a bit of history · friends and loved ones

Never fancied myself a farmer

Growing up in the midwest, I was surrounded by farming communities, in Illinois, and Ohio, and even southern Ontario.  Wide-open spaces with rolling hills, and fields upon fields of crops, there were beans and corn, and corn and beans… as far as the eye could see.

And even though I’ve known many, both friends and family, who enjoyed the lifestyle of rural farm life, not once did I say to myself, “I’d like to be a farmer’s wife one day.”  It just wasn’t something I aspired to be.

Recently, I realized, that maybe I’ve become a farmer of sorts.  It wasn’t intentional by any means… but over time, maybe the last nine or ten years, I’ve eased in to the occupation.

It all began when I received an email from a gracious mother who’s children are in my choir.  Her sweet little ones move around the house, singing songs and repeating Scripture I’ve taught them.   She thanked me for working with the young people of our church, teaching them things that will last a lifetime.   As I read that kind mama’s words I thought about what a pleasure and a joy  it is to till the soil, and sow God’s word into these fertile hearts and minds.

The position I find myself is a bit abnormal.  In this role, I won’t see the gospel come to fruition later in their lives. I’m a farmer who sows without immediately reaping.   And I wonder about their futures, because of my planting…

Will they be drawn to a saving knowledge of Christ?   Maybe they will gain great courage from a Scripture we learned together.  They might sense the nearness of His presence when they remember a song we rehearsed, right at the moment they need it most.  Is it possible they would be encouraged in the darkest of nights, when they recall a hymn full of truth and grace from God’s Word?  I guess I don’t know for sure.  But, I can recount the times that these kinds of experiences have been reality for me -when a certain Scripture or song I learned in my childhood was come to mind.

What I know for sure: If I will continue the work of planting the seeds,  I can have confidence that the Holy Spirit will finish the work that has begun as He sees fit.

With all of this in mind, I’m finding I suppose I don’t mind the idea of farming after all.

from Deuteronomy 6:

“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength.

“And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

a bit of history · friends and loved ones · shop talk

answered prayer, wrong day…

Yesterday  when I woke up it was Saturday.  In case you aren’t aware, Saturdays normally belong to me.  It just works better that way.  I make plans and I get stuff done. Please, I’m begging, don’t mess with my Saturdays.  Ever.

So, yesterday…  It started out fine, but by lunch time, things were coming unglued.  And by unglued, I actually mean, Michael had an accident and we had to go to Doctor’s Express to get a bad cut dealt with.  He sliced open the top of his left index finger.

Here’s the thing : on a normal day, my prayer life might consist of asking the Heavenly Father to administer growth in my heart.  “Help me to be more like You,” I pray often.  “Let my life show Your fruit!”    But it is impossible to pray that prayer and know what you’re asking for…  I’m never prepared for how He will answer.

As we sat in the waiting room for a physician to look at Michael’s finger, I could feel it happening.  Patience was slipping away.  And all sympathy or concern was passing, and being replaced with selfishness.

I might as well have told God in my completely self-absorbed way, “Listen, I know what I asked for, but I didn’t mean on my Saturday!”

The truth is, I’ve never resembled Jesus when it comes to showing lovingkindness – My attitude is more like this:  “Oh! You’re hurt?  I’m so sorry!  Now, lets get on with things.”  And every time I’m given the opportunity to allow fruit to develop, I destroy it!  Especially yesterday, on my Saturday, when all I could do was think:  “Look, honey- It is Saturday!  I don’t have time for this!  I’m sorry you almost cut your finger off – but I have stuff to do…”

Oh, I realize it sounds ugly – but I’m not good at compassion some times.  I can be, if it is convenient for me.  And even as I type these words, I’m aware (again) of how sinful I am.

Last night, when it was late and dark and rainy and cold, and we realized we were out of bandages that we needed to wrap Michael’s finger, I made a run to Walgreen’s.  For some reason on that drive, I was reminded of the Scripture from Isaiah 53:

But He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.

His death on the cross, bearing every sin, allows Him to understand each one of us deeply in a human way – whether death or suffering or sin or sickness –  It was all laid on Him to experience.  I will never be able to understand or care for my loved ones to this degree.  It is impossible.

But, here is how that Scripture can change me: The more I focus on His complete sacrifice, the less my selfish motives make sense.  And, the more I allow His great love to sink deeply into my heart, the more love I will be able to offer others.    Maybe when this truly happens, someday,  I will be less interested in my prayers being answered on the right day, and I’ll welcome Him to work in my heart on His terms.

a bit of history · friends and loved ones · who knows?

locked out

It happened at our church on the first night of children’s choir a few weeks ago.  Nothing unusual or out of the ordinary was going on – I arrived at the church with two of my children and started preparing for all of the choir activities I had planned.

My Isaac and Mackenzie were happily situated at the back of the sanctuary on a pew, playing on iPads and waiting for me while I did my thing.  I ran upstairs to make some copies and find the rhythm sticks.  Without realizing I became a bit distracted chatting with Pastor Chris – when I heard a faint holler.

It was “Moooooooooooooom!!!!” with an urgency – two little voices crying out in the distance.  I dropped what I was doing and bolted down the stairs thinking I was about to find one of my children injured. Setting foot in the back of the sanctuary – I could still hear their cries from a far – they were not sitting where they should have been.

I began opening office doors, cry room doors,  closet doors – all the time hearing their calls, but never discovering them behind those closed doors.   And then finally -I flung open the door to the outside corridor between the sanctuary and the fellowship hall.  And there they were : locked outside!

At once they began to sob:  “We thought you had left us!  We didn’t think you were coming for us!” Upon much consoling and wiping of tears, I convinced them that just wouldn’t have happened.

Their account goes like this:  they had come looking for me, stepped out into the walkway between the entrances, let one door close behind them before knowing if the other door was unlocked.  And so they found themselves – where they weren’t supposed to be.  I encouraged them to wait for me next time.

And so my story goes too.  Maybe yours too?

Often I struggle with the events of this world.  It is so broken by the effects of sin.  How can I go on?  I wander off the path distracted – looking for ways to fix this world;  maybe new government or laws, possibly stronger morals in our communities, or different politics, or new religious ideas…

The reality is, while those may be okay in some aspects, there isn’t true salvation in any of them.  When I finally remember this truth, that none of those things are are ever going to work, I come to my senses…

and it is then that I find myself desperately pleading with God Himself, “Come back!  Why have you left us here?  Have you forgotten us?  Are you ever coming back?!?”    Not unlike how my children were calling out for me…

The good news is that no matter what is happening on this globe, or where we’ve misplaced our hope for an artificial savior, He has not forgotten.  He’s not throwing open closet doors searching for us.  He’s not late or distracted.  He knows exactly what’s going on – He will come back for us at a very specific time that He has planned, just as He’s promised.

He is the only key to our hope and salvation.   His promise in John 14 is as true as it has ever been, and certainly one to cling to:

“Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also. And where I go you know, and the way you know.”

 

 

 

a bit of history · friends and loved ones

blowing on the coals

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Krista and I spoke two nights ago over the phone, just as we had planned.  She’s my cousin Jay’s wife, so we’re cousin-in-laws I suppose – but more importantly, we are also good friends.  Jay and Krista live in Huntsville, Ontario, but they leave with their family mid November for a two year mission term in Papa New Guinea.

I can’t really comprehend what it would be like to do what they are doing, but I’m going to try to be a steadfast prayer partner for her while they are there, in PNG. The whole thing is mind boggling to me. It is epic.  Off the charts.  Unfathomable.

As we chatted about the journey they are on and shared prayer requests she said something I won’t forget.   One of the things they hope to do while there is encourage the other missionaries who have been ministering in PNG for a while; many need Spiritual refreshment (and who wouldn’t?).  So, they hope to “blow on the coals” and that the Holy Spirit will use them to revive the passion for Jesus in that community.

blow on the coals, she said.

When we finished, and I was in bed trying to fall sleep, I briefly thought – I sure wish someone could blow on my coals a bit.   Truthfully, it has been a bit of a discouraging week and my fire is down to embers.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Jesus, I’m doing all the things I should do.  But, I’m not glowing with my normal passion.  I’ve been reading the book of John this week;  it is my favorite and I really thought I might blow on my own coals, so to speak.

At any rate, tonight I went to children’s choir rehearsal, because that’s what I do.  And can you guess what happened?  I heard these precious voices singing,  praising God, and it was as though my heart was massaged.  Their words pressed in and the Holy Spirit used them to minister to me.

We sang together the Romans 11 Doxology, exalting the greatness of our God.  Then, To You We Bring The Highest Praise, glorifying His goodness and His gracious work in our lives.  There is nothing so refreshing, so revitalizing as praise coming from the mouths of children!

How incredible it is to be a part of the body of Christ where, by His providence, each one of us can be used as He sees fit!   I’m so grateful for a Heavenly Father who meets my needs.  Even before I ever really knew how to pray, He sent these beautiful children to “blow on my coals” tonight!

 

friends and loved ones · home schooling · who knows?

here, lately…

We’ve been in the midst of beginning our Thanksgiving season.  At our house we try to celebrate God’s good gifts to us with thankful hearts from Canadian Thanksgiving all the way to American Thanksgiving – which spans about 40 days.  (give or take a few)

Mostly, we try to write down and collect up “thankfulnesses” on little cards.  Each day we store them up in a jar.  Eventually, on Thanksgiving morning, we will spread them out on the dining room table and read them.

Giving regular thanks, right here at this time of year, is a way to combat my own sinful heart in the coming season.   The Advent Season is supposed to be about Jesus coming as our Redeemer and Savior – but often times it ends up in a materialistic quagmire and the pursuit of accumulating more stuff.  In my heart of hearts I want to enter  Advent this December with my mind dedicated to the giving of thanks for Jesus most of all.

In the mean time, let me give thanks to Him for all of his gracious blessings!   These small mercies, that are actually really big in my life, make my journey oh so sweet.

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my girl, with our newest thankful jar, her own creation.

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our homeschooling life, on-the-go learning at Panera

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this pup and her girl – both make me smile.

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this new music, balm for my (sometimes- weary- mama’s) heart.

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Grandma’s pumpkin pie, eaten with my folks at their house a few miles from mine, celebrating Thanksgiving together. (oooh- there are several things to be thankful for, just in that one phrase)

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This guy.  always.  forever thankful.

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and my new chair for teaching piano lessons, giving me new perspective.

Happy Season of Thanks y’all!

I’d love to hear what you’re giving thanks to God for these days!

friends and loved ones

how to turn 40

The thing is, I wasn’t really sure about this whole turning 40 business.  A couple months ago I felt sure I wanted to celebrate, and that if I was going to age, I wanted to do it right. But, I really didn’t know what that meant.

I recognize that I’ve been aging all along, but 40 seems to be a hurdle.

At any rate – what I realized this past week more than ever is this: I wanted to celebrate this life I’ve been given.  There is a significant amount of goodness and it is easy to move about my days without recognizing it all.

The good things in my life largely revolve around the gifts of fellowship and relationships – my husband, my children, my parents,  and my in-laws, my sister and her family, my husbands’  siblings and their families, and my dear friends.  These are the gifts from God that I do not celebrate enough!

This morning twelve friends converged on my home for a birthday brunch.  As we sat in a circle in my living room and shared our favorite things with each other, I had to really make an effort to not be tearful.  These women are such a large part of my heart and life.  Some I talk to weekly, if not daily.  Some, I’m only able to visit with once every couple months.

But, I see each one of them and the friendship we share as God’s gracious, beautiful gift to me.    This morning that goodness soaked into the very deepest places of my heart and I was reminded that I am greatly blessed.  Indeed, I am a very rich 40 year old.    If that’s not worth celebrating, I don’t know what is.

So in case, you don’t know, I’ve decided to turn 40 by celebrating God’s gracious gifts in my life!  It is really the only way to go, no matter what age you are!

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a bit of history · friends and loved ones · who knows?

the spider

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He’s been there at least a week now, maybe two.   The guest on our back deck is big.  really big.  And he makes me uncomfortable.  At first I didn’t like it at all that he had taken up residence. But, I’ve become accustomed to his presence in a “wincing when I slide open the glass door” kind of way.

That web he perches in is amazing.  His designs are unmatched, catching anyone’s attention who sets foot out my back door.  I suppose it is what he’s supposed to do, but it is still remarkable.

It is interesting how something so small can make me nervous and uneasy, creeped out, even jittery.  At first I didn’t even want to go near it.

So, the other day, I finally went out and stood right in front of the web to get a closer look and snap a photo or two.  And do you know what happened?  He ran, and fast.  He skittered right up that web and into the gutter.  I didn’t know spiders could move that quickly.  And I didn’t know he was afraid of me.

You know what this reminds me of?  Well, I’ll tell you.  For a few days I tried and tried to write about this spider and sin and how we need to be weary of it; be concerned, be watchful.  Because after all, the Bible says the devil is like a roaring lion trying to devour us all.  And my heart agrees with all of that.  My sinful nature can be devastating and I  must be vigilant.

But guess what?!?  That’s not what I need to write today, after watching that big ol’ spider retreat!  Nope.  I’m here to say that we don’t need to be AFRAID!  Sin and death are conquered!  We have true and complete victory in Christ!

Often I find myself fearful of the world and the moral and sinful failures we see on every hand.  The way sin seems to be running rampant can be completely overwhelming.   However, the truth remains that this is not a shock to our Heavenly Father.  All of this has been overcome by the power of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  And there is coming a day when Satan will be nothing more than a fearful, cowering, villain – afraid of his own shadow- just like the spider on my back deck- and he will be defeated!

These words from I Corinthians 15 sum it up, pretty well, giving the confidence to live without fear:

50 Now this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; nor does corruption inherit incorruption. 51 Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed— 52 in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. 53 For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. 54 So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.”

55 “O Death, where is your sting?  O Hades, where is your victory?”

56 The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. 57 But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

58 Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain in the Lord.

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Since my folks have moved here recently, I’ve been having all these little snippets of memories from my childhood play through my mind.  One such memory is a hymn we sang in church regularly, and I can’t help but sing it in my heart today:

O victory in Jesus,
My Savior, forever.
He sought me and bought me
With His redeeming blood;
He loved me ere I knew Him
And all my love is due Him,
He plunged me to victory,
Beneath the cleansing flood.

 

 

a bit of history · friends and loved ones

precious moments

A few weeks ago my folks moved south.  They packed up their belongings and left their home of 15 years and came to a new place.  I know they had a few good reasons to do something so crazy;  their names are Emily, Mackenzie and Isaac.   and my sister’s kids, Maggie, Max and Miles, are three more really good reasons who only live a few hours away.

But, I’m not fooled.  Leaving behind their friends who had been like family for more than decade was not a breeze.

At any rate, one afternoon once all the boxes arrived, I went over and helped mom unpack a few of her boxes labeled “breakable”.  That involved handling my mom’s very valuable collection of precious moments.  Each figurine holds a memory, and I loved reviewing my parents’ timeline as I pulled each one from the box.

but, this one:

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I may be wrong, but I believe my Mom received this Precious Moment as a gift when we moved from Danville, Illinois to London, Ontario.  Yep, that was five moves and 33 years ago.   My folks aren’t new to this crossing-the-country gig.   Back then – the move was monumental – at least that’s how my “little girl memory”  remembers it.  A lot of trust was required on my parents’ part in order to move our little family to a new place so far away .  It was a beginning; a journey in learning to believe God will keep his promise to provide every need.

How does one learn to trust in God’s provision, without being in need?

This question makes me think of the account in the Old Testament of the Israelites’ exodus.  Even though God promised a land of milk and honey, it took faith for them to leave Egypt, believing God was going to keep his word.   And even then, step by step they struggled to remember His provision, despite His intervention all along the way.

Honestly, I can’t say I’m any different.  Often my belief is mingled with doubt.   But, its also true that every promise kept, every need met, is another step away from that unbelief.

Okay, so back to those precious moments I was putting in my mom’s curio cabinet.  That little figurine which pictures the young couple moving is priceless, not just because it is an old collectable.  It is a valuable reminder for me.  For many moves, and many of life’s adventures God has proven himself faithful.  Again and again he has paved the way, leading them, always providing.

I’m so thankful for the tangible ways my parents have fleshed out their own faith.  It is His gift of faith to me, helping me believe this truth: He will be faithful to all of His children.  always.

 

 

friends and loved ones

sweet sixteen

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Friends.  When you’re a kid, waiting for that 16th birthday to roll around, those years can take forever.  Seriously, I remember.  Waiting to grow up is torture sometimes.

But, when you become a grown up, sixteen years can fly by like you’re in some kind of time-warp machine, especially when times are good.  and they are!

People used to tell me that’s how it would be, but I never believed them.  (I guess the fact that I’m even writing these words in a blog post means I have to admit that I also am an adult now. )

Well, let me tell you – the past 16 years have passed by on hyper drive.  I feel like my wedding to Michael Day was just yesterday.  Our honeymoon to Naples, Florida should be happening.   But, I blinked and here we are, with three children, careers, and the crazy life that goes with all of that; our hopes and dreams have melted together into a life that we love.

I never could have imagined I would love Michael so much more now than the day we got married.  I had no idea just how sweet our life together would be.

My heart is so grateful for this man I married.  Michael Day- I love you with my whole heart and can’t wait to see what the coming years will bring!  Happy sweet sixteen, baby!

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a bit of history · friends and loved ones · who knows?

the good work

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Philippians 1:6 –  being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ;

Not too long ago,  well, about 35 years ago, I began the journey…   Danville, Illinois was the place where I crossed the starting line.  I was five.

At age five, I found myself (pictured above, front row, first on the right, yellow frilly dress) in a children’s choir.  I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love music, singing, or being a part of a choir.   Even then I sat in the choir loft while my dad conducted rehearsals for the youth choir or the adult choir.  My place was in the alto section – always trying to fit into the harmonies.

I can’t remember what we are singing in this photo; possibly “I’ll be a Sunbeam for Jesus.” (And, even tho’ she says she doesn’t remember it, I think that’s my mom directing us.  I’d know the back of that head, or that red blazer anywhere…  )

Over the next few weeks I’ll be preparing to work with the children’s choir at my church.  Just the thought of it makes me smile, those sweet faces, their tender hearts and sometimes squeaky voices.   I can’t wait to get started.

Back then something was begun in me – a love for God and the fellowship of worshiping Him, voices united with others in singing.  It is unlike anything else.  The bonds that are formed when our hearts join together this way is unusual;  bonds with fellow believers, and a stronger love for our Savior.   What He began so long ago, He is still working in me – it is a big part of who I am and He is still making me into the worshiper He’s called me to be.

If I had time or a scanner, I could show you photos from all along this musical journey, how He’s shaped me and molded my talents to be this very specific musician-worshiper-pianist-singer-violinist-conductor – all a part of His design.      I’m grateful for this calling that He is fulfilling in my heart and life.  I’m thankful, too, that I get to see the children in my choir cross their starting line, believing this Scripture for them too: “that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.”  May He continue this good work until He returns and we all worship Him for eternity.  

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