Fresh Journal

Pages empty, waiting to see where the story will take me
Clean and unmarked, new mercies for every morning on its way
And that's good
Because I need all the mercy I can get

Pen at the ready
Heart at the ready
Listening and waiting for beautiful direction only clear as I take each step
Write each line
Turn over each page
In faith hoping for a stronger, wiser, more humble me
To emerge at the other cover

I will record the events of the year
The important words of friends
The whispers of and to my soul
Hurts and healings
Wounds and wonders
Losses and impossible gains

Fresh new journal of journey
And it all begins today

Honestly!

I'm pretty sure I need to work on being more honest. I think. Maybe.

As New Year's Eve arrives, and with it that wonderful opportunity for some contemplative meditations and stuff, and given some recent relational reflections that are coming into focus for me....yes....I'm thinking about relational honesty and how it may be that some of my relationships have been lacking. My bad. Or is it?

While I like to consider myself a truth-telling person, I'm certainly not ready to rush into the kind of honesty that just "tells it like it is". Sometimes it feels like I should be good at frank, honest speech, given my age (some of my friends call this "old and bold") and the kind of work I do, where relationships of integrity are essential. But I've been the victim of other people's "honesty" and it's not been pleasant. I bear scars. I have also, from time to time, tended to the wounds of others who have been damaged by "honesty".

Add to this sense of woundedness, is this fact that I keep running into this "others' focused" kinds of teachings in the Bible that seem to encourage me to keep quiet. Like "A man's wisdom give him patience; it is to his glory to overlook an offense." Proverbs 19:11

And, as my wise friend Erin reminds me, I am grateful for those in my life who've overlooked MY offenses!

Then there's the cultural consideration that my limited exposure to South East Asia provides me. In Thailand there is no such thing as "relational honesty" as we understand it in North America. Respect and deference are the primary values. One would never insult and violate another by confronting someone about an offense directly. Any corrective word needs to go through another. That's respectful. "Relational honesty" is incredibly rude in that context. Are they right and we're wrong?

So....I'm curious. How do I practice honesty AND overlook an offense?

Any ideas?

I'd appreciate your honest feed back :).

Post-Christmas With The Crank

It's not exactly been what I was expecting.

These "down-time" days between Christmas and New Year's have, in the past, been just as eagerly anticipated as all the fun, festivities and worship of the weeks leading up to and including Christmas Day. A time for resting, coming away, being quiet.

For Ken and I, it's also been a chance to reconnect and say I love you in more than just the fleeting ways one often defaults to in a busy household and a busy life. Just those few nothing-on-the-calendar days can deposit so much into the cherishing account. Lovely. Needful.

But this year's been different.

Leading up to Christmas - over the top! We all worked hard, both at home and at church, to make things wonderful and beautiful and Christmasful. And it was worth it. Decorations up early, setting the stage. Strong and well spoken Christmas series for Sunday mornings. Stellar, redemptive Staff and Spouses Dinner at our house on the 16th. Three performances this year of Let It Be Christmas, with record attendance totaling 430. Watching groups of people working together for the common good, being generous and gracious and making all out investments in the lives of others. Hearing Abby recite the pieces of the Christmas story, all throughout the season, as her Dad led the family Advent liturgies. Being as much as possible altogether for all of Christmas Day - a gift this family does not take for granted. I am grateful for it all. Christmas 2011 will be remembered with affection and deep satisfaction.

It's this post-Christmas time that's been less than what, so badly it feels, I need it to be. An infectious 'something' with one of the kids required the cancellation of an important connect for Ken and I, and rearrangements in who would travel where to what over the next two days after Christmas. A cold I'd been able to ward off during the pre-Christmas activity, has won over now, not in a severe way, but just enough to make me feel really tired. The three day privilege of acting as full-time Gramma, that I eagerly volunteered for, has revealed that I have lost that skill of finding meaningful but completely interruptable things to do while delightful small children play at my feet for extended periods of time.

Add to that a pre-Christmas, perceived-by-me relational snub that feels way bigger than it probably is, and that the holidays make difficult to follow up on, and I am, quite frankly, well.....cranky. I do not feel any after Christmas glow. Like, really don't. And I know that all too soon, I will be back into the swing of what the new year holds, knowing some of the challenges that face me once I step foot into my office on January 3rd, and the energies this will require....and....yeah....cranky.

And I write about this not to complain, because the truth is I have so much abundance in my life that complaining is truly wrong. And being cranky in the middle of it seems wrong. So maybe I'm writing to confess the crankiness, in hopes that will help it go away. Or to acknowledge that down days of disappointment and loneliness can still happen in the midst of an abundant life. And to help me remember this when engaging with people who struggle with so much more than I do, and are heroically NOT cranky.

And anyways, I'm sustained.

I was reminded of that as I sat crankily beside the fire during nap time yesterday, crying and feeling sorry for myself. "I am he, I am he who will sustain you." Isaiah 46:4. Oh, how gentle is this God who comes to sit beside the crank.

And now today begins with nothing particularly different planned than yesterday. So we'll see. I still feel cranky as I get myself up. But I think this could be another great day to let Him be my sustaining God. And that's a post-Christmas gift I can be grateful for.

Oh For Joy

Christmas Eve.

The day of it already starts to hum with the joy, even before it's hardly begun. It's the first thing I think in my waking up, and I stretch into the prayer that will orient my day around the Yahweh who brought the joy to the world in the first place, the manger place.

Just think of it! God wraps our injured flesh around Himself and lays down in humility to begin His rescue plan. He had everything to lose and nothing to gain....except me. You and me. Did all this for that. Keeping promises whispered to prophets and farmers and kings, who knew He was coming, just not exactly how or when, but spoke the joy out of time and ahead of time.

Redemption's bell is rung, and you can't un-ring a bell, not ever. Instead it peels, sending a ribbon of restoration and hope and peace and joy, out ahead of itself toward a dark day of non-joyful joyfulness where Godman seals the deal in blood. Peeling forward, joy continues its power play straight into death. And wins!

And there's a party. All the time, there's a party. Only, at this time of year we call the party Christmas.

And today it's Christmas Eve. And, oh the joy, the freedom joy, the peace joy, the generous joy, that wraps the last gifts, and gets tomorrow's breakfast ready, and sets the table for the feasting, and builds a fire to be ready, and heads down to the church to be together in joy with just so many others (So many! And that in itself is an entirely related and entirely other kind of joy!).....who want to let it be Christmas already!

Christmas Eve. The day vibrates with joy. It can't help itself.

Me neither.

Almost Christmas Peace

If I could I'd fix it all
But He could and He doesn't
Not now, not yet

We are left in the tension between
Destiny and reality
Knowing incompletely
Wondering
We're left wondering in our faith
Which is why they call it faith

If I could I'd make peace mandatory
For every human person
Regardless
No torment of the deeper places
No worrying
About anything

But He could and He doesn't
Not now, not yet

We're left in the tension of choosing it
Or not

Peace as a chosen state
Instead of the result of agreeable circumstance
Peace in the midst of sensationally disagreeable circumstance
Possible choice

But we forget
Or we don't know
Or we don't know how
So we negate available peace
And complain instead

If I could I'd make everyone choose peace
But then
It wouldn't be a choice

Peace on earth
A Christmas pronouncement
That begins in my own mind
With my own soul
And sparkles quietly outward
I hope it does

I hope the peace I choose
Brings peace to others
By proxy

That's how peace on earth can be

So sleep well these pre-Christmas nights
Heavenly
Getting ready
for the Prince of it

In The Morning

In the morning, O LORD, you hear my voice;
In the morning I lay my requests before you
and wait in expectation.

Psalm 5:3


I admit it.
I am a morning person.
Love the new mercies of the sunrise,
The fresh moments waiting,
Promises waiting to be unfolded.

In the morning God is not any nearer
But my soul is more still
And my ears more eager to listen.

Even frosty dawns bring life and light
To a world waking under God's watchful eye.

Old Mirrors

I found myself standing there again this morning. That now more familiar territory of actually knowing and liking myself, and standing in the quiet confidence of it.

It's a little weird to be just arriving here by now. I'm 54, a Gramma, having raised 2 children before that, lived an already full life. I've weathered ministry storms of catastrophic proportions. I'm at a season of life where you might think one would have figured out the whole self-identity thing long ago. But my journey hasn't been a normal one, particularly not in the venue of "career". It's taken a longer, roundabout route for me to be known as and know myself as Pastor. And so, I find that I get to experience this sense of self-discovery in 'younger' ways, like I was still a 20-something maybe. I don't mind. I think it's keeping me from being too settled just yet.

This morning it happened as I listened to two people in conversation, who knew I was there and visually included me, but were really having their own dialogue, and I didn't interrupt. They were talking about the essence of what I do and who I am, the art of preaching particularly. Not totally in a specific to Ruth Anne kind of way, but talking about me just the same, smiling.

One of them was from my past and one, Lord willing, will very likely be a significant part of my future. One has known me and shaped me and has offered perceptions of me to me for a long time, having allowed me to partner with and learn from, but coming from a history of intimately knowing my insecure, unactualized self. The other, only recently being part of the kind of work we do together, has only ever seen me at this later stage of life, and perceives me quite differently. And as I stood there on the fringe of their talking, it was like being able to see both me's.

Fascinating.

I wonder if for too long I've let people hold up old mirrors, and believed that the reflection there was still valid. At the cottage there are some old mirrors, all veined and distorted, kind of cool, I guess, but not good for getting a clear picture of your face. If I accepted what came to me from that mirror, I would not feel very good about myself. Actually, I'd hardly really be able to see myself as I am today, I think. Looking into that mirror, for instance, I lack wisdom and discernment, don't know what I'm doing, am a pushover for being manipulated into all manner of ways of doing what others should do, and apparently need to be corrected lots...like lots. The old mirrors want to suggest that I'm too sensitive, too inexperienced, and don't have what it takes to lead...and that this picture is 'me'. They might call on how long they've known me to justify what they are reflecting back to me is me, now.

And a lot that list of what they've seen in years past has been true. Growing up is hard to do. It's a rough job making us holy along the way. And I will always and ever be grateful for those who have put up with my immaturity and insecurity and let me stumble along with them towards this becoming of me.

But these days, others are holding up newer mirrors. Who I am now is being reflected back to me by people who are engaging with me now, and the picture is very different, it seems. Not without imperfections. Heaven forbid I don't have people around me that can still speak into that. But recently, just in the past three weeks especially, I've been described in very affirming ways by a variety of people in very different settings. Really? I'm just shaking my head and peering closer into these new mirrors.

Hey! I think I like me!

Like I said. This should be basic. Should be something I figured out a long time ago. But, oh well, I'm just getting to it now.

And reason this matters isn't just about how I'm liking feeling this way, although it's kind of fun. It's about how knowing who I am and being confident in the new reflections helps me, in turn, speak positively into the lives of others. Knowing me and being okay with me means I don't have to get tangled up in trying to please past mentors. Knowing me and liking me means I can be free to preach with more authenticity, more transparency. Knowing me and celebrating me means I can relax in the presence of others and more fully engage with their spirits, without agenda or judgment. Knowing me and embracing me means I have more energy to hold up new mirrors to others, and hopefully reflect back the wonderful beauty their soul's potential.

And so, back to the conversation.....I left it joyful.

We haven't thrown out the old mirrors at the cottage. They're vintage. They remind us of where we've come from and the treasured faces of family before us who peered at themselves when the mirrors were new. There's heritage in those old mirrors, and I love them....a lot.

But I am me now.

And I'm liking this.

Christmas Spirit Whisperings

Quiet preparations, unhurried, begin
And gradually Spirit whispers into me
"O come and adore again."

So I do
The now frosted sunrise
Vanilla of candles
Small, warm lights on green
Hand made messages of Joy to mail
Gifts, careful-bought and tucked away hiding

Words crafted to Let It Be Christmas
Praying, hoping that they bring something new, inspiring, lifting
Prayers on knees in the quiet of early, early Sunday morning
Before anyone else arrives








O Generous Father
Courageous Son
Pervasive Spirit
Come again to us

Make us ready

A Not So Feminist Rant

There's healing happening for me in what's on at Highview this Sunday.

Dr. Bill Webb, author, conference speaker, professor and leading theologian in understanding redemptive Christianity, will be speaking about those troubling texts in our Bible regarding women and what they are and are not supposed to be doing in Christ's church. This is part of a broader series of three weeks, covering other weird and wacky parts of Scripture (slavery texts and war texts), and was first imagined and planned for way back last March.

I knew in advance this would be a good thing for Highview. First, to have Bill share his expertise and insights on these matters is no small deal, given his status in the academic community, and the scope of his influence in shaping contemporary Christian thought. We are truly humbled and honoured to have him teach us these three weeks.

And, of course there's the matter of helping us know better how to read our Bibles, and not to be afraid of the parts that seem troubling to us. Bill is truly adept at taking complex textual analysis and making it understandable to regular people who sincerely want to live for Jesus.

But I'm surprised at how I am personally responding on an emotional level as I anticipate the particular session this week. As much as I would like to believe I am relaxed and confident in my femaleness as a spiritual leader, I go deeper and find something trembling there....with anticipation.

Yes! This Sunday something very personal will be affirmed! It's okay to be me. It's okay to be a woman AND to lead a spiritual community!

The story of my journey to the position of pastor is one where the facts and events are fairly well known; at least within the scope of the church, and the friends who've walked this way with me. There was a church-merger, where an egalitarian position on the role of women in leadership was adopted. Then, a year on the sidelines, while the new church found its leadership stride, but without "forcing" a female Elder on anyone. Then a gradual stepping into increments of greater responsibility as we grew beyond the sum of our parts into a new entity.

In the years that followed, there was the departure of first one, then another male colleague, and the decision on the part of the church itself to invite me to step into the void and take the lead as senior pastor. All the while, there has been and continues to be the ongoing educational piece as I seek to "retrofit" by means of grad studies. In all, I am acutely aware of the risks others have been willing to take as I have been embraced to lead by a church bold enough to stand differently in the realm of fairly traditional evangelicals.

Yet, as affirming as the broader picture my story paints, it hasn't come without personal woundings.

Overt patronizing, malicious gossip, outright rejection, insulting job offers. Requests to perhaps avoid talking about what I do "at the church" and just talk about my husband and children, when being interviewed for a certain mission's video. Requests to not mention at all that I am a pastor when being introduced at certain functions. The accusation that a significant church crisis was God's judgment on the church for having a female pastor. When seeking to process these wounds with other male colleagues, being told that I was making it all up. And the worst of it, to be accused of dishonouring the Father and His Word, when in truth I would die for love of Him. I need to be honest, even as the sharpness of each lessens, these wounds kind of wear on me after a while. If I'm not careful, they tend to pile up in my soul.

I've never mounted the soap box. And to the best of my knowledge, I've never pressed my own agenda. I only wanted to let God make me into all He had in mind when He created me. All of it. Fully surrendered. Here I am God, let's go as far as You say. I'm Yours. Isn't that what fully devoted followers of Christ are supposed to do?

At the beginning of that journey of surrender, I would not have considered it could take me into the realm of serving Him as a pastor. But it did. So here I am.

And that's why this Sunday seems like a marking moment somehow. One of the Church's brightest and best theologians will be at the church I now pastor to show why the Bible redemptively supports who I am and what I do. And I rejoice on behalf of my sister theologians, pastors and leaders as well, both those serving right now and those in the wings waiting.

And it seems so right and fresh and good and energetic and....healing.

And I am grateful. I am grateful for the woundings and sacrifices of Bill Webb and others who have taken more heat than I ever will, and do so courageously and with great grace. For what they've lost to stay true to what they are convinced of, I am profoundly sad, but deeply grateful.

And to a patient God who somehow makes His plans and purposes prevail in spite of what should not be, I am eternally and truly devoted.

Embracing the Disruption

It's weird to be home on a Wednesday.

Wasn't expecting this, really. When I was booked for a day surgery procedure, on a Tuesday, to blast away a nuisance kidney stone that had found a cozy little spot in one of my "tubes", I called the doctor's office to see what the recovery time might be. Return to work on Wednesday? No problem. Just don't do any heavy lifting.

However. At the hospital I was reminded that there's this little thing about not driving or being by yourself for 24 hours after anesthesia. Oh. And then, my body is telling me it needs to recover from all that "action" inside. Okay then!

So, here I am, at home, with my faithful hero Ken, both of us having had to rearrange our Wednesdays at the last minute.

And I find I'm quite okay with that.

That may seem obvious to most. But for us Type A, highly structured, I-have-my-week-all-laid-out-so-don't-mess-with-it individuals, this kind of disruption can wreck havoc on the soul. Normally this kind of hiccup in my week would send me on a rant, complaining how every time I try to lay out a schedule of balance and sanity, something comes up to seriously disrupt the plan. The nerve!

But maybe, just maybe, I'm growing in spirit. Because today, and throughout this entire episode with one nasty little beastie of a kidney stone, I find I am able to embrace the disruption. In fact, I am very, very grateful that I have not experienced the kind of pain that is often described for kidney stones, or for the procedure I've just had. I'm so glad for flexible and understanding colleagues who are willing to change their own well-laid out week, to accommodate me, and who express care and concern over any kind of annoyance this certainly brings them. I am over the top loving it that my husband Ken has willingly and without complaint stayed home to be with me - and OFFERED a quick Tim's run this morning! And how this disruption has actually provided us with a rare space of hours in a row to be quiet together in our family room with a fire on.

I am encouraged and affirmed by the prayers of family and friends. My Mom prayed over me on Sunday when we visited - such a blessing to be prayed over by a parent. And there are used-to-be orphans praying for me from half way around the world, which I still find astonishing. And, of course, the wonder of all the others in between who've emailed or texted or called just simply to say that they cared.

Isn't all of that a gift? Why wouldn't I embrace the gifts of this disruption?

I'm glad I'm growing, but a little sad too, for all the gifts I've missed before. I regret my previous tirades, endured by those around me. Sure, I want to be remembered as a diligent and faithful worker. But hopefully, from now on, I'll be able to make some new memories of a more gentler, less self-centered person.

Someone who can embrace disruptions with grace.

Catching My Breath Between God-Sightings

It's been a breath-taking two days.
Back to back to back.
Conversations, meetings, visits, introductions, sessions, confrontations, Scripture.
Seems like it started first thing Wednesday morning and just wouldn't quit, right up to just before supper tonight (Thursday).

God-sightings.

Funny. I remain convinced for some reason, that I actually do have control over how any given day will go. It's an illusion, I know, utilizing the mirrors of Outlook Calendar, my Blackberry and a weekly list of what needs to be done. Yet, in the last two days so much of that list has NOT been checked off.

Today especially.

Thought it might be a great day to hunker down into my office and pull off some much needed paperwork, emails, manuscripts, and other assorted concentration-intensive aspects of what I do.

But when I first woke up this morning, following an already surprising Wednesday, I realized what was actually unfolding for the day. Seemed like it was going to involve very little office time after all. So I decided to spare myself the frustration and enjoy what God had in mind instead. Probably sounds rather obvious to you, but for me, the way I'm wired, this is a mini, in-my-head kind of miracle.

I can't really give you the play by play of these past 48 hours. The Divine would get lost in the details. But the fact is, as I moved through these two days, He breathed into all of it, every nook and cranny with a redemptive activity that was nothing short of stunning.

Not a little part of all this was a visit from Asia's Hope's incredible National Director for Thailand, Tutu Bee and her delightful husband Dan. Their stories, both as individuals and as a couple, are full of God, full of compassion, full of freedom, full of hope. It's impossible to calculate the number of lives that have been rescued from despair and degradation because of the life and legacy of Tutu. It's impossible to imagine how much more God will do through them now as a couple, seeking to serve God on behalf of children in South East Asia. The time we spent together as a church was rich, warm, gut-inspiring. Then, for me, our meals together, sharing each other with each other, was like taking a long drink on a hot dry day. My spirit is so refreshed.

On top of Tutu and Dan's visit, I've also seen

• the strength of a soul surrendered to God's sovereignty in the face of death,

• been loved in the translated words of more than a dozen hand written letters,

• been affirmed by the prayers of brother-Elders,

• been awed by the synergy of spirit-led leadership development planning,

• and watched God (was that Him grinning?) bring impossible but very welcome elephants into the room.

I drove home at the end of it full of joy and wondering at the undeserved blessings of the One who lets me do this pastoring gig - especially the part where I get to tag along to watch Him do His thing.

Tonight, I just need to be quiet, catch my breath, and wonder what's He's up to for tomorrow.

A Simple Gratitude

It's been a quiet Thanksgiving in some ways, and that's been great. Yesterday, it was "just us" [minus one and I'm letting those longings be God's deal], with all three grandchildren and a walk in the maple bush right near our house. Loved it. Gentle, together, outside with the Creator....and my family.

Shouldn't be, really. So much would have been our undoing were it not for that same Creator creating in us room for each other, and forgiveness, and acceptance. I am grateful this Thanksgiving that I have been forgiven by my children for the inadequacies of my mothering, and that by now they still love me enough to want to take a Thanksgiving walk together. So grateful for that.

I am grateful for how that love is also the connecting wire to three (so far) stellar little human beings that mystically carry some of my DNA and totally carry my heart. My gratitude for that is unspeakable.

I am grateful for a husband who has walked walks with me for 33 years plus and still serves me in his willingness to match his stride to mine, both actually and metaphorically, as we follow what has at times been a very winding life-road.

I am grateful for the harshness that's come to us in different ways, meant to break us up, but somehow having been used to bind us tight. And the missing one too. In time. I know it, because of how He's proven Himself faithful.

Simply walking in a bush together on Thanksgiving.

Redemption Song

Today I celebrate all that has been redeemed for my friend BJ. Last month marked the miracle of her first year of sobriety.

What a gift to have journied with her these past 22 years, to see how strong love is and to know such loyalty and truth from such a friend!

Blessings and strength to you, dear heart. May you press onward into all the abundance that God still longs to give you.

Best Of Both

Ken and I have been able to sneak back up to the cottage for a completely "exta bonus" three days, finishing off August in Georgian Bay style. What a gift!

It's not a holiday, per se; both of us brought work with us, and have kept in touch with faithful cohorts at home via the wonders of modern technology.

Still, writing sermons (my main objective for these days) is so inspiring in the so-quiet of a cottage morning, where my concentration is broken only by an eager visit from the chipmunk looking for breakfast, or the loud splash of that huge bass that repeatedly shows off his tricks for me.

So. Best of both worlds. It's such a happy thing to be here again, starting my morning with a cup of tea on the deck. AND it's such a happy thing to be engaged in meaningful work with sensational people and to be looking forward to all that's coming this fall.

I feel so full of blessings these days. This is not in the absence of challenge and heartbreak, both my own and the people I serve and love. The stories of our lives intertwined include difficult chapters all along the way. But there's a deeper understanding of the promised endings of things, and as I meditate on those promises, I am more and more convinced that good prevails.

I can rest in that conviction....and look out over the water or open the door to my office - either way, starting my day in confident expectation. Because God's holiness shines brilliantly into souls and out beyond time and space.

And I get to muse on these things on the dock. Quiet happiness. Gentle joy. Here and home, both feeling like home.

Best of both.
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network

I Like to Be Right

I didn't know this before, but apparently there's a boy's side and a girl's side to the blue plastic teeter totter in our backyard. I was informed of this little known fact by my 5 year old granddaughter, Abby, this afternoon.

She and her brother Zachary were up and downing quite successfully - part of our wonderful hours outside on this perfect long weekend - when suddenly Abby stopped the action, feet planted firmly on either side of her end.

"Wait!" she said, "We're on the wrong sides!" She said this rather decidedly, and with a clear tone of this being something that required immediate rectifying. I tried to explain that there really were no "sides" to teeter totters, but she bent her small head around to check what turned out to be a label on the one side of the toy. "There! There's the girl side and there's the boy side."

Sure enough, there was the label, showing two children, one smiling girl, and one smiling boy. And yes, Abby and Zachary were on the "wrong sides.". Well then.

Since Zachary is just two and it takes a bit more effort for him to climb on and off the teeter totter, and since we had, after all, just got started, I suggested that it really didn't matter who sat on what side, and let's just stay the way we are. But Abby was insistent. Helping Zachary do the switch, she looked at me, and said matter-of-factly, but without any cheekiness or attitude, "I like to be right."

So you do, my dear. And you come by it quite honestly, I'm afraid. First born female of a first born female of a first born female. If that's not a recipe for perfectionist tendencies, I don't know what is. Good thing both her mother and her grandmother are well aware of the dangers of our shared temperament, and have committed ourselves to the lifelong pursuit of balance, loosening the ropes, and, every once in a while and on purpose, colouring outside of the lines. And even though I am far from getting this down pat, hopefully, as Abby's personality continues to show itself, she and I can keep on learning together how to function and thrive, in health and wholeness, in a far from perfect world.

Still.....I admit to an appropriate degree of delight in her statement. Yes! Oh Honey, I like to be right too! Feels good to live in order and clarity. There's joy in truth and strength in obedience - to the right things of course. When it comes together, and there's a straightness to the path, and a goodness to the action, and a godliness to the choice, in those moments it's supposed to feel deeply and passionately right, even when it might also be so very hard to do. It's paths of righteousness that the psalmist is so glad his Gentle Shepherd guides him along.

And while the abuses of perfectionism can be brutal, please, my dearest child, do not ever stop liking being 'right'. Not, of course, in the way that has to win every argument or pridefully thinks you have all the answers. That's something entirely different. But this joy in doing it properly....delight in it. Don't think you have to "fix" this desire to be right. It's who God created you to be. And He wants to use it for Him.

In my recent ponderings about self awareness and self care, I am embracing my perfectionism these days. Reintroducing it as a means by which I can reduce some of the stresses that tend to make me a less gentle person than I want to be. I know this may sound somewhat contradictory, but the truth is, if I am allowed the time and space to do things "right", the world gets a better me. And when I strive to "chill" or "let it go" too much, if I give way to the mess and disorder for too long, try to live in it as if it were the norm, even if I think I'm doing that to accommodate others, I end up being a much paler version of myself.

So, I'm liking this about me again. But the trick is - and here Abby has it - in order to do this, I have to stop the teeter totter, take the time, help those around me who need help so I don't just dump them in the grass, and get myself situated properly. From time to time I will have to plant my feet firmly on the ground, bring the action to a halt, and make things right. Spend some time sitting quietly beside some water. Write slowly in my journal, so my penmanship is pretty again. Stop talking, and just listen. Like that.

Does it matter what side of the teeter totter you're on?

It might.

The Gift I Gave Myself

Friday afternoon.

It's an unfamiliar familiarity after spending 5 weeks with no work-related schedules - no anything-related schedules - to give you any sense of the beginnings and endings of work weeks or the onset of ...ahhhh....the weekend.

But here I am. Friday afternoon of the first week back, and feeling almost the same as if I was still at the cottage. Well, no. Just sat outside for a bit with my journal and....well....even with my chair turned toward the farmer's field.....being as close as we are to the roundabout isn't ANYTHING like being on the deck. Especially when there's a fender bender and somebody really loses their temper. Hoooo!

Even so, it's this thing, this understanding or something, that I am ending off the first week back in as UNpressurized a state as I can remember ending a work week in......well, forever. And I'm pretty sure it's because of the gift I gave myself.

I had determined, when I still was on the deck, that this first week back I would do nothing but that which served my soul's need for order and clarity and respect. I respected myself this week. What that meant was that I had NO meetings. I did celebrate a friend's birthday. I did reconnect with another friend over coffee. And I enjoyed a breakfast with the Elders of Highview, just to be glad to be with them again and show them my tan as proof of the last 5 weeks of resting. But I held back on anything that would pull or push or clutter or twist or muddy....or put anything new on my list. Just this week.

And what a great gift that has been. Without rushing, I have cleaned out files, set up new binders, prayed over and researched sermons for dates far away. I have reordered books on shelves, read and journalled outside, and pondered my academic goals online. Without rushing...did I mention that?

At home I sat and watched small children play in the pool, read stories, purged my closet AND took it all away to the Salvation Army. I cleaned out some cluttered spaces and bought a new swim bag and watched TV. Had a lovely, long conversation with my remarkable daughter. Played a game of Super Scrabble with my ferociously competitive husband (who is also remarkable in many ways, just ferociously competitive). Ate ice cream. Yeah...like that.

And coming to the end of this week, I'm thinking, I ought to give myself this gift every once in a while. A no meeting week. A week devoted to only that which serves my soul's need for order and clarity and respect. Because, as insignificant as all that may sound (Boring!!!! as one of my friends complains loudly), it's exactly what I need to keep me grounded.

It certainly was a fabulous way to end my time of resting at the cottage and prepare for a more energized re-engagement in life. Which I am looking forward to, by the way......after the long holiday weekend :).

Hope your summer is providing LOTS of opportunities to respect your own soul, whatever that might look like.

Safe weekend, everyone.

Best For Last

I am out on the deck finishing up a supper of grilled chicken and tomato. Softly, Steve Bell's "On the Wings of an Eagle" plays into the breeze, and obligingly, as if to provide me with a real live multimedia show, an osprey floats on a current above. A chipmunk has joined me, curious to know if anything on my plate might suit his tastes. On the counter inside is about three cups of blueberries gathered this afternoon, and I'm trying to decide if I'll be taking them all home with me, or I'll sneak some for dessert tonight.

The sun keeps coming out from behind some rather dubious clouds, leaving vibrant streaks of late sun touching the tree tops across the channel, then shooting out across the top, back and forth like that.

That same breeze the osprey is floating on is delicious on my skin against the heat of this day. I breathe in slowly, deeply, and can feel the fresh oxygen rushing, it seems, to every gentle cell in my body. The stillness of my soul is profound.

I would say that all this is happening for me so vividly in these moments because they are among the last of my time here at the cottage this summer, and I am trying to grab as much of them as I can. Well....yes. But the truth is that all these moments register as vivid and wonderful the whole time I'm here - all of them. I am fully present in them all, grateful for their real time reality against the thousand thoughts of wishing for them all winter long. In some parts of me, I am most alive, most in touch with the me of me, when I am here.

And this last week has been the best of it. This does not mean that the weekend with my daughter and two of our grandkids wasn't sensational. It was! And Abby catching frogs, and Zachary's glee-intensity over the chipmunks were so much fun!

I also thoroughly enjoyed having our Staff Team up for those few days, and the truly memorable sunset baptism for Paula.

And I have to say that in 33 years of marriage, plus 5 summers coming to Georgian Bay before that, this year, the time Ken and I had alone? Beautiful!

But it seems that God has left the best for last. It hasn't really been until these past five days alone that I've been able to really hunker down and listen to all He had in mind to chat with me about. Five weeks, and it took until now to quiet down enough. But we did get to it, eventually.

First, I don't do conflict very well. Hardly news to most who know my passion for peace, and the mother-part of me that "just wants everyone to get along!". But this last week on my own, I've been able to listen, and see how this could be hindering some decision making processes and the team dynamics of the people I lead.

Second, my neglect of self care is becoming more of a threat to myself, my life's work, and all those I love and lead, as I get older. Hard fact, but there it is. I'm 54 and I just can't "do" as much dysfunction as I used to and get away with it. My sin of pushing too hard is producing increasingly damaging consequences for myself and others, and it needs to stop. And my pride has been blinding me to this.

Third, I've been worrying again, big time. Letting life's challenges threaten me, forgetting that I have an ENORMOUS God! The engery waste of this is criminal.

And lastly, (at least of the things I'm willing to blog about), I've been told to WAIT and LISTEN. Don't even really know exactly what that means yet. But everytime I would even begin to approach God with questions of direction and guidance, where the church, or my own minisrty needs to go from here, those two words would crowd right into my brain. They're all over my journal. WAIT. LISTEN.

So tomorrow I head home with all of that packed lovingly into my soul.

And tonight I sit on the deck,
resting in the vividness of it all,
revelling in God's breathy nearness.
And deeply, deeply grateful.
He's saved the best for last this year.
And I thank Him.

There are only two places on this planet for which my heart aches when I am not there.

This is one of them.
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Breathless

Breathless I am beside the water in the quiet so holy I barely know where I end and the everything of it begins.

Silent I am within the evening in the hot so still I barely can stand the sunset on my face it burns.

And then it's gone.
But not.
And the bullfrog breaks the spell, and a boat going by.

But for a moment there, I caught You, Holy Hush Almighty, and kept myself as still as I could.....

To let You fill me with it, again.
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Turtle Breaths

Her name is Tamu.

She's a snapping turtle, about 10 years old if I'm reading the nature books right. She's probably about the size of a large dinner plate across her shell, but I'm only guessing that by the size of her head.

Tamu hangs with me in the evenings, between the dock and the shoal. She's a shy gal, keeping her distance mostly. But I'm thinking that my reputation on the dock of being quiet and still is helping her trust me more. She's popping her head up just a little closer each time.

Tonight I can hear her breathing.

You know it's quiet when you can hear a turtle breathing.

When I'm here on the dock, I realize how noisy my life is at home. Not just the city stuff, but my soul. Sometimes there's so much going on, I'm not even sure I'm breathing, spiritually. I can't hear the breaths of my soul.

So I'm glad for Tamu, and for being so quiet and still on the dock. And how lovely to the ears of my soul are the breaths of a turtle.
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First Ripe Blueberry Sighted!!

Well, that just about decided what I'm doing for the rest of my holidays :)!!
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Heaven Too?

Hard to imagine a more perfect holiday weekend.

Despite brutal traffic on Friday, Kristyn and the kids arrived with smiles, eager for the boat ride that would blow all the driving and city tensions away. They must have brought summer with them, because the coolish temperatures we'd been having up here so far, surrendered to the sun's brilliance through an impossibly blue sky.

And it was summer all weekend. We even finally got in the water, although I admit, it was Abby who led that campaign. Such a cottage natural, that girl! She was in the water as much as possible, with an unfortunate problem -- how to keep from choking when you can't stop smiling and laughing just from the sheer joy of it.

Zachary loved the chipmunks, and was remarkably still and quiet, once he realized that a toddler's wild dance and shrieks of delight are somewhat counterproductive. Of course he was so happy to see his Grandad!! Especially because Grandad has really fun kinds of cereals and other breakfast treats that Mommy, who's getting a chance to sleep in, doesn't.

Loved having my daughter here. Wish it could be longer. Someday, maybe next year, it can be. And that way, after the kids are in bed, we can have even more games of Scrabble, and cups of tea, and long talks about deeply important things, and side clutching laughing fits about random, "you had to be there" silly things. And she would get the kind of holiday she so definitely deserves, but really hasn't been able to have for some time now.

The weather was still perfect Sunday morning, for the opening service of Cognashene Community Church, a hearty congregation of cottagers that have been meeting together for over 100 years. Well, us and our ancestors. I have the enormous privilege of leading the first service of each season; always a meaningful time, but this year there was an extra sense of God's Spirit. This was particularly felt as we met over in the Tranquility Garden to dedicate the plaques of four individuals who have left us since last year. The love and comfort that was so freely expressed to the grieving families was a beauty to match the place.

For the whole of it then, the canoe rides and birthday cake and frogs and "fishing" and BBQ meals and happy chaos of small children about....yes, a perfect weekend.

Except...Ken's vacation time is done, and he went home with the crew today. What a easy, joyful time we had together for our time alone this year. In 33 years of marriage there are certainly going to be times of stress and challenge and difficulty. This was not one of them. I started missing him the moment the boat disappeared down the channel.

So, a perfect weekend. Almost. The only better way it could be, a better way I am asking God for, in His time and His plan, is to have everyone, our whole family, here together at one time. It's a common desire of those of us with grown children and grandchildren. But it's a tall order for us. There are lots of hoops to jump through yet, and some significant changes required on various fronts. I'd say it was impossible even...if God wasn't involved. But He is, and I watch Him do impossible things, everyday. So, we'll see.

And now....I eagerly step into that holy place my Loving Shepherd has prepared for me. Solitude, for the next five days.

There's that saying, that exclamation of gratitude and amazement, do you know it? "All this, and Heaven too?!!!"

Yeah, that's me, right now.
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Ten Minutes Two Frogs

It is fabulous to have Kristyn and the kids up for Canada Day weekend! And Abby, true to her naturalist's heart, was on our little beach right away. With nothing but a plastic container and her bare hands, this five year old nature girl has caught two frogs! This talent she does NOT get from her Mother :).
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Safe

Tonight I am suddenly overwhelmed with the safety of this place.

For all of life's harshness, there is the piercing gentleness of the loon's sympathizing melancholy.

For all the rough waters, the storms you didn't see coming, there's the exquisite calm of the bay at sundown.

For all the crazy ways our crazy lives make for crazy-making hurry, there is here, by the water's edge, something holy -- time.

And it seems that it comes around me like a force field, a barrier, a castle's moat. Here, I am away and safe for long enough to rest and heal and find my soul again.
Not crushed.
Not in despair.
Not abandoned.
Not destroyed.

(2 Corinthians 4:7-10).

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Celebrating Abby

Dinosaurs and caterpillars.
Fairies and kitties.
Cuddles with Gramma on a Saturday morning, lazy.

Exquisite laughing.
Favourite pajamas.
Turning dandelion extractions into grand adventures.

A thousand kisses, like this...
Loving you all the way to the moon and never back!
Twirly dresses and favourite blue jeans.

Purple and pony tails and practicing ballet.
And making "Gramma's home!" such a trumpeted event.

Being all you all the time in that wonderful five year old way that nuances so vividly, so honestly, with a capacity to love that makes this older heart remember that that's what it's all about.

Keep imagining it, Sweetie, that sensational world you play in. Thank you for inviting me into it, to play with you, and love with you.
Keep imagining, and in all the ways that matter, as you grow and are unleashed to be all God created you to be, you will make the best parts of your five year old world come true for those He gives you to love and lead.

Happy Birthday Abby girl! What a gift you are to my heart.

Gramma
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Soon

Just a few more days of sunshine, with the odd shower thrown in. Yup, that oughta do it!
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Returning to Cottage Normal...Almost

It was a perfect day for putzing, rainy and cool. So Ken putz'd at the back with plumbing, and I putz'd at the front with construction clutter and random furniture placement. When we were done, the washing machine was ready for the next sunny day, and the main room was more habitable.

Caught two mice last night, saw a huge fish jump out of the water, had a nap....yup, starting to ease back into "cottage normal".

it is wonderful to have the most disruptive part of the bathroom project done. And even more wonderful to have been able to work through the cramped quarters and lack of facilities, with Colin and Cindy and Isaac and Allie, and have all of us keep our sense of humour, and realize that we can work well together even with all that.

Now Ken has the fire on and soon we'll start our evening game of Scrabble. Normal never felt so good.
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The Chaos Before The Serenity

Every cottage season has its work projects. That's just the nature of things when you've inherited vinatge property with "rustic" buildings that need attention.

And every once in a while the attention required is, um...... significant. Such as when you discover the supporting beams across the entire back of the structure have rotted away. And while there's joy in taking certain risks, the thought of the toilet crashing through the floor while one is seated upon it, isn't exactly the kind of adventure you hope to write about in the cottage log.

So this year, my arrival to this place of serenity has been somewhat chaotic. Outside walls have been ripped away, indoor amenities have been removed altogether, and six people are trying to work and live and fit into the same space as I normally have mostly all to myself.

Its all going really well. I guess if you can get along with relatives in a crowded, construction messy cottage, with no one having a shower in going on four days, having had to make extra trips into town, and hiking up the back hill to the biff...and you're still laughing and playing Scrabble and racking up points for how many mosquitoes you've squashed before bed...then that's probably the best kind of family to have.

Everyone's working very hard, contributing their bit and working as a team. Colin, Ken's nephew, has excellent skills for this kind of project and has basically taken the lead. Some of it is just simply brutal grunt work, like crawling down in very squishy places under the cottage. But it's coming together. Every once in a while, someone stops and says giddily, "It's happening! It's happening!!!"

So this is the chaos before the serenity. Making memories.
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Summer Sabbath Letter to One Sensational Church

June 19, 2011

Dear Cherished Friends,

Later this afternoon, I will get in the car with Ken,

and we will drive for about two and a half hours

until we get to a marina. Then we will load

everything into the boat and ride for another

half hour over the water until we get to a dock.

That dock is a holy place for me. And after we have unloaded and settled in, after we have had our first dinner together, looking out over the water, I will gather my Bible and my journal, and maybe a few jujubes, and head down to that holy dock.

One of the things I will do on that dock is talk with God about you. I guarantee it. Because in that quiet, mystic place, I always pour out my deepest longings, and bring to Him my most valuable treasures….and without question you are top on that list.

As we all head into our summer Sabbath, whatever the official start date of holidays, or wherever our times away may take us, I am praying special prayers of restoration and recharging for each of us. I am praying that all of us will have more time to just sit and be with God, to meditate on His goodness, and let the light of His righteousness shine deeper into our souls. Time for growing intimacy with God. And intimacy with God is essential for any follower of Jesus who wants to build their heart bigger for Him.

Whenever we can find ourselves together at Highview, and I do trust you will make every effort to do so every Sunday you are in town, we will be having our own “fun in the sun” by pulling together various parts of our Bible that talk about the sun, about sunshine, sunsets, light and brightness, by means of our summer series Here Comes the Sun.

I think this makes perfect sense. Not just because it’s summer and we normally see more of the sun over the summer months. But also because one of the Bible’s prevailing pictures of God is that He is light.

And as we make our way through these teachings, we’re going to find out more about this God of light, His power, His protection, His Sovereignty, and His holiness. Each Sunday that we are together, our study of different texts in the Bible – all dealing with sunshine and light – will help us learn more about the character of God. And to know Him is to love Him.

And while I am eager to get away and rest, spend time with my exceptional husband Ken, have grandchildren visit us, feed the chipmunks and gather blueberries, I find myself also excited about what is waiting for us next season. This is unusual, people. Normally round about now, I just want to make sure all the loose ends are tied up before I go. I don’t want to think about August and the next season until I get back.

But the significant and frequent acts of God I have seen first hand in just these last two months, and even more concentrated in these past three weeks, not to mention all that God has done over this entire past season, leads to me to believe that there is good work ahead. People to love, souls to journey with, hearts to build.

You are such a blessing to me! You are truly a Hebrews 13:17 kind of church. I love how you respond to God’s work in your lives, how you love each other, how you continue to press forward to all God’s called you to be, and all He’s called us to be as a church. I commend you for your faith,you’re your diligence, for your perseverance, for your faithfulness.

Thank you for being a church that I can’t wait to get back to,

for whom I will be praying earnestly,

thanking God for you on every remembrance,

as I sit in that quietness,

on that holy dock.

Honoured to be serving alongside of you,

Ruth Anne

Tied Up At The Dock

For the simplicity of it
The off loading and unplugging
The fierce gentleness of a space that asks nothing of you
Just gives

For blueberry therapy
And still water healing
And cool breezes restoring
And expansive sky reminding me of just how big You are

And the seagulls and jenny wrens and humming birds and redheaded woodpeckers
And the water snakes and snapping turtles and salamanders and toads
And the otter and the beaver and the red fox and, yes, the bear

For the boat
The ride
The wildness of Your Spirit over the waves
And then....

Tying up
Just like that
Simple and snug and so secure

Being quietly
With You
Who loves me.
You must,
To give me this gift
Over and again, summer by summer
Tied up at the dock
With You

RAB11

Psalm 113:3

From the rising of the sun
to the going down of the same
the name of the LORD is to be praised.

Gentle Father,
I can't wait
to revel in the glory of You
by sunrise
by sunset
and let it be
enough for me
to sit.

RAB11

Right Sizing

There's something about the expanse of sky and water together
that reminds of how perfectly sized I am.

Enormous enough to be the object of all my God can offer.

Small enough to be entirely not in control.

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!

How vast is the sum of them!
If I were to count them,
they would outnumber the grain of sand.
When I awake,
I am still with you.
Psalm 139:17-18

Out of My Own Backyard

Driving up the coastline toward Ft. Meyers for a short ride this morning, I couldn't help but think something.

Beautiful beach front homes lined the way; tall, elegant, extremely modern, with stunning views of the gulf. I roll down the window and shamelessly point my camera at the homes of strangers. I am so curious about whoever would live in such a place. What's it like to live like that? How do these people make their living? Who loves them? And I wonder who's around to make sure they know, that no matter who they are on the social scale, God is crazy about them, and has a meaningful, difference-making life in mind for them.

And I remembered visiting the Lahu village, north of Chiang Mai, and shamelessly pointing my camera at the home of a stranger. Simple, tidy, extremely ancient, with a spectacular view of the hills. I am so curious about whoever would live in such a place. What's it like to live like that? Who loves them? How do these people make their living? And I wonder who's around to make sure they know, that no matter who they are on the social scale, God is crazy about them, and has a meaningful difference-making life in mind for them.

And I'm thinking all of a sudden about all the houses going up along Ira Needles Boulevard, back home; the houses I pray for every day as I drive to the church; the ones with no particular view really. I am wondering who will live there, how will they make their living, who loves them? But I don't have to wonder who's around to make sure they know, that no matter who they are on any social scale, God is crazy about them and has a meaningful difference-making life in mind for them.

Because as far away as God sometimes takes me.....this is my own backyard.

The Unexpected Pause

Since it's so hard to get me to sit down, it's notable that I've been sitting for most of the afternoon. Stretched out on a lounger, screened in porch, ceiling fans on slow, a drink with ice chinking in it - that kind of sitting.

Ken and I are the grateful guests of a generous couple at Highview who have provided their Florida condo to us this week as a gift. We're looking over a few acres of wet lands, all the comforts of home (actually more :), and yet feeling more like we're away from it all, just that closer to creation, everglades style. Started the day doing laps in an amazing pool, ate too much for brunch, picked up a few groceries, napped, and came out here to the porch. And that about sums up the day.

As I breathe in the resting of it, I realize how open my soul is to the idea. Surprisingly. The beginning of May is not a normal time for me to take a break, with summer down time so close. And this year I've just been away, in March, not for a holiday, but a definite change/break from the normal demands of my life, for sure. This little holiday was not necessarily in the original plans for this season, but instead was kindly offered to me. Often I would resist, make excuses about why I just couldn't leave all my responsibilities. But I didn't. So to get here and be so ready to do this, not to be worrying about stuff at home, to just be enjoying the quiet presence of my husband, all day....it's ..... nice. A gift.

It's been my experience that when God provides these unexpected pauses, He does so for a reason. I'm paying attention.

Oh, and Ken has just brought me a cup of Skittles. Wonderful!

Tomorrow the beach. Wednesday a ball game. Who knows about the rest of the week? Doesn't really matter. I'm just....pausing.