Thai Skies and Slow Days (that Go Fast)

It's always a mysterious thing how we can be accomplishing a fair bit in any given day, yet the pacing and general sense of the place is this relaxed.

Our arrival Tuesday evening has given way to what is now already the end of our first week, and it's hard to know where the time has gone and how it could actually be Friday.  Sure, we lose a day in the time change, so that's a big factor.  And this trip we also prolonged the whole experience of getting here by dealing with a missed connecting flight in Taipei.  I'll give it that.

Even so, we have packed in more than one strategic planning meeting, two meet-and-greet dinners, two evening worship times with the kids, and today a visit over to the new property.    Zoom calls home for mentoring and meetings, connecting the Sponsors up for a "different kind of Valentine," and getting set to begin our English time today after school, and - poof! - the week's rolled into a very satisfying wrap.  That includes some very necessary afternoon naps to balance off the jet lag.  

I truly love every iteration of Team that I get to travel with.  AND, there's something uniquely good when Ken and I can be here together.  He is intrinsically involved in what God has called us both to do in their season of our life and marriage together, but mostly holds down the fort at home.  To have him be here, doing his best to sing along in Thai at worship times, remembering the kids' names, sitting at the table with graph paper and pencil, and a fancy rolling ruler, pulling Suradet aside to measure something in light of our big cite planning meeting yesterday, it's all part of what makes me love him more.

So, on this already-Friday, I am realizing I do need to take more pictures!  Which I hope to do when we visit the property later on.  

Actually did get some good shots 

of us marking off the dimensions of the building plan.

But also just of the kids themselves, especially with Ken.  And of course, sorry, not sorry, of the sunrise.

A little fun with some big leaves.

January in this part of Thailand could not be more perfect in weather.  Not too hot during the day, quite chilly actually (16 C) first thing in the morning, and no humidity to sweat about.   I know back in Canada there's snow and windchill, and, as cozy as all that sounds,  I am okay with missing all that right now.  

Just taking in these moments.  Grateful, oh so grateful.

Since my youth, O God, you have taught me,

and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds.

Even when I am old and gray,

do not forsake me, O God,

till I declare your power to the next generation,

your might to all who are to come.

Psalm 71:17-18

Winter Skies and Snow Days

 

I am all set with my cup of tea, ready to hunker down to some of the last bits of desk work before leaving for Thailand Sunday night.  But I make my tea by the window, and I can see the morning sky getting all special.  So I put on my coat and boots and stand in the fresh dawn for a bit. 

Yesterday's snowfall was, shall we say, significant.  We did three separate shoveling stints in various configuration of teams, between Ken and myself, and also David and Jamie (the downstairs tenant/friend in the main house).  At least it wasn't heavy.  And it actually felt good to get outside and move around.  

I was grateful to be among those who did not have to venture out yesterday, able to just stay home and off the roads like everyone was encouraging us to do.  Have I mentioned how cozy and heat-efficient our new little house is?  There's that fabulous moment of stepping back into the house after the last bit of shoveling, fingers all numb, and being welcomed back in all toasty.

By this morning things are moving pretty well again, although with a forecast of another 3-7 cm beginning this afternoon, I think.  Never mind.  We can handle that.

But that's for later anyways.  Right now, the sky is reminding me of things glorious and beautiful and free.

I am glad to get out and take these pictures to show to the kids when I get there.  They are always so fascinated with the snow.  

Three more full days left.  Best warm up that cup of tea and get down to these last items on the list.  Grateful for such a strong sense of God's care and presence through some unexpected things this week.  Curious to see what these next weeks will bring.  Not a lot of snow, I'm thinking.

Happy Friday everyone.

A Prayer for the Big and Far Away Times

 

In the midst of what is otherwise a reasonable preparation-in-the-last-week-before-the-trip, I am finding the need to stop and just feel some things.

A number of people I love are carrying big things right now, and it's all happening all at once, or so it seems.  And it's all happening just now, before I leave for a bit.

It's only three weeks that I'll be away, and there's the wonder of all the means by which we can and will connect, I know.  But it is far away.  

I should be, and perhaps I'm getting to where I'm familiar with this both/and deal.  The tension between my two worlds, and that heightened sense of our human limitations of only being in one place at one time, even when I wish it was otherwise.

Because some of these things feel big.  And heavy.  And hard.  And I just need to stop and allow myself to feel it.

And in the pause to feel, I feel Him.  And it's like He stands before me and takes my hands in His and says, "Guess what?  I actually am in more than one place at a time."

Big, slow breath.  Yes.  This.  

And then the words of Paul, writing to beloveds who were far away and dealing with big things of their own...

....And having just reminded them that we can approach God "with freedom and confidence" (3:12 - gotta love that image!), 

Paul's prayer becomes my own prayer for this big and far away time right now.

For this reason I keel before the Father,

from Whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name.

I pray that out of His glorious riches 

He may strengthen you 

with power through His Spirit in your inner being,

 so that 

Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.  

And I pray that you, 

being rooted and established in love, 

may have power, 

together with all the Lord's holy people, 

to grasp how wide 

and long 

and high 

and deep 

is the love of Christ, 

and to know this love that surpasses knowledge 

-- that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians (3:14-19)

Yes.  All that.

And I imagine myself at Hot Springs, bouncing around to the song that was totally inspired by this text, about God's Everlasting Love being higher, deeper, reaching....  And knowing I'll be praying it over all those I can't be with at the moment, because God  is looking after all of it.

This pause is powerful.  And quiet.  And a welcome humbling.

One Year!

 

Marking one year in our new little house.

What an adventure it's been; all the prep to move out of our home of 36 years on Blythwood, all the planning for and then watching the construction, all the storage and shuffling of furniture and goods.

And then, one year ago on this day, we were granted occupancy and slept for the first time in what has truly become home for us.

Honestly, I do not miss the old house and the old neighbourhood as much as I expected.  Maybe because after one year we still really LOVE where we are.

We thank God for His prompting on this idea in the first place, and for sustaining us through the rather significant transition.  We are so very grateful for His love and provision all along the way.

We are grateful for the friends who came alongside and helped pack and clean.  Could not have done this without you.

We are also incredibly grateful for our son David who wanted to do this with us, made some sacrifices to make it happen, and has proven himself a gracious, honest, reliable son.  A full year later and we are all really glad we did it.  Or did I say that already?

So happy House Anniversary to us!  God is good.  

Winter's 4 O'clock Hush

 

I'm going to make a statement here that I don't expect to be popular.

I actually like it this time of year when it starts to get dark around 4:30 or so.

Yeah, I know.  But I'm already the weird lady who loves early mornings, so I figure I don't have much to lose in the 'what people think of me' department, so hey. 

But it's true.  Along with very early in the morning, this is my favourite time of day in these weeks after Christmas.  For a few reasons.

One is that it's the part of the day that I call it quits on the 'have tos' part of my list.  Unless I happen to have an evening meeting (because, well, there are a lot of volunteer type folks who have day jobs, God bless 'em), I am pretty disciplined about not taking the work day past 4 p.m.  So the ritual of closing up shop and lowering the blinds to signal the end of day provides that sense of moving into a more relaxed state of being, ready to start supper preparations and welcome the quieter activities of evening.  

Now, of course this would be true any time of the year.  But right now, this close to solstice, when 4:00 p.m. also begins the gradual-fade-to-black of the sky, there is a corelated sense of closing in and hunkering down, of being all safe and sound in that sacred place called home.  As if the early fade of light wraps around the house and snugs us in.

And also, right now, this close to Christmas, there are still lights.  And anyways, even much beyond Christmas, into the deeper winter, I keep the lights.  Because they are gentle against the harshness of the weather outside, holding their own and being defiantly delicate, and that making a difference somehow.

So here I should say that, yes, I realize my stage of life and the fact that I am not raising children, and not coming home from work, or dealing with a commute, or any of the other rougher ways a work day can end when you're in a different iteration of family, greatly contributes to how I feel about 4 o'clock now.  I remember those days.  When the kids were young enough and naps were being discarded, and the pre-supper blood sugar drops were catastrophic, we called this 'the arsenic hour.'  So, there's that.

I should also say that I get the way the lesser light brings on the drearies, generally speaking.  Just checked my weather ap and I don't think there's one of those sunshiney icons until Monday!  Yikes.  I'll notice that for sure.

But at 4 p.m. or so, it doesn't seem to matter as much.  Because the work day is done, and I've lowered the blinds to close out the rest of the crazy world for a while.  I can begin the gradual winddown towards a hushed space of cozy love that will soon enough lead me to the blessed rest of sleep.  

"In peace I will lie down and sleep,

for you alone, LORD, make me dwell in safety."

Psalm 4:8

Receiving and accepting this sacred space of early winter evenings has become something of a spiritual practice for me over the past few years.  Yes it's darker, and yes, let's not neglect our Vitamin D.  But giving way to the tender ministrations this time of year, this time of day offers, has increasingly brought good gifts of insight, and reflection, and simple joy, and deep, sustaining contentment.

I write these things wishing it was something I could collect in a mason jar, all sparkling softly and smelling like peace.  I wish I could hand it out to whoever needs it, whoever needs to be reminded that the dark days of winter remind us that it's good to hunker down in our souls sometimes, and be quiet in the waiting of it.  Because it is a crazy world out there.  Cold and sloppy.  

So bring on the hush of 4 o'clock, and let the evening begin.

Lighting the Way into the New Year

 

These first days of 2026 have been a quick series of happy little contrasts between cozy and crazy.

With the fridge full and the calendar clear, we've been able to quietly stay at home during blustery weather, playing Scrabble, doing puzzles, and catching up on the odd Christmas movie we hadn't got around to yet.  After a significantly demanding fall, these simple joys are not taken for granted, especially as it only reinforces our deep contentment with our snug little home.

The crazy part wasn't actually so crazy.  Having Jayden and Timothy for a sleep over went so smoothly, especially considering we are still finding the best ways to do this in our different configuration.  There used to be an entirely separate room with bunkbeds and toy storage.  Now there's the excitement of pushing the mattresses up from the crawl space through the hatch, and setting everything up on the floor of the front room between the couch and the fireplace.  But at 8 and 5 respectively, the boys are more than happy to pitch in and help make it cozy.  And it's especially helpful when the shelves Grandad is building double as something of a fort downstairs.  Who knew?  

All this is reassuring, since one of the big things we were worried about in the move was how it would change our opportunities for connecting with the grandkids like this.  Add in a winter walk, a picnic supper on the floor, and a game of Bandito, not to mention a few goodies to snack on, and we all agreed it was a very successful sleepover!

Yesterday was recovery day.  A good nap in the afternoon after the boys left, then a bit of a re-sort and put away of some of the Christmas decor.  Not all, because I'm not quite ready for that yet, even though we did take down the Christmas tree to make room for the mattresses.  I did find two 'extra' strands of lights that I'd put away in a strange place when we first moved in, and therefore didn't use for my decorating at the beginning of this season.  So I thought I'd see how they might help add to some winter ambiance. 

So, one in the bedroom around the window.

And one around the cabinet in the same corner where the Christmas tree was.  I'm liking it!

A big part of what I miss when we have to take down the Christmas tree is the soft light coming from that corner of the room.  There's an obvious benefit to some extra light during these very short days of solstice, and I've found keeping some of that going into January, February and even a little bit of March helps push back the dreary in helpful ways.

And all of it -- reflecting on the holidays, re-setting the house a little, putting up extra lights, mapping out my list for next week -- is really about doing what I can to lean into what is shaping up to be a positive start to this new year ahead.  Preparing what I can.  Making space for what I can't know yet.  Being hopeful and inspired and realistic and prudent.  Providing light for myself along the way, and hopefully for others I might meet on the road.

I guess it's a little like letting the lights of the Christmas, and the coming of the Light Himself, shine longer into the deeper winter ahead.

And all of this takes me back to Isaiah 58, a truly anchoring text for what I believe keeps me focused on God's 'main thing.'  In it, the prophet speaks for God in correcting His people about losing sight of the true worship of feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, and releasing the oppressed.  That's more than this one post can handle right now.  But it's interesting that one of the promised outcomes of worshiping God through justice and equality is this:

"Then your light will break forth like the dawn,

and your healing will quickly appear,

then your righteousness will god before you,

and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard."

Isaiah 58:8

Sounds like something I'd want to be part of.  

This morning our gathering as a faith community will be around food.  Plenty for everyone.  And a great time to say hello again after the holidays.  This afternoon a nap is still in good order, considering the stepped up pace of the week to come.  Plus, there's really only two weeks left before Ken and I hope to get on a plane and head over to Thailand.  So I want to pace myself accordingly.

Oh yes, the new year has begun, and I'm all in for whatever God has in mind.  

Happy New Year to all.

May you have many chances to shine brightly!

Just Saying the Loud Part Out Loud

  

Supermoon, November 2025, Thailand

I proclaim your saving acts in the public places;

I do not seal my lips, LORD, as You know.

I do not hide Your righteousness in my heart;

I speak of Your faithfulness and Your saving help.

I do not conceal your love and Your faithfulness

from the public places...

May all who seek You rejoice and be glad in You;

may those who long for Your saving help always say,

"The LORD is great!"

Psalm 40:9-10, 16

I am feeling strongly compelled to join the psalmist this particular night.

New Year's Eve, and so so much to proclaim and speak, and no desire to keep in inside.

The Lord is great, yes He is.  Mysterious and uncontrollable, knowing but not explaining Himself most of the time, but gentle and generous and merciful to me.  

And I just have to say so as the year comes to a close.  Because it's been such a God-filled year, at every turn.  I just seems wrong not to give this voice.

This sentiment is also reflected in a worship song that I believe was new to me this year.  It's title is simple.  "Praise" by Elevation Worship.  I love the energy of it.  And it begins with a repeated refrain, "Let everything that has breath praise the Lord" (from Psalm 50:6).  But this whole idea that we can't help ourselves when we've got something spectacular to say is in the bridge.

"I won't be quiet, my God is alive

So how could I keep it inside?"

And so, dear, dear amazing, beautiful God.  

Where should I begin?  Oh my!

First, thank You for being in charge, and so big, and so wild.

Thank You for all the ways You have shown up for us this past year of 2025.  For the generous gifts of house and home, of warmth and belonging, of safety and health, and for the over and above provision for all our needs.  Thank You for continually teaching me, correcting me, guiding me.  Thank You for all the answered prayer, for all the challenges that drove me deeper, for all the love that sustained me, for every beautiful soul I encountered and learned from.  

With You all things are possible, and that means 2026 is embraced with open arms, no matter what.  

With confidence and anticipation and joy and wonder, 

Yours always,

Me

May your New Year bring so much of life and blessing that it makes you all mushy and expressive too (or at least as much as you care to be).  

Happy 2026 to us all.