Signs of the Times and Tethering Trust

That's five for five this work week, out for a morning walk. Glad to be on the other side of whatever that nasty head and sinus thing was, and to be breathing in deeply the first fresh air of the day.

Noticed this sign at the edge of one of the fields, and just had to include it in my theme for this week.

What catches my attention, obviously, is the part where it has to let us all know that "THIS IS NOT CANNABIS."

I laughed out loud!

Friends, never in all my widest 1970's high school student imaginations would I ever have thought that one day I'd be walking past a field that some might mistake for an open grow of pot! And that a sign distinguishing between hemp and cannabis might be necessary since cannabis was now actually, unbelievably a legal thing to grow. Back then, some of my fellow students would have thought it was a pipe dream, pun intended.

The pivot of thinking and attitude and even values concerning marijuana (notice how we don't even call it that anymore?) between then and now could not be more dramatically swung.

I will not be commenting this morning, or any time, on my own opinions about legalization of certain substances. That's because I do not in any way have an unbiased, or even remotely cognitive position on the matter. Just a full-blown, historical, circumstantial, and emotional gut reaction that disqualifies me from any reasonable debate. So, not going there.

But what strikes me today is the dramatic change of it. The contrast I'm painting between my teen years and now. How completely and diametrically opposed it seems to me, and how do I navigate that much change in my world?

I'm adapting to a lot of change right now. Even in these pre-move months, because of having the house show-ready at all times, my toothbrush isn't even where I normally keep it. It's surprising how the little things catch you like that. When I moved from my office at the church to setting up here at the house, it was paper clips.

But of course it's not just the little things. It's the big changes, and how fast they happen and how much all at once. And how much they affect the day to day living out of life, and our ways of relating to one another, and how we pay our bills, and how we worship, and what language is or is not offensive, and where we lay our heads.

Change is good. There's no growth without change. And looking back, some of the most wretched, unwanted changes of my life turned out to be exactly what I needed and at just the right time, and I wouldn't go back to the way it was.

Still. I find an ironic correlation between my ability to navigate change, -- big or small, gradual or sucker-punch, -- and the strength of my tether to what does not.

"You will keep in perfect peace
those whose minds are steadfast,
because they trust in You.
Trust in the LORD forever,
for the LORD, the LORD Himself,
is the Rock eternal."
Isaiah 26:4

"Shalom, shalom" is how it reads in Hebrew.
Perfect peace, undisturbed by fields of hemp or hidden toothbrushes.

Or even by the changes ahead I can see coming but still are not clear to me.

The Rock eternal, oh yes.
Trust tethers me.

Is it Friday already?
That went fast.
Happy weekend everyone.
And for whatever changes you might navigating I hope you find your tether.
And your toothbrush.

Everything I Needed to Know About Life I Learned in the Roundabout

 

Pushing myself even further this morning, and it was a glorious sky for sure. I'm still in David Johnston Business Park - that's where I can get the best and longest view of the sunrise - but I'm experimenting with different routes within.

It's amazing how you can get an entirely new perspective just from being on a different sidewalk. The sun between evergreens, for example. And for those tired of my field view horizon sunrise shots, you're welcome.

This new little adventure took me around not one but two roundabouts this morning. And I know I'm not prone to writing about controversial topics, but today I'm feeling brave so I'll talk about roundabouts anyways.

Most folks don't like them. And for pedestrians, I am not a fan myself. In fact, any time other than a sunrise walk in a no-cars-yet business park, I do my best to avoid them.

But for driving, I think I do okay. In fact, it seems that roundabouts, like kindergarten, could actually teach us a lot about life.

There's no rush.
Everybody take their turn.
Stay in your lane.

Give each other space.
A gentle tap on the horn can actually be helpful.
A blaring horn just ruins someone's day.
It helps if you have a clear idea of where you're going before you join the circle.

And, back to the pedestrians,
always, always be on the look out for those who don't have the protection of a car wrapped around them, i.e. the more vulnerable.


If I wanted to make a political observation out of this,
perhaps the best way forward is a gentle swing right before going left, or the other way around. Although, in politics and in driving, I'm not always sure about the signaling, I'll admit.

Okay, perhaps I'm making more of this sign thing I've got going than I should. Even so, I don't mind tacking on a Proverb about walking and direction just about now.

"Give careful thought to the paths for your feet
and be steadfast in all your ways."
Proverbs 4:26

So walking or driving, on a straight way or a roundabout, stay safe out there everyone.

Moving Right Along

I'm still into the signs this morning, so go with me on this.

Paul's famous "cognitive behaviour therapy" piece in Philippians 4:6-8 swings into my brain as I keep pace on my morning walk past this "No Parking" reminder.

"Do not be anxious about anything,
but in every situation,
by prayer and petition,
with thanksgiving,
present your requests to God.

"And the peace of God,
which transcends all understanding,
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

"Finally, brothers and sisters,
whatever is true,
whatever is noble,
whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely,
whatever is admirable --
if anything is excellent or praiseworthy --
think about such things."

It doesn't take much to be able to make a negative-contrast list here, of all the things we're NOT supposed to think about. And it's obvious why.

All those untrue, ignoble, impure, unlovely, deplorable, inferior and disgraceful thoughts, memories, and imaginations are like cars parked in places that disrupt the flow of traffic.

How can we get to the peace with all that in the way? How can our minds and hearts move forward to a God-breathed future, if we get stuck behind the barrier of a thought parked where it shouldn't be?

It's not like we're not supposed to think about our problems, or work through damaging events from the past. But, like the Christian cognitive behaviour therapist that walked me through a dark time in my life observed, "it seems the Bible instructs us not to think about our problems without attaching a promise."

And if the "parked car" in the way is a bold faced lie?
Like, "You're a failure." "You're not enough." "You're forgotten."
Well then.
Let's call the tow truck and get that hunk of junk out of there!

Lots of changes ahead for me, and while I embrace them, and participate freely in them, change can still be stressful. And that same therapist also reminded me that when we are under stress we tend to revert back to old, unhealthy patterns of thinking.

So I'm glad for the fresh open sky and a barrier free way before me to begin this day. I'm glad for Paul's tried and true list to keep me moving towards God's peace.

Wishing you a worry-free Wednesday, friends.

Full Stop

Got out again this morning, and pushed myself a bit further.

Feels good.

And the crab apple trees on our street are in bloom.
So pretty.

And I'm still on a sign-thing from yesterday I guess, because the way the sun was glancing off this STOP sign caught my attention.
So random, I know.

But I kind of just like the simplicity of this. The obvious benefit/danger ratio of a traffic STOP sign, and how foolish it is to ignore it. And how easily this transfers to points along the way in the everyday journey that is life.

"Stop struggling
Cease striving
Be still....
and know that I am God."
Psalm 46:10

And what if I did that in the normal course of a day, a week, a month, a year, as habitually as I do when I'm driving the car?

Full stop. One thousand and one, one thousand and two, one thousand and three.

All clear?

Move forward.

Making decisions.
Finishing one project before jumping into the next.
Giving full attention to the person I'm with.
Catching myself in a fret, tempted to rush into a solution.
Pausing in a moment of gratitude.
Breathing in the sweet moments with small children.
Discerning how to respond to an insult or criticism.
Staying still in any moment of awe.

Full stop. One thousand and one...
Oh yeah.
You are God and I am not.

And as arrogant and outrageous as that last phrase sounds when I write it out loud, isn't that what I'm confused about when I screech around the corner on my way to do everything, fix everything?

Full stop. One thousand and one...
Oh yeah.

I hope we have lots of opportunities to STOP today.
Who knows?
Might help us avoid colliding with ourselves.

A Fresh Morning Sky and a Sign

Gotta say that being in the throes of selling our home and getting sick at the same time has sort of thrown me off my game.

Normally, by this time of the season, the sun is rising at just the right moment for me to get myself out the door for some wide open space under the sky. Such a strong and orienting way to begin the day. Anytime anyone asks me what practices I observe in order to keep me spiritually balanced, sunrise walking is top on my list. (Or soon, kayaking. Same deal.)

But lately, not so much. And I'm really feeling it. Plus, open houses sort of rob you of a weekend. I know that's part of the deal, but, just sayin'.

If nothing else, it's been a solid reminder of how imperative it is for me to make sure I give myself space to breathe. Space to 'cease striving.' Space to be as gentle with myself as I expect myself to be with others. How easily my driven-ness devolves into impatience and frustration, and worse, a delusional sense of being able to control outcomes.

This sign very likely represents a work-shift reality brought on by the pandemic where now there is a lot more office space available as people remain working from home. And, of course, that's a whole different conversation.

But as I walked past it this morning I decided to make it my slogan for this week, and on into our current life adventure of the move.

At the end of every day, at the end of every week, into the hours of the weekend, there should be space available.

And can I just say? It was such a tonic for my soul to be back to worship together on Sunday morning. I need, need, need the reorientation of my spirit to the bigness of God in this way. And, as I joked with Derek, it's funny how every worship song I hear right now is all about the move.

Happy Monday.
Sure hope you are able to make space available for your own soul.
Just to breathe.
Just to be.
Just to let the sky be big and wide and wonderful.

Speak Your Name

I will speak your name.

Evelyn.

Really you.

Really us.

The other day we were asked how many grandchildren we have, 

and Grandad did that thing we always do when someone asks.

The pause to count.

And it looks bad, 

like we don't know, 

or have to think about it.

But we do have to think about it.

Because really we have six.

So you see how that works.

You left us so quickly, 

but still you're here.

Always.

You're always with us, Sweetie.

Always our baby girl.

Evelyn.

With that lovely 'y' flowing all cursive-like.

Like all your sibs.

Baby girl.

Except you wouldn't be a baby by now.

You'd be five.

If you'd stayed, you'd be five.

And somehow that makes this year sadder for me.

And all the bad things that have ever happened

can collect around it to weigh it down even more.

And I think I'll just need to stay here in this sad place for a bit.

Which I think is the cost of loving you.

Remarkable, really.

How much you are loved

and all you did was be born to us.

And then it's like I feel you tugging at my hand.

Any time I imagine you, you are always so full of joy.

Laughing.

Running.

Dancing.

I truly do believe there's a lot of dancing where you are.

And then your second name.

I will speak it too.

Hope.

Thursday's Thrillium

 

"If that's how God clothes the grass of the field (and flowers), which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you - you of little faith. So do not worry."
Matthew 6:30-31

There are brand new baby trilliums out in the woods right now. Caught these yesterday, quietly being stunning by the base of a tree.

And this morning, even though I'm not quite up to doing a full 4.5 km, I got in the van and parked strategically so that I could take in some of the sunrise in a shorter stint.

Walking weakens my worry some.
How can it not?
Look at those new white petals!
Look at that fresh wide sky!

That same Creator is creating a way forward through any and every challenge ahead. Every spring awakening, He is. Every new morning, He is. Every day, He is way ahead of me, making impossible things possible.

So, absurd alliteration addictions notwithstanding, I hope your Thursday is full of hope and expectation.