You have redeemed my soul
From the pit of emptiness;
You have redeemed my soul from death.
I was a hungry child,
A dried up river
I was a burned out forest,
And no one could do anything for me...
But you put food in my body,
Water in my dry bed
And to my blackened branches
You brought the springtime green of new life;
And nothing is impossible for you
(arrangementy by Jenny Moore)
This song was sung during the "circle of communion" at St. Benedict's Table tonight and each verse resonated inside me. Another sweet Spirit blast, that I hadn't expected....thank you Father.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Distractions: A Meditation
I have had significant difficulty in keeping hounding thoughts, plans, dissapointments, ideas, responsibilites at bay. Some is unrealistic , some totally doable. Doubts, fears, failings, decisions I wish I could go back on, some I have no clue how it will turn out. This battle is all in the mind, fought there and pushed to the back burner every morning as I roll out of bed. This morning, same thing, same song. Needed to focus, pulled out a little treasured book that has hundreds of Scripture readings and meditative quotes from deep thinking, godly Christ-followers. Here is what I read (after Psalm 64):
"A great woman of the last century...was accustomed to say...:'think glorious thoughts of God--and serve Him with a quiet mind!' And it is surely a fact that the more glorious and more spacious our thoughts of Him are the greater the quietude and confidence with which we do our detailed work will be. Not controversial thoughts, or narrow conventional thoughts, or dry academic thoughts or anxious worried thoughts. All these bring a contraction instead of expansion to our souls; and we all know that this inner sense of contraction or expansion is an unfailing test of our spiritual state. But awed and delighted thoughts of a Reality and Holiness that in inconceivable to us and yet that is Love. A Reality that pours itself out in and through the simplest forms and accidents, and makes itself known under the homelist symbols; that is completely present in and with us, determining us at every moment of our lives. Such meditations as these keep our windows open towards Eternity; and perserve us from that insidious pious stuffiness which is the moth and rust of the dedicated life."
(Evelyn Underhill)
I know I want my window open towards Eternity today, I want to think glorious thoughts of God and serve him with a quiet mind. Sweet Spirit, grace me, us, today with Your peace, Your hope, Your mercy.
Amen.
"A great woman of the last century...was accustomed to say...:'think glorious thoughts of God--and serve Him with a quiet mind!' And it is surely a fact that the more glorious and more spacious our thoughts of Him are the greater the quietude and confidence with which we do our detailed work will be. Not controversial thoughts, or narrow conventional thoughts, or dry academic thoughts or anxious worried thoughts. All these bring a contraction instead of expansion to our souls; and we all know that this inner sense of contraction or expansion is an unfailing test of our spiritual state. But awed and delighted thoughts of a Reality and Holiness that in inconceivable to us and yet that is Love. A Reality that pours itself out in and through the simplest forms and accidents, and makes itself known under the homelist symbols; that is completely present in and with us, determining us at every moment of our lives. Such meditations as these keep our windows open towards Eternity; and perserve us from that insidious pious stuffiness which is the moth and rust of the dedicated life."
(Evelyn Underhill)
I know I want my window open towards Eternity today, I want to think glorious thoughts of God and serve him with a quiet mind. Sweet Spirit, grace me, us, today with Your peace, Your hope, Your mercy.
Amen.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Dumpster Diving
I'm sitting here, at my desk watching 2 guys, totally dumpster diving in each bin (the super big ones) on either side of our fence. One guy is slamming a 2 by 4 into something that is crashing and smashing and creates quite a racket. "Way to go, Brian!" yells his buddy, busy at the other bin. Out snakes a long black cord in his hand, then another, looks like something from a computer. Might be copper they are after, or parts of the old computer or tv to sell. They are quite happy with the find, as they saunter away. Wow, such is alley life at 5:30 pm Winnipeg time (West End that is, the surburbs are more quiet in the way of dumpster diving).
Met a friend today, a girl who used to attend our summer Bible club years ago. She lives with her boyfriend's family when she comes to town. She had a new haircut, glasses and purpose since the last time I had a soft drink with her at the cafe. She told me she was at a funeral of a 23-year old cousin. Ended his life. "Guess he could take it no more" she said softly. So, with many cousins and friends that have taken their lives on her reserve over the years, she is tired of it. "I want to do a walk, from Vancouver to Prince Edward Island. And I want to dance at each stop." Cool. So, why? "I want to raise a voice for all the people, across Canada, I want to raise money for Youth Centers all over the north, on all reserves. The youth need help, this issue is so huge." What kind of dance would she do? "Fancy dance, I would dance myself. To have many watch and others join." She was serious, so calm, so young....I thought. I told her she would have to use alot of pairs of shoes, who would join her, how would she write her proposal for funding? She was quiet, but seemed determined. She would have her say, she would make her voice heard. My friend is a unique lady....not many aboriginal youth would say that, would say she wants to raise awareness or that she wants to be a mentor to the many hurting, lonely, desperate young people that make up much of the population of the north.
As I walked home, fall leaves descending gently, I wondered...could I walk that far for justice, dance for the hurting, go through what she does and still have the emotional energy to plan and dream for the future? For others, no less. Yah, right...I hope she asks me to come along, I just may learn something.
Met a friend today, a girl who used to attend our summer Bible club years ago. She lives with her boyfriend's family when she comes to town. She had a new haircut, glasses and purpose since the last time I had a soft drink with her at the cafe. She told me she was at a funeral of a 23-year old cousin. Ended his life. "Guess he could take it no more" she said softly. So, with many cousins and friends that have taken their lives on her reserve over the years, she is tired of it. "I want to do a walk, from Vancouver to Prince Edward Island. And I want to dance at each stop." Cool. So, why? "I want to raise a voice for all the people, across Canada, I want to raise money for Youth Centers all over the north, on all reserves. The youth need help, this issue is so huge." What kind of dance would she do? "Fancy dance, I would dance myself. To have many watch and others join." She was serious, so calm, so young....I thought. I told her she would have to use alot of pairs of shoes, who would join her, how would she write her proposal for funding? She was quiet, but seemed determined. She would have her say, she would make her voice heard. My friend is a unique lady....not many aboriginal youth would say that, would say she wants to raise awareness or that she wants to be a mentor to the many hurting, lonely, desperate young people that make up much of the population of the north.
As I walked home, fall leaves descending gently, I wondered...could I walk that far for justice, dance for the hurting, go through what she does and still have the emotional energy to plan and dream for the future? For others, no less. Yah, right...I hope she asks me to come along, I just may learn something.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Faith
Can't see it, that thing called faith, but you can sure hear it when it knocks at your door....
I was trying to make lunch for my two ravenous homeschooled kids, while talking on the phone (trying to talk low so one of my sons couldn't hear me) with my hubby. It was a big blow-up the night before when both my oldest guys failed a hunting exam, money down the drain and ego's bust-ed, (as they would say). They were ready to mash anyone who had anything to say about it, until Silas got hungry and he broke his no-supper and no-breakfast mad-fast. So I was quietly conversing on the phone "that I think he's turned around, done his homework, eating...so far so good." "Someone's at the door!" yelled Nate. So I glance over to see, and said good bye and hung up the phone.
It's Simon (name change here for so many good reasons), lunch box in hand, waiting quietly for me to finish what I'm doing. Lives in a boarding house across the alley from us and we've known him for about a year. A dear Christian brother who battles with intense loneliness and depression. When he's doing good, what a mountain of faith and scripture and insights...when he's down, its one of the hardest things to see. I could see he was struggling, deep dark rings under his eyes, a shyness to speak but something urgent he needed to see me about. Could we borrow the van for him to make a dr's appointment? I shook my head, Steve has it, I'm so sorry! He looked a little panicked but accepted that and said he'd call and cancel. True to his nature, he looked at me and asked how I was doing...I told him it was a tough day, "why?" he asked. I could see he was yearning to listen, be compassionate, those dark rings and heavy head couldn't take much more today, so I told him, "hey, you are having a tough day, I am having a tough day. Let's have a tough day hug and pray to the Lord for grace." So we did, a hug, a desperate prayer for help and it knocked on the door, FAITH, and I heard it and recieved it and my friend did too, at least I hope he did.
We could not expect any favors, God doesn't promise to get us out of the Junk-of-the-Day Special. But he can give us this cool little mustard seed of faith that helps us see beyond ourselves, to Him, into each other, to what is essential. The sweet Spirit blast was on full flow this evening, healing, reconciliation, hope among our little family of five. I want to ask Simon tomorrow if he recieved his portion too.
I was trying to make lunch for my two ravenous homeschooled kids, while talking on the phone (trying to talk low so one of my sons couldn't hear me) with my hubby. It was a big blow-up the night before when both my oldest guys failed a hunting exam, money down the drain and ego's bust-ed, (as they would say). They were ready to mash anyone who had anything to say about it, until Silas got hungry and he broke his no-supper and no-breakfast mad-fast. So I was quietly conversing on the phone "that I think he's turned around, done his homework, eating...so far so good." "Someone's at the door!" yelled Nate. So I glance over to see, and said good bye and hung up the phone.
It's Simon (name change here for so many good reasons), lunch box in hand, waiting quietly for me to finish what I'm doing. Lives in a boarding house across the alley from us and we've known him for about a year. A dear Christian brother who battles with intense loneliness and depression. When he's doing good, what a mountain of faith and scripture and insights...when he's down, its one of the hardest things to see. I could see he was struggling, deep dark rings under his eyes, a shyness to speak but something urgent he needed to see me about. Could we borrow the van for him to make a dr's appointment? I shook my head, Steve has it, I'm so sorry! He looked a little panicked but accepted that and said he'd call and cancel. True to his nature, he looked at me and asked how I was doing...I told him it was a tough day, "why?" he asked. I could see he was yearning to listen, be compassionate, those dark rings and heavy head couldn't take much more today, so I told him, "hey, you are having a tough day, I am having a tough day. Let's have a tough day hug and pray to the Lord for grace." So we did, a hug, a desperate prayer for help and it knocked on the door, FAITH, and I heard it and recieved it and my friend did too, at least I hope he did.
We could not expect any favors, God doesn't promise to get us out of the Junk-of-the-Day Special. But he can give us this cool little mustard seed of faith that helps us see beyond ourselves, to Him, into each other, to what is essential. The sweet Spirit blast was on full flow this evening, healing, reconciliation, hope among our little family of five. I want to ask Simon tomorrow if he recieved his portion too.
Monday, October 4, 2010
The Hair Net of Violence
Don't ask me why this set of words grabbed me while I was making brownies for a 15-year old's special celebration Saturday afternoon. I forget the name of the poet, but as she read, voice low and clear, on the radio on our stove, I was sucked into her vortex of potent words and descriptions. "The hairnet of violence"...something so simple and ordinary, a delicate web of thread worn by grandmas, or McDonald workers flipping burgers. Contrast with the word violence, harsh, exacting, terrorizing.
The 'hairnet' descends quickly, almost without warning. Emotional violence, like physical pain, can be searing and unrelenting. Secrets, screaming eyes, desperate prayers, thudding hearts, breaking, shaking, shattering, a drowning, "where's bottom? where is up? Is this really happening to me?". Plunging into this violence of the heart with oneself, with others, can be devestating. Who asks for this in life? In our sons and daughters, our marriages, our neighbors? Shattered dreams, a waking nightmare, when will I wake up? Or a decision to die quietly, "it's better this way". Maybe I'm too sensitive, maybe I need to be a little more calloused to pain, mine and others...show a brave front, draw up an inspirational line for my laptop on my desktop, and move foward. Can I ignore the hairnet, it pulls my hair up out of the way, perhaps it hides something. The way us humans flail and grab, then say I'm ok, your ok (while thinking murderous thoughts), and we draw menacing pictures and take too many pills and we are alone again with tortured minds and thoughts and annoying looks and smiles.
The lady in the interview was asked, is this world bearable for you? No, she replied, it's quite unbearable. Me too, sometimes. This morning my sons and I had a great chat on the days of creation and what sustains life. The first noticable thing that God did was to create light. There was no sun, nothing to cause it, except Himself. Light, the energy that all life is based on but where does it come from? What is its essence? I asked my youngest, how can light exist without anything to produce it? He said, God just did it that's all! God is the source of light and in him there is no darkness at all. In our grief and violent ways, our hearts are dark, chaotic, hypnotic and deceitful. We cannot find hope in ourselves or our grand "ok-ness", our pride and vanity has created a whirlwind of shame. His Light penetrates, dispells acidic darkness and brings the seeds of hope, life, healing, freedom. I will grab hold of this truth, even when the Hairnet threatens to suffocate me with its violence, hate and darkness. In sorrow and celebration we will wait for the revealing of His essence..... Light.
The 'hairnet' descends quickly, almost without warning. Emotional violence, like physical pain, can be searing and unrelenting. Secrets, screaming eyes, desperate prayers, thudding hearts, breaking, shaking, shattering, a drowning, "where's bottom? where is up? Is this really happening to me?". Plunging into this violence of the heart with oneself, with others, can be devestating. Who asks for this in life? In our sons and daughters, our marriages, our neighbors? Shattered dreams, a waking nightmare, when will I wake up? Or a decision to die quietly, "it's better this way". Maybe I'm too sensitive, maybe I need to be a little more calloused to pain, mine and others...show a brave front, draw up an inspirational line for my laptop on my desktop, and move foward. Can I ignore the hairnet, it pulls my hair up out of the way, perhaps it hides something. The way us humans flail and grab, then say I'm ok, your ok (while thinking murderous thoughts), and we draw menacing pictures and take too many pills and we are alone again with tortured minds and thoughts and annoying looks and smiles.
The lady in the interview was asked, is this world bearable for you? No, she replied, it's quite unbearable. Me too, sometimes. This morning my sons and I had a great chat on the days of creation and what sustains life. The first noticable thing that God did was to create light. There was no sun, nothing to cause it, except Himself. Light, the energy that all life is based on but where does it come from? What is its essence? I asked my youngest, how can light exist without anything to produce it? He said, God just did it that's all! God is the source of light and in him there is no darkness at all. In our grief and violent ways, our hearts are dark, chaotic, hypnotic and deceitful. We cannot find hope in ourselves or our grand "ok-ness", our pride and vanity has created a whirlwind of shame. His Light penetrates, dispells acidic darkness and brings the seeds of hope, life, healing, freedom. I will grab hold of this truth, even when the Hairnet threatens to suffocate me with its violence, hate and darkness. In sorrow and celebration we will wait for the revealing of His essence..... Light.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Sweet Apples
When I realized the recycling truck had gone by (after doing some errands), I went back to get our big blue box. Opening the gate, I looked out for it and couldn't see it. So I did some back alley wandering, nope, it was gone. Our neighbors were still there, others brought in I guess....so someone snitched it? That tends to happen, but this was our first box, a ten dollar price tag on that and only the 3rd week out. Frustrated, I went one way down the alley, then the other scanning the ground, other driveways. A short way up the alley, I came upon 3 chubby kids, one with a small backpack and hat, holding onto a basket of apples. Nothing out of the ordainary. It actaully looked cute, faces looking like they were trying to sort out a problem.
As I came up, the little girl with the hat on said, "Is this your apple tree?", pointing to a large tree behind a fence, huge delicious apples hanging there for all to see. "Nope", I said, "but those are great looking apples!" She looked up and said, oh so innocently, "Do you think you could climb up there and get some for me?" The other faces looked at me, questioningly..."will you?" painted on their faces. Well, I know I used to climb trees like a monkey, but now, well, accident insurance would have to come first and then a very heave-ho type of effort might be made. They saw my consternation..."ok, Johnnie, you go up there then!". The girl in the hat, I noted was the expedition leader and took charge effectively. The gate was broken, looked like no one cared about that tree, hundreds of apples lay underneath it, some with wasps devouring its meat. I decided to stick around, in case any "owner" of the tree came out of the house and make sure the kids didn't get injured. Plus they were soooo darn cute!! Johnnie shook the tree, down came apples, he shook it again, down came more apples. For about 15 minutes the 2 other girls loaded their little basket, their arms, her little backpack with apples. I offered to get a bag for them, while Johnnie was saying that they could "share all these apples with the community". Really, he was cute and sincere!
I lead them like a pied piper, to my back gate. So many questions they had, "Is this where you live? Do you have puppies? This is so nice! Can I use your bathroom? What is that?" The last question, was directed to a tomato I pulled off my plant while they were swinging on our garden swing, and the cucumber I found in my little garden patch. Johnnie had the answers, the girls were in wonder! I introduced them to Cyclone, her ball, the Furby Park on the other side of the road, and walking back to the gate, one of them quired, "Why are you so nice 'ta us?". THAT was so cool, I love that question!! I thought about it and then said, "You know God loves kids"....Johnnie piped in, "And He made kids"..... "Yah! and I love kids, so He brought You here, so I could be nice to you." "Oh". Little Hat girl, looked at me and said, "Can I go up and play with your kids toys?" "Nope, not today, their not home plus I have some work to do", I answered. The other girl asked for a banana....alright, time to go! "Thanks for visiting me!" I said. They filed out the gate, with their apples and I'm sure 50 more questions. My mind went back to the recycling bin, who cares? I just spent 30 minutes with the three best cuties in the alley. Go figure....
As I came up, the little girl with the hat on said, "Is this your apple tree?", pointing to a large tree behind a fence, huge delicious apples hanging there for all to see. "Nope", I said, "but those are great looking apples!" She looked up and said, oh so innocently, "Do you think you could climb up there and get some for me?" The other faces looked at me, questioningly..."will you?" painted on their faces. Well, I know I used to climb trees like a monkey, but now, well, accident insurance would have to come first and then a very heave-ho type of effort might be made. They saw my consternation..."ok, Johnnie, you go up there then!". The girl in the hat, I noted was the expedition leader and took charge effectively. The gate was broken, looked like no one cared about that tree, hundreds of apples lay underneath it, some with wasps devouring its meat. I decided to stick around, in case any "owner" of the tree came out of the house and make sure the kids didn't get injured. Plus they were soooo darn cute!! Johnnie shook the tree, down came apples, he shook it again, down came more apples. For about 15 minutes the 2 other girls loaded their little basket, their arms, her little backpack with apples. I offered to get a bag for them, while Johnnie was saying that they could "share all these apples with the community". Really, he was cute and sincere!
I lead them like a pied piper, to my back gate. So many questions they had, "Is this where you live? Do you have puppies? This is so nice! Can I use your bathroom? What is that?" The last question, was directed to a tomato I pulled off my plant while they were swinging on our garden swing, and the cucumber I found in my little garden patch. Johnnie had the answers, the girls were in wonder! I introduced them to Cyclone, her ball, the Furby Park on the other side of the road, and walking back to the gate, one of them quired, "Why are you so nice 'ta us?". THAT was so cool, I love that question!! I thought about it and then said, "You know God loves kids"....Johnnie piped in, "And He made kids"..... "Yah! and I love kids, so He brought You here, so I could be nice to you." "Oh". Little Hat girl, looked at me and said, "Can I go up and play with your kids toys?" "Nope, not today, their not home plus I have some work to do", I answered. The other girl asked for a banana....alright, time to go! "Thanks for visiting me!" I said. They filed out the gate, with their apples and I'm sure 50 more questions. My mind went back to the recycling bin, who cares? I just spent 30 minutes with the three best cuties in the alley. Go figure....
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
five guys
We decided to take a walk after supper, the boys and our dog, Cyclone. Off to 7-11 with free slurpee coupons, a super blow pop for me and some fresh air to go. Coming down our porch steps, I glanced across the street...5 young guys, around 15-17 years old were checking out the boarding house windows. Boarding houses usually have one maintance persons and 3-4 people living in individual rooms, sharing bathrooms or kitchens. I had never seen these guys there before and it looked a little suspicious (slightly) when one of them found a window open and hopped in. I started across the street (with Silas and Nate in tow, and Cyclone...) and shouted, "Hey! What are you guys up to?" (good starting line, eh?). "Oh", one guy said, slouching over his bike, "we are looking for Billy Jones who lives here." 'Good name' I thought, who is ever called "Billy Jones"? "I don't think he lives here, you better get out" I said firmly...meanwhile my kids and the dog are standing there wondering what the heck I'm doing taking to obvious gang members (or related activities kind of people?) The one guy was busily opening the front door lock for his buddies, they rode off on their bikes and I looked up at this guy, questioning...he said to me, "the guy that lives here owes me thirty bucks". So old braino says back...."I don't think he's home, better come back later!" Amazingly, he looks all calm and says "oh, ok". And he gets on his bike and leaves.
Meanwhile, I am scanning the 'hood for help, a neighbor, a obviously not "bad guy" type, anyone who might be able to help me intervene. I look up at the top window and the matainance guy is looking down, so I gesture him to come down. Well, in a moment he does, with half a iron bed post for company, ('looking for a few bad guys eh?'). The kids and I describe what happens and he takes over, searching his property for any lurking teens....and we saunter away, very much aware that we forgot our back window slightly open. Will they come back for revenge? What if we see them again? After our 7-11 visit, we visualize the "Blow Pop" manuver that will send them running next time they try something like that. Or booby traps, or Nate's baby hamster that will bite their finger and send them howling. The boys had lots of good ideas, creativity abounds when incidents like this occur!
I'm glad I was able to help a neighbor today, I'm glad these guys weren't into getting violent or their way right then. I'm glad for kids who take it in stride and we can pray at night for the guys who need to get their conscience revived and alive again. I have so much to be thankful for. That's it, lights out.
Meanwhile, I am scanning the 'hood for help, a neighbor, a obviously not "bad guy" type, anyone who might be able to help me intervene. I look up at the top window and the matainance guy is looking down, so I gesture him to come down. Well, in a moment he does, with half a iron bed post for company, ('looking for a few bad guys eh?'). The kids and I describe what happens and he takes over, searching his property for any lurking teens....and we saunter away, very much aware that we forgot our back window slightly open. Will they come back for revenge? What if we see them again? After our 7-11 visit, we visualize the "Blow Pop" manuver that will send them running next time they try something like that. Or booby traps, or Nate's baby hamster that will bite their finger and send them howling. The boys had lots of good ideas, creativity abounds when incidents like this occur!
I'm glad I was able to help a neighbor today, I'm glad these guys weren't into getting violent or their way right then. I'm glad for kids who take it in stride and we can pray at night for the guys who need to get their conscience revived and alive again. I have so much to be thankful for. That's it, lights out.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Harley Heaven
I love Harleys...in fact, in my profile I mention that I will be presented one at the pearly gates. My cousin, one of the coolest dudes I know (besides my brother dudes at church, and my hubby and boys) has one. One day I remember walking into a Harley Davidson dealership and gawking at the chrome and metal. I was going to ask the lady if they ever have 50-70% off sales...until I realized I wasn't at Wal-Mart or Super store looking for toliet paper or pork chops. My husband's boss has one too, and he's the leader of a super great ministry to addicts in this city....look'n cool, eh?
Last year, I had the best conversation with an old friend in Minneapolis. We were travelling through on the fourth of July, and had just seen a great display of fireworks that evening and walked home together with our families. We were talking about heaven and cars. She said that when she gets to heaven, she'd be presented a Jaguar (a certain color, I don't remember what). She is not the kind I would think that likes cool cars...but I laughed and told her that I always thought I'd get a Harley. We looked at each other and realized what we were saying!! What makes us think that we'd get a human made metal contraption at the end of our lives, and think we will be the happiest? Wasn't it ironic to think that after a life of sacrifice and good deeds, we'd get the best this old world has to offer? It was like saying "We have a right to what we never got in our life!! God owes us!!". I had never thought of it that way, just a consolation prize at the end, something to look forward too, when "everyone else has one....". Talk about twisted.
So now I've got myself un-twisted. What do I look foward too, when the Bible says that we need to leave all this behind? Simply, THE BEST. My Creator has promised the BEST, that I can't even imagine. So, poo-poo the Harley and give me what He's got coming. Maybe I can call up my cuz and ask for a ride on his........
Last year, I had the best conversation with an old friend in Minneapolis. We were travelling through on the fourth of July, and had just seen a great display of fireworks that evening and walked home together with our families. We were talking about heaven and cars. She said that when she gets to heaven, she'd be presented a Jaguar (a certain color, I don't remember what). She is not the kind I would think that likes cool cars...but I laughed and told her that I always thought I'd get a Harley. We looked at each other and realized what we were saying!! What makes us think that we'd get a human made metal contraption at the end of our lives, and think we will be the happiest? Wasn't it ironic to think that after a life of sacrifice and good deeds, we'd get the best this old world has to offer? It was like saying "We have a right to what we never got in our life!! God owes us!!". I had never thought of it that way, just a consolation prize at the end, something to look forward too, when "everyone else has one....". Talk about twisted.
So now I've got myself un-twisted. What do I look foward too, when the Bible says that we need to leave all this behind? Simply, THE BEST. My Creator has promised the BEST, that I can't even imagine. So, poo-poo the Harley and give me what He's got coming. Maybe I can call up my cuz and ask for a ride on his........
Friday, August 13, 2010
Inna City Liven
Ever have those days where things seem like, way too wierd but you go with it as some kind of life experience? That you know one day when your 92, toothless in a nursing home and reminse with your grand children (getting you to drink from a little white straw), will seem rather silly or dramatic or dangerous? One Sunday, a few weeks ago, I ran in to church a little late. It was ok, we're a casual bunch. Nodding hello to my friends, I eased into the seat beside the mornings speaker, whom I haven't seen since Seminary days and shook his hand and welcomed him to our service. Things were going on nicely, and I was leaning over queitly filling him in on some comments in our prayer and share time and I felt an itchy crawl along my scalp. "Darn!" I thought, "keep focused, stay pleasent, act normal". For pete's sake! Lice have a way of making themselves known at the worst times. Our family contracted the little beasts sometime end of June, probably from the primary school our kids go to. To be knowing what is crawling in my hair, sitting in a public place, putting on a "spiritual smile" and my head is screaming to be dealt with is a funny, sad thing that I will chuckle about as I sip on my tepid apple juice in a nursing home one day.
Another thing I'll reminice about is the recent gang related shooting in our park across the street a few days ago. CTV was parked 2 doors down, with their satellite arm up and running as the boys and I unpacked from a few days at the cottage. I wanted to saunter down and ask the women leaning against the van what the news was today, in the "murder capital", here on Furby. Steve quickly filled in that the night before, 2 gangs were shooting at each other from opposite sides of the park. A few bullets actually hit the neighbors house, luckily nobody was home at the time. So as I thought about these things, later that afternoon, I was amazed that kids still played there, families enjoyed the grass and shade and visited with each other on the picnic table. Life goes on.
The last months have been full of life's challenges and hang-ups, peace and sudden whirlwinds. Stinky wading pools needing cleaning, steaks being eaten with friends, a laugh at a quirky Charlie Chaplin pushing in his hip that keeps popping out when he's dancing with a wealthy single lady at a party, floating down a river current on a rubber tube, followed by 3 boys and a crocodile, dino and various other floaties (dog on crocodile), mowing lawns, a few arguments, sleeping in. (don't forget the lice)....life goes on. Neighbors chat, we replace a bunch of flowers from a destroyed bulevard box, we answer questions like "can I have some change to get by until tomorrow?", we meet 100 church members from the Burmese church on beach 1 1/2 hours from our house "Ne kwan de lah?" we laugh and joke with them, amazed we are there at the same time. Old heart aches bubble up, cry to God and peace. A prayer walk with another house church in the area, their elders join us, two members are blind but love the commentary and the walk itself. They passionatly ask God to help us in our lives here, on Furby, as we stand together on the sidewalk outside our home. Life goes on....
When I'm old and grey, what will I remember and what will I forget about? I will certainly have perspective, I will have hindsight, regrets? Promises never fulfulled? What will count as I look back? One thing I know I will do, I will gather the grand kids around, turn the dvd on play, and laugh till my sides ache, watching Charlie Chaplin confound the rich, proud and selfish with the hip that keeps unlocking, the slippery dance floor that makes him do amazing splits, a total calculated berserk life that is showered with an unbelievable touch of hilarity and pulsating joy of life. LIFE goes on!!
Another thing I'll reminice about is the recent gang related shooting in our park across the street a few days ago. CTV was parked 2 doors down, with their satellite arm up and running as the boys and I unpacked from a few days at the cottage. I wanted to saunter down and ask the women leaning against the van what the news was today, in the "murder capital", here on Furby. Steve quickly filled in that the night before, 2 gangs were shooting at each other from opposite sides of the park. A few bullets actually hit the neighbors house, luckily nobody was home at the time. So as I thought about these things, later that afternoon, I was amazed that kids still played there, families enjoyed the grass and shade and visited with each other on the picnic table. Life goes on.
The last months have been full of life's challenges and hang-ups, peace and sudden whirlwinds. Stinky wading pools needing cleaning, steaks being eaten with friends, a laugh at a quirky Charlie Chaplin pushing in his hip that keeps popping out when he's dancing with a wealthy single lady at a party, floating down a river current on a rubber tube, followed by 3 boys and a crocodile, dino and various other floaties (dog on crocodile), mowing lawns, a few arguments, sleeping in. (don't forget the lice)....life goes on. Neighbors chat, we replace a bunch of flowers from a destroyed bulevard box, we answer questions like "can I have some change to get by until tomorrow?", we meet 100 church members from the Burmese church on beach 1 1/2 hours from our house "Ne kwan de lah?" we laugh and joke with them, amazed we are there at the same time. Old heart aches bubble up, cry to God and peace. A prayer walk with another house church in the area, their elders join us, two members are blind but love the commentary and the walk itself. They passionatly ask God to help us in our lives here, on Furby, as we stand together on the sidewalk outside our home. Life goes on....
When I'm old and grey, what will I remember and what will I forget about? I will certainly have perspective, I will have hindsight, regrets? Promises never fulfulled? What will count as I look back? One thing I know I will do, I will gather the grand kids around, turn the dvd on play, and laugh till my sides ache, watching Charlie Chaplin confound the rich, proud and selfish with the hip that keeps unlocking, the slippery dance floor that makes him do amazing splits, a total calculated berserk life that is showered with an unbelievable touch of hilarity and pulsating joy of life. LIFE goes on!!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Field of Dreams
A harsh ringing filled my "early" morning slumber this morning. The phone is a terrible thing to wake up to on any day, let alone ending a dream that seemed as real as life. In my dream I was pushing a shopping cart up a trail, in the northern Myanmar hills. I was half-way to my destination, other travellers waved hi to me, as I lifted the wheels out of the dirt and pushed it up the next couple of inches. Suddenly I realized, 'what am I doing pushing a shopping cart up the side of a mountain'??? "Forget this!" I said and ditched it, feeling a little guilty for littering the trail, but so much more lighter. I thought, "they don't need shopping carts in the village anyway!". Happily I strided up the trail, greeting neighbors...the guy who cooked the bedbugs out of our furniture, our Kachin friend who is also the top denominational head of his church, other assorted kids, animals, dirt roads leading to thatch houses on stilts. It was great to be amoung friends. Then, "rrrriiiinnggggg!!!" the phone goes and I snap out of my Kachin hill's and back to a phone ringing, my lumbering out of bed (what am I gonna make for breakfast..) and croaking a "hello" to my husband who sounds chipper and has all kinds of questions. All I could think about right then was that shopping cart, stuck in the dirt, what the heck was I doing???? "O.K." I croaked over the phone, "see you at 10." Clack, the reciever falls into place and I begin another day in the real world.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
The Community Walks
Six p.m. . The sun is shining, kids with balloons, homemade flags and face-paint. Dogs underfoot, sniffing each other and sensing the excitement. All eyes on the front as some speeches are made, some drumming and sweet grass action and the final "LET'S GO!". Police stop traffic and the horde of neighbors, friends, kids, activists, dogs move into the street to show our faces to the streets. In response to the violence last week (read "Two Teens") that also included two little girls injured by flying bullets into their window (in retaliation), the neighborhood decided we need to make our presence known, to go to those streets and make a deal about guns, crime, violence that has affected 4 kids, 5 if you include the six-year old who was assualted in a home by the local playground (not gang related). About 150 of us showed up in an impromtu march down Toronto St, up Victor and on Ellice coming to the MERC community center, where many of us chatted and caught up with news on our various areas.
Summer brings it's joys and excitements and its sorrows, especially down here in the West End. Last night the boys heard "shots" which we discovered were fireworks across the street. Going to school this morning, (as I was missing a meeting of west-end church leaders about recent events here) I saw the results of an accident. I recognized the mom of a girl going to the kids school. They were bandaging her up and taking her into the ambulance, her van totalled and her little girl (who was ok) tightly hugging her dad. The police on the scene seemed in a jovial mood for some reason, joking amoung themselves and seeing my dog Cyclone, asking about her and what breed she was. My thoughts and prayers were directed towards all this as I ambled away down past the school, amazed that children still skipped to school, people going about thier business, me left wondering where this was all going and half of it I know is un "fixable". Some of this just is.
For me to "be", live in love and not fear and hate is half the battle. Cheering on the good, and rejecting the bad, speaking up where I can and shutting up where I know words won't cut it. Let true wisdom and truth shine and those who long for Peace be drawn to it. That is my prayer.
Summer brings it's joys and excitements and its sorrows, especially down here in the West End. Last night the boys heard "shots" which we discovered were fireworks across the street. Going to school this morning, (as I was missing a meeting of west-end church leaders about recent events here) I saw the results of an accident. I recognized the mom of a girl going to the kids school. They were bandaging her up and taking her into the ambulance, her van totalled and her little girl (who was ok) tightly hugging her dad. The police on the scene seemed in a jovial mood for some reason, joking amoung themselves and seeing my dog Cyclone, asking about her and what breed she was. My thoughts and prayers were directed towards all this as I ambled away down past the school, amazed that children still skipped to school, people going about thier business, me left wondering where this was all going and half of it I know is un "fixable". Some of this just is.
For me to "be", live in love and not fear and hate is half the battle. Cheering on the good, and rejecting the bad, speaking up where I can and shutting up where I know words won't cut it. Let true wisdom and truth shine and those who long for Peace be drawn to it. That is my prayer.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Two Teens
Yesterday afternoon, while our boys were kicking back and doing some fishing on Eleanor Lake, two boys were shot at on Toronto Street. One has died from a chest wound (16), the other in stable condition with a leg wound (13). My thirteen year old was working at a snag on some reeds, when a kid the same age was just sitting on his porch suddenly saw his buddy thump over and a pain like fire went through his leg. Only 3 pm, day time shots and one life taken, the other changed forever (never mind parents, siblings and relatives!!). Apparently it is gang-related, and linked to another shooting minutes later at a car, only one street parallel away. So, tomorrow, they interview the mayor and ask him "what is he going to do about it". Doesn't that sound strange to you? Yah, let's go ask the mayor what's up with these shootings, and give us a plan so that we will all feel safe. Why go to the mayor? Why not the two guys who did it? Why not to the gang leader, grieving mom to hard faced leader? Why not we go to the guys house and weep, cry, pray over the suffering and anguish this brings, bring our sons and daughters to their front yard and say, "Do you want to kill these ones too?" To take responsibility, to be a grieving yet connected community means that it affects us too. These two teens were worth more than that, my kids are worth more than that, and I hope the Winnipeg community realizes its not the mayor's problem, its all of ours.
Monday, May 17, 2010
In the Dark, With the Lights On
Our middle son somehow wasn't going to go to bed. He ended up walking the around the house till midnite, after all the threats of taking away "his turn" at Wii the next day, urging him to eat something (maybe he's just hungry!!), my husband trying to do the wrestle him down technique (that back fired) and me just going to bed and shutting the door, too exhausted to deal with it. He eventually ended up (according to my hubby) on the couch, sleeping there till morning. Eventually he told me he was mad, I guess really mad, that he just couldn't be mad and go to bed at the same time. The next night was shaping up to be the same. Steve didn't say anything, but tried my tactic and went to bed and closed the door. Our son was ticked off about something again, and decided to turn on the light at midnite and sit in bed with arms crossed. Ok, so what now?? I am increasingly befuddled and bewildered over some of the behavior patterns of my kids, and this was going to be a classic observation night for me to try to understand this guy.
I hopped out of bed, went into his room and sat on his bed...determined to wait (through hell or highwater) this through. He turned his back on me, so I studied the sleeping form of my other son in the other bed (they share a room). "How can he sleep with the light on? How long will I sit here? What is going on in that 12 year brain of his, why is he mad this time?" these questions and more slowly wafted through an already tired brain. After about 15 minutes, he got up (the mad one), walked to the hallway, our room and the bathroom and turned all the lights on without saying a word. Then went to sit, arms crossed and back towards me. Hmmm...he wants us all to be awake with him (I'm great at analyzing mysterious actions), and wants us to be as miserable as he is, and he hasn't kicked me out of his room...is that a good thing? has he accepted my presence (like wildlife in the jungle)? on and on I analyze, as well as pray. I am a praying women you know, and this was no exception. Having kids (boys....) forces one to pray and pray hard, on your knees if you have to. Super human, pleading prayers that you know that God has to answer or else one of his creations will go looney trying to figure this out on her own.
Well, God answered one of my prayers that night. He pulled up his blanket that he had thrown on the floor, covered himself up with it (feet on pillow) and promptly fell asleep. Hmmmm....I thanked God that it hadn't turned out to be the all-nighter I thought might happen and as I turned out all the lights (my bemused husband looking up blearily) reflected that "being" with my son was more important then "doing" anything anyway (or having the right parenting method!). These times I'm "in the dark" may be the way to deeper understanding, not just my son... but my Father and another radical way to learn to love and "be" with my family and others around me in a deeper way.
I hopped out of bed, went into his room and sat on his bed...determined to wait (through hell or highwater) this through. He turned his back on me, so I studied the sleeping form of my other son in the other bed (they share a room). "How can he sleep with the light on? How long will I sit here? What is going on in that 12 year brain of his, why is he mad this time?" these questions and more slowly wafted through an already tired brain. After about 15 minutes, he got up (the mad one), walked to the hallway, our room and the bathroom and turned all the lights on without saying a word. Then went to sit, arms crossed and back towards me. Hmmm...he wants us all to be awake with him (I'm great at analyzing mysterious actions), and wants us to be as miserable as he is, and he hasn't kicked me out of his room...is that a good thing? has he accepted my presence (like wildlife in the jungle)? on and on I analyze, as well as pray. I am a praying women you know, and this was no exception. Having kids (boys....) forces one to pray and pray hard, on your knees if you have to. Super human, pleading prayers that you know that God has to answer or else one of his creations will go looney trying to figure this out on her own.
Well, God answered one of my prayers that night. He pulled up his blanket that he had thrown on the floor, covered himself up with it (feet on pillow) and promptly fell asleep. Hmmmm....I thanked God that it hadn't turned out to be the all-nighter I thought might happen and as I turned out all the lights (my bemused husband looking up blearily) reflected that "being" with my son was more important then "doing" anything anyway (or having the right parenting method!). These times I'm "in the dark" may be the way to deeper understanding, not just my son... but my Father and another radical way to learn to love and "be" with my family and others around me in a deeper way.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Rocky Road
There's a road
It's a rocky road lined with sticks and stones
It's a road where the thistle grows
And the freeway never goes
But even though this road is long
Everybody's welcome on this rocky road
Now we're all doing the best we can
We hurt from head to toe
And we fall short of Heaven's plan
We stumble as we go
But even though we've all done wrong
Everybody's welcome on the rocky road\
We're casting stones even though we're all sinners
Pointing fingers and calling out names
But on the rocky road there ain't no one amoung us
Without blame
On the rocky road
How can I, with this log in my eye,
Count your spots and scars?
Why should I even try to put you behind bars?
I need your love to carry on
We've got to help each other along this rocky road
ONEWORLDSON.....Rocky Road
It's a rocky road lined with sticks and stones
It's a road where the thistle grows
And the freeway never goes
But even though this road is long
Everybody's welcome on this rocky road
Now we're all doing the best we can
We hurt from head to toe
And we fall short of Heaven's plan
We stumble as we go
But even though we've all done wrong
Everybody's welcome on the rocky road\
We're casting stones even though we're all sinners
Pointing fingers and calling out names
But on the rocky road there ain't no one amoung us
Without blame
On the rocky road
How can I, with this log in my eye,
Count your spots and scars?
Why should I even try to put you behind bars?
I need your love to carry on
We've got to help each other along this rocky road
ONEWORLDSON.....Rocky Road
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Get Back Up
You turned way when I looked you in the eye
And hesitated when I asked if you were alright
Seems like you're fight'n for your life
But why, oh, why
Wide awake in the middle of your nightmare
You saw it comin' but it hit you out of nowhere
And there's always scars when you fall that far
We lose our way, we get back up again
It's never too late to get back up again
You may be knocked down, but not out forever
You rolled out of the dawning of the day
Heart racin' as you made your little get away
It feels like you been runnin' all your life
But why, oh, why
So you pull away from the love that would've been there
And start believin' that your situation's unfair
But there's always scars when you fall that far
This is love call'n, love call'n
Out to the broken this is love call'n
This is love call'n
I am so broken
This love call'n, love call'n
by Toby Mac (from CD 'Tonite')
And hesitated when I asked if you were alright
Seems like you're fight'n for your life
But why, oh, why
Wide awake in the middle of your nightmare
You saw it comin' but it hit you out of nowhere
And there's always scars when you fall that far
We lose our way, we get back up again
It's never too late to get back up again
You may be knocked down, but not out forever
You rolled out of the dawning of the day
Heart racin' as you made your little get away
It feels like you been runnin' all your life
But why, oh, why
So you pull away from the love that would've been there
And start believin' that your situation's unfair
But there's always scars when you fall that far
This is love call'n, love call'n
Out to the broken this is love call'n
This is love call'n
I am so broken
This love call'n, love call'n
by Toby Mac (from CD 'Tonite')
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Prayer Walk
As we crunched up the alley way, we talked about the new booze store going up on the corner of Maryland and Notre Dame. It's been a notorious corner with a sleezy hotel and booze joint there and a problem for years for the families living nearby. Well, they've decided to make a seperate place to use booze, VLT's and "chicken to go" to draw in business. The few of us decided to stop and pray, to ask God to have mercy. Mercy on those flocking to places like that, mercy for the neighbors and mercy on those pouring money into it. It's not worth the price of addiction, broken families and violence that it nurtures (the chicken may be a good idea but still.....). So standing there, our kids whirling around on scooters in the parking lot, some neighbors walking by stopping for a chat, and Cyclone chomping on a dirty bone she found....we prayed....to the God of the Universe who hears those standing on cracked sidewalks.
We moved on down Maryland to the 7-11, passing by two police cars stopped to arrest a thin "out of it" looking lady. One man leaned against the tree talking to the cops, "yah, she is causing no end of problems in our house!". One of our group greet the policewomen heartily and on we walk. We meet a couple more people we know at the 7-11. The kids run in to buy some candy and we stop to talk. Our friend there held a coffee, talking about a kids club she's started at the local school. Only one child was attending, she said, somehow the principle seems to make things difficult for a Christian group to start anything there. As we stand there chatting, my hands full with the dogs leash, a basket ball, scooters and frisbee, three police cars come roaring up the parking lot, lights blazing. We looked on interested, wondering if we were missing something.....it seemed pretty peaceful here a minute ago! I saw them run into the store, then I looked at all the things I was holding, if I needed to run from some crime scene, I'd be in trouble ( and what about the kids inside??)! It was actually funny because others standing around talking didn't miss a beat as if it was no big deal, kept on talking and slowly drifting away to other concerns. The police came out and mumbled to each other "They said the 7-11 on Ellice!". Getting into the cars, they turned on the lights again and zoomed to the "other 7-11" on Ellice (5 blocks down).
So that concluded our prayer walk, our hearts joyfully turning God-ward in the midst of a mess-ward West End that we are growing to know and love!
We moved on down Maryland to the 7-11, passing by two police cars stopped to arrest a thin "out of it" looking lady. One man leaned against the tree talking to the cops, "yah, she is causing no end of problems in our house!". One of our group greet the policewomen heartily and on we walk. We meet a couple more people we know at the 7-11. The kids run in to buy some candy and we stop to talk. Our friend there held a coffee, talking about a kids club she's started at the local school. Only one child was attending, she said, somehow the principle seems to make things difficult for a Christian group to start anything there. As we stand there chatting, my hands full with the dogs leash, a basket ball, scooters and frisbee, three police cars come roaring up the parking lot, lights blazing. We looked on interested, wondering if we were missing something.....it seemed pretty peaceful here a minute ago! I saw them run into the store, then I looked at all the things I was holding, if I needed to run from some crime scene, I'd be in trouble ( and what about the kids inside??)! It was actually funny because others standing around talking didn't miss a beat as if it was no big deal, kept on talking and slowly drifting away to other concerns. The police came out and mumbled to each other "They said the 7-11 on Ellice!". Getting into the cars, they turned on the lights again and zoomed to the "other 7-11" on Ellice (5 blocks down).
So that concluded our prayer walk, our hearts joyfully turning God-ward in the midst of a mess-ward West End that we are growing to know and love!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Blast from the past
The phone rang as I was just getting the shake and bake chicken ready for the oven. "Hello?" I answered, busily wondering who it could be. "Hi" said a soft voice, "this is Carla". I knew right away who it was, but haven't heard her voice for at least 10 years. This girl is distinctive, she and her sister were one of the many kids enjoying a kids club we ran out of our inner-city church all those years ago. Carla had found refuge for a night at our house, when her grandmother had too much to drink and threatened to punch her lights out. She was different, soft heart and perseptive, honest and helpful. Her sister too, though more tougher exterior but bright smile and "go get it" attitude. We stayed in contact for awhile...they left up north, back to the reservation and to potential abuse, suicide, depression, lack of schooling. They'd pop in once in a while to say hi and play with the boys (toddlers then). We left for Burma and that was it, out of sight, out of mind for years. Until today.
She came over. I watched her as she shared with me about those years inbetween. Her smile the same, soft ways, soft voice but 23 now and still persevering. She finished highschool, only 7 of them out of a starting class full. She created a kids club up north, of 96 kids and 24 staff. She has a loving and devoted boyfriend, and has plans to get married. She has strived to keep clear of alcohol and drugs. Her sister is a reservation policewomen getting respect but also scorned as part of the "law" that people fear up there. They are survivors and thrivers...I knew they were different, we connected and saw something that would set them apart from the rest. Many of their friends died back then pre-teens snuffing out their lives without a hope. Carla and her sister determined not to be one of those statistics, and not only to avoid that trap, but to make a difference. Not without pain and struggle but to stand against the tide and hurdles. I am sooooo proud of them, I told her that and I want to see them continue to press through. Thank God, Carla called today.
She came over. I watched her as she shared with me about those years inbetween. Her smile the same, soft ways, soft voice but 23 now and still persevering. She finished highschool, only 7 of them out of a starting class full. She created a kids club up north, of 96 kids and 24 staff. She has a loving and devoted boyfriend, and has plans to get married. She has strived to keep clear of alcohol and drugs. Her sister is a reservation policewomen getting respect but also scorned as part of the "law" that people fear up there. They are survivors and thrivers...I knew they were different, we connected and saw something that would set them apart from the rest. Many of their friends died back then pre-teens snuffing out their lives without a hope. Carla and her sister determined not to be one of those statistics, and not only to avoid that trap, but to make a difference. Not without pain and struggle but to stand against the tide and hurdles. I am sooooo proud of them, I told her that and I want to see them continue to press through. Thank God, Carla called today.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Loose screws
I know, I know...those following my blog have waited almost a month for the next entry, well here it is. I want to thank the anonymous commenter (of April 6) that made me laugh heartely!! I need a laugh. And I will smooch my husband's gorgeous lips and know that my pain is His Pain, and that's why He went through such crap and died and rose again on the third day to blast His Spirit power into this garbagey, crappy world (at least my back alley is garbagey...the beautiful areas of our world need to be protected so we still know how it feels and looks like!). The bed bugs have been dealt with, the hot drier on, I had a great dream of putting pedal to the metal in a race car and making flyng leaps over huge ramps, all over the world. From one extreme to another it seems....
I had breakfast with a dear friend this week. She is loosing wieght (not necessarily a good thing), has stained and stinky clothes on and mostly a vacant stare. Her hand was shaking so much that she could barely chase her food across the plate to put in her mouth. She finally asked a question after 45 minutes of chasing the eggs, "Do you know what I hope?". "What do you hope?" I asked. "I hope you'll get pregnant and have a daughter", she said with a barely visible twinkle in her eye. She knows I have all boys, I know she came from a family of 7, 3 brothers and 3 sisters and that she misses the action, noise, fighting that happened when she was small. More kids? Not for me! When it was time to leave, I asked her what I could pray for her about, she said the most cryptic words..."pray that I would be a good girl". At 60+ she still yearns to be a good girl? What is that about? I'm still wondering.
I had breakfast with a dear friend this week. She is loosing wieght (not necessarily a good thing), has stained and stinky clothes on and mostly a vacant stare. Her hand was shaking so much that she could barely chase her food across the plate to put in her mouth. She finally asked a question after 45 minutes of chasing the eggs, "Do you know what I hope?". "What do you hope?" I asked. "I hope you'll get pregnant and have a daughter", she said with a barely visible twinkle in her eye. She knows I have all boys, I know she came from a family of 7, 3 brothers and 3 sisters and that she misses the action, noise, fighting that happened when she was small. More kids? Not for me! When it was time to leave, I asked her what I could pray for her about, she said the most cryptic words..."pray that I would be a good girl". At 60+ she still yearns to be a good girl? What is that about? I'm still wondering.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Bed Bug Blues
There is nothing I like better then squishing a fully loaded bed bug. It happened this morning, just before taking the kids out to school, I saw a bug crawling ponderously over the kitchen floor. I took a piece of paper and bent down to scrape it up. Low and behold, its abdomen fully extended (blood I assumed), it was the creepiest crawly that I love to hate. So with my husband shouting "NOOOOO!!!!!" in the background, I took one of his business cards (it was the handiest thing around) and squished it dead. He wanted it captured live to show our exterminator friend. Oh well, dead as a door nail, it's still a bed bug. I slipped it into an envelope and into the freezer just in case it wanted to supernaturally rise from its splatted-ness. At least it's in the vault, I thought.
Yes, the bed bug challenge has come around again. Many months ago, and in an rented house we were so infested that every night we laid down, we knew we were to become a "living sacrifice" for these things. We were itching to get out (no pun intended), buy a home and land in it safely and undisturbed. Thank our God, it came to be. We still thank God, but ask for His grace again. We think perhaps one was brought home from the inner-city school our kids go to. But then big posh hotels have the problem too, no one is exempt. Is this a new wave of future torment, along with the recent devestating earthquakes and cyclones? World-wide bed bugs, a plague worth thinking about. Or not. I'd rather not.
Yes, the bed bug challenge has come around again. Many months ago, and in an rented house we were so infested that every night we laid down, we knew we were to become a "living sacrifice" for these things. We were itching to get out (no pun intended), buy a home and land in it safely and undisturbed. Thank our God, it came to be. We still thank God, but ask for His grace again. We think perhaps one was brought home from the inner-city school our kids go to. But then big posh hotels have the problem too, no one is exempt. Is this a new wave of future torment, along with the recent devestating earthquakes and cyclones? World-wide bed bugs, a plague worth thinking about. Or not. I'd rather not.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Hear the Silence
Pain has a way of making sure we hear it all the time. Whether its physical or mental, it's voice is the first thing we hear in the morning (or let's make it all night!) and the last thing we hear at night. Some people manage to stuff it and get on with their day, others are immobilized, literally. Others cope by various chemical addictions, medical treatments or staying in bed,with the covers over their heads. Pain has a way of paralyzing or pushing the button that's marked "rage", or "hide" or "help me". Being through agonizing times is one thing, but with no hope of rescue, a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel is another. My Spirit Blast this weekend and healing from some of these wounds came in the form of hearing some silence, letting that silence settle deep and responding to it with trust. Christ the healer, I realize has not come to rip us apart with laws and legalize of how to live life or how to better manage our pain, but how to respond to His gentle love and presence. For me, this came in the form of skillfully threaded words, soft music
and a Christian community that acknowledges pain too. The broken came to worship and went away filled. We worshiped with wounds, not expecting instant answers but opening our pain vault to his divine presence...whatever that would mean.
Society and so often the church today has tried to tell us not to feel pain, something is wrong if we are broken and confused. In the cast room in the hospital a week ago, the doctor pointed out to my son, a vast array of colors and patterns he could pick for his cast cover (he has a broken wrist). Would that make it heal faster? Does it cut out the pain he feels when he bumps it or twists it the wrong way? A young mom in the waiting room, carrying her little son on her hip, pointed out a glowing orange leg cast one guy was sporting. "Maybe you'll get a pretty orange one like that!!" That didn't seem to make him smile and forget about his broken limb...in fact, his frown worsened. Why do we put frosting on our wounds, as if it will sweeten it up a bit or make it more palatable? I'm learning that it doesn't make a difference, what does is allowing ourselves to finally feel what we do, and realizing that Christ the healer invites us to worship him with it, cleanse ourselves in his light of love and concern and accept humbly the journey he has for us. Hearing the pain is one thing, hearing the silence that it brings us too may be the first step towards the healing we crave.
and a Christian community that acknowledges pain too. The broken came to worship and went away filled. We worshiped with wounds, not expecting instant answers but opening our pain vault to his divine presence...whatever that would mean.
Society and so often the church today has tried to tell us not to feel pain, something is wrong if we are broken and confused. In the cast room in the hospital a week ago, the doctor pointed out to my son, a vast array of colors and patterns he could pick for his cast cover (he has a broken wrist). Would that make it heal faster? Does it cut out the pain he feels when he bumps it or twists it the wrong way? A young mom in the waiting room, carrying her little son on her hip, pointed out a glowing orange leg cast one guy was sporting. "Maybe you'll get a pretty orange one like that!!" That didn't seem to make him smile and forget about his broken limb...in fact, his frown worsened. Why do we put frosting on our wounds, as if it will sweeten it up a bit or make it more palatable? I'm learning that it doesn't make a difference, what does is allowing ourselves to finally feel what we do, and realizing that Christ the healer invites us to worship him with it, cleanse ourselves in his light of love and concern and accept humbly the journey he has for us. Hearing the pain is one thing, hearing the silence that it brings us too may be the first step towards the healing we crave.
Friday, March 5, 2010
gone is the light
Into the darkness we must go
Gone, gone is the light
Into the darkness we must go
Gone, gone is the light
Jesus remember me
When you enter your kingdom
Jesus remember me
When your kingdom comes
Father forgive them
They know not what they do
Father forgive them
They know not what they do
"Gone is the Light" by Gord Johnson
I remember meeting Gord, through our then friend Steve Bell. Gord's guitar style was skilled and soothing, like Steve's but with a decidely different feel. He came to play at our coffee houses, we saw in him the struggle of an artist trying to make it but having to go back to his day job. Now years later, a compliation of worship music has been done by friend, Steve Bell...written by Gord. Simple and beautifully constructed and written it has been a highlight for me to learn, play and root these songs in my heart and mind. I remember a coffehouse I went to when I was pregnant with my first boy, I was sick, depressed, unreachable. Gord was playing that night and he was able to reach into that darkness, guided by God's Spirit, to the place I roiled with pain. He sat down with us at the break and he spoke into my darkness with grace, saying that his wife had been through years of depression and darkness. He knew because he had walked through it with his wife. This morning I walked through a similiar valley, it's been years of wavering between this darkness and light, depression and a clear blasting joy....and I'm tired, weary and ready to give up any sort of understanding of this heart-aching process. I know deep down the reality of Christ in me, the surrender I must give and the wait for His rescue. Gord's song is mine today..."into the darkness we must go", "Jesus remember me!", "Father forgive them". Then I wait, wait. Wait for my heart to settle, wait for His rescue. I wait.
Gone, gone is the light
Into the darkness we must go
Gone, gone is the light
Jesus remember me
When you enter your kingdom
Jesus remember me
When your kingdom comes
Father forgive them
They know not what they do
Father forgive them
They know not what they do
"Gone is the Light" by Gord Johnson
I remember meeting Gord, through our then friend Steve Bell. Gord's guitar style was skilled and soothing, like Steve's but with a decidely different feel. He came to play at our coffee houses, we saw in him the struggle of an artist trying to make it but having to go back to his day job. Now years later, a compliation of worship music has been done by friend, Steve Bell...written by Gord. Simple and beautifully constructed and written it has been a highlight for me to learn, play and root these songs in my heart and mind. I remember a coffehouse I went to when I was pregnant with my first boy, I was sick, depressed, unreachable. Gord was playing that night and he was able to reach into that darkness, guided by God's Spirit, to the place I roiled with pain. He sat down with us at the break and he spoke into my darkness with grace, saying that his wife had been through years of depression and darkness. He knew because he had walked through it with his wife. This morning I walked through a similiar valley, it's been years of wavering between this darkness and light, depression and a clear blasting joy....and I'm tired, weary and ready to give up any sort of understanding of this heart-aching process. I know deep down the reality of Christ in me, the surrender I must give and the wait for His rescue. Gord's song is mine today..."into the darkness we must go", "Jesus remember me!", "Father forgive them". Then I wait, wait. Wait for my heart to settle, wait for His rescue. I wait.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
far from blah
the sun is actually shining today! my walk today was not a chore, with birdsong guiding my way down McGee St and then down Furby this morning. saying good bye to my youngest at school, i settled into the nice feeling of a walk before me...musing over the past couple of days and weeks. i see Rachel walking towards me, haven't seen her for a couple of weeks. we say hi, but she seems a little distant...that's ok, perhaps when the weather changes we can make plans to meet again. meanwhile, i mull over the fact that i've had this headcold for over a week now and have tried to 'lay low' in my stuffed up suffering. with three boys, and a hyper pooch its hard to 'lay low' for any length of time. dental visits, groceries, music lessons, seem to fill up the schedule as it usually does. i crossed Sargent and thought about the movie my hubby and i watched last nite about Amelia Earhart's story, the first women pilot to fly across the Atlantic. the ending brought me up short, attempting a last leg of her round the world stint, she ran out of fuel over the Pacific and was lost to history without a trace. funny how that affected me...by now I'm at a cross walk and an Asian lady stops about 7 feet from me and looks terrified at Cyclone looking at her. "is he friendly dog? I scared". she keeps her distance even though I say she's ok, but Cylone denies her comfort by sensing her fear and barking a couple of times at her...'better to keep going' I think. i get onto Furby and enjoy the sun, the birds and the thoughts...she should've waited for a clear day (who? Amelia...oh yah), a day like today, she'd see the island she needed to refuel at and she would've been back in her husbands arms the next day and a hero along with it. All the world was watching her with bated breath, would she, could she do it? So much struggle, love, so much risk involved to even get her and her silver plane up and into the clouds. why do i relate to that? i meet up with a elderly lady who walks her elderly dog on our street regularly. i ask her how she is, she asks me, then she says "you know, last week the police were at that house," she pointed to one 3 doors down, "there were drugs and guns there, alot of them. You know, this is good neighborhood but," she shrugs, "what can you do? drugs, guns..." she shakes her head and then smiles, "Bye-bye now, have a good day!" i answer, "ok, you too!". i had seen the 6 police cars and two investigative vans outside last week. i thought perhaps a stabbing or something, but I guess it was a cache of guns and drugs the police had found. the other nite i had reflected to some friends that lately i've been too blah to write in this blog. nothing going on, sick, normal Winnipeg winter. my walk today has taught me otherwise, life here is far from blah.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Heart Cry
I was scurrying home. I had bowed out of a meeting to be able to get home and help get the boys to bed. My mind was a little agitated too. This was a new board put together to help bring charity status to a minstry arm of 3 house churches here in the neighborhood. It was the third time we met, and already they had to re-think and re-word their application to the current policies that the government has laid out. Hoops to jump through, snagging on a dearly held philosophy this group has on freedom to pool their money and to give to whom they want, no strings attached. I had given a two minute passionate diatribe on what true "ministry" was...not having all kinds of free time to pastor and counsel people, but the daily struggle of life, lived with and for an inner-city community. It's chatting with a neighbor on the way to your McDonald's job, its sharing a joke with a neighborhood kid next door as you shoulder your shovel to make a few bucks for the milk that day. They watch, they learn, they listen....it's Jesus in ripped jeans, a big heart, a steady hand.
I was trying to walk fast, my kids were waiting I knew. Passing by the dark houses, I heard a wail. A cat? or dog howling? As I came closer to the sound, I realized it was a voice. It was mumbling loudly something over and over and then sobbing in between. I stopped and tried to figure out which of the two houses it was coming from. One was looking pretty "together", shovelled yard, neat and tidy...the other had a boarded up front window and gnerally looked unkept and creepy. The voice wailed again, this time clearly calling in a child's tone, "I wish Samantha was hewh. I wish Samantha was hewh." and then a heart breaking sob and crying. Over and over the cry came and I was transfixed. What to do? It's 9 pm on Langside, this kid sounds completely abandoned. I looked around for help, there was one girl "working" the corner near-by...was that "Samantha"? A guy came out of the clean house next door with a bag of garbage and looked at me strange and walked away...the wails went on "I wish Samantha was hewh"...didn't he hear it? Has he locked her up somewhere in that house? Crazy ideas filled my head. I decided I'd run home and get Steve to come investigate with me. I flew in the door and shared the story, they were in the middle of their Ramoli game and didn't want to go investigate anything. So I took the car, drove back and ran to the same spot I had been standing before, the words and cry like a revolving tape player, "I wish Samatha was hewh, I wish Samantha was hewh, I wish Samantha was hewh......" It was silent, I looked around, there was light from the creepy house kitchen windown but no indication of anyone there. Shoulders slumped and head bowed, I prayed for that little girl. My heart cried for hers, her loneliness, her fear, her neglect. And I felt helpless. Why had God allowed me to hear the cry right then? Should I knock on the door, even if I was alone? like her? or was she alone? Questions still trample like elephants in a field. What to do with the heart cry on Langside.
I was trying to walk fast, my kids were waiting I knew. Passing by the dark houses, I heard a wail. A cat? or dog howling? As I came closer to the sound, I realized it was a voice. It was mumbling loudly something over and over and then sobbing in between. I stopped and tried to figure out which of the two houses it was coming from. One was looking pretty "together", shovelled yard, neat and tidy...the other had a boarded up front window and gnerally looked unkept and creepy. The voice wailed again, this time clearly calling in a child's tone, "I wish Samantha was hewh. I wish Samantha was hewh." and then a heart breaking sob and crying. Over and over the cry came and I was transfixed. What to do? It's 9 pm on Langside, this kid sounds completely abandoned. I looked around for help, there was one girl "working" the corner near-by...was that "Samantha"? A guy came out of the clean house next door with a bag of garbage and looked at me strange and walked away...the wails went on "I wish Samantha was hewh"...didn't he hear it? Has he locked her up somewhere in that house? Crazy ideas filled my head. I decided I'd run home and get Steve to come investigate with me. I flew in the door and shared the story, they were in the middle of their Ramoli game and didn't want to go investigate anything. So I took the car, drove back and ran to the same spot I had been standing before, the words and cry like a revolving tape player, "I wish Samatha was hewh, I wish Samantha was hewh, I wish Samantha was hewh......" It was silent, I looked around, there was light from the creepy house kitchen windown but no indication of anyone there. Shoulders slumped and head bowed, I prayed for that little girl. My heart cried for hers, her loneliness, her fear, her neglect. And I felt helpless. Why had God allowed me to hear the cry right then? Should I knock on the door, even if I was alone? like her? or was she alone? Questions still trample like elephants in a field. What to do with the heart cry on Langside.
Monday, January 11, 2010
That Little Bird
As I crunched along in my walk this morning, I suddenly realized I could hear birds. Two kinds in fact, one chirping a normal bird chirp and another with an actual birdish melody! My mind had been in a revolving door of thoughts, inner debates and other mindfilled clutter. I am reading through "The Urban Saint" right now, a novel about Harry Lehotsky and his life and work here in the West End. I almost trashed it the other day, because it really dragged up some memories of his unflagging charisma and lack of that kind of enthusiastic leadership today. I unexpectedly had tears in my eyes, as I walked down Ellice to pick up my youngest from school (this was Friday). "Why did you have to go now? This street feels empty without his presence. And we are left to carry on.". Saturday afternoon was the wedding of his oldest son, we New Lifers laughed and cried together, especially seeing the slide show, where Harry was there every little step of the way of his sons lives. So then I went home and read a couple more chapters...picketing pawn shops, confronted by the mess of a West End moment, his little church with their big hearts.....Crunch, crunch, crunch, Cyclone sniffs, the frost hangs on the trees and I remember as that little bird sings.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Softly Falling
Cyclone and I can finally get back on schedule. It's not the prune juice schedule, or the other "thing" that hits the females in a house at the same time (we are the only females in our house remember besides the gerbils and hamster that remain anonymously gendered for the moment). It's our daily walk, to the school, through 4-5 blocks of neighborhood and home. The snow was falling in clumps this morning, gently swaying bunches. It muffles sound when it comes down that way, so things looked and sounded quieter and more gentle. Even the traffic (not the car that almost ran us down at the lights on a yellow, but anyway). Christmas holidays are thankfully over, I mulled the days in my mind as I walked. There was the Wheelies visit, singing carols with my husbands family after a ridiculous present game that had everyone chorkling long after it was over, Christmas Day (that morning didn't come off so well... 3 boys and so many expectations!! I'll save that for another time!) and wrestling with my niece outside. Now that was quite the scene! Myself, aka "Zelda the Destroyer" (42, a little out of shape) pitched against "Sky-Scraper" (my niece, the 14 yr old, very tall, very confident that she would pulverize me). Little did she know, I am a mother of boys, that I had a very difficult morning with one of them, and all my frustration may show up in a power struggle of dynamic proportions!! For half an hour we strained and struggled, grabbed and slammed, snow was flying, our legs and arms were flying, Zelda was bent on squishing Sky-Scraper, ditto for SS but neither would back down.
Finally the time had come when Zelda had used all her reserves and more. Sky-Scraper knew it was over as Zelda mumbled through tembling lips, "I'm finished! You win!" Now, that was a Christmas Day to remember!
The rest of the time seemed easy after facing the Christmas Day challenge in all its griefs and joys. Perhaps that is why I relate more with Easter...I expect stark grief and loss (remembering the One who faced it and overcome) and the joy of Easter morning. Christmas has become Christmas carols played in malls (buy more stuff!), money (debt), personal enjoyment (or hard emotional stuff) and expectations that come crashing because its built on man-made happiness. Easter seems more realistic to me (let's downplay the chocolate bunnies, PLEASE!), to me all we can expect is the emptiness of death on a cross and the surprise of joy by the empty tomb. "I was born for that purpose. And I came to bring truth to the world"...the Jesus celebrated just a week ago, we cry that you'd bring the Truth back again and shake us out of our frenzy of self, till we listen.
Finally the time had come when Zelda had used all her reserves and more. Sky-Scraper knew it was over as Zelda mumbled through tembling lips, "I'm finished! You win!" Now, that was a Christmas Day to remember!
The rest of the time seemed easy after facing the Christmas Day challenge in all its griefs and joys. Perhaps that is why I relate more with Easter...I expect stark grief and loss (remembering the One who faced it and overcome) and the joy of Easter morning. Christmas has become Christmas carols played in malls (buy more stuff!), money (debt), personal enjoyment (or hard emotional stuff) and expectations that come crashing because its built on man-made happiness. Easter seems more realistic to me (let's downplay the chocolate bunnies, PLEASE!), to me all we can expect is the emptiness of death on a cross and the surprise of joy by the empty tomb. "I was born for that purpose. And I came to bring truth to the world"...the Jesus celebrated just a week ago, we cry that you'd bring the Truth back again and shake us out of our frenzy of self, till we listen.
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