Bran Muffins and Listening to Lent

 

With a crazy busy weekend ahead of me, it's good to stop for a moment at the beginning of this Friday, and just eat my bran muffin.

Later we'll venture out a bit, to run a few errands, and also to stop in at the church for some day-before-a-big-event tasks.  

The big event is, of course, Highview's Haiti Dinner and Silent Auction raising funds for our dear Seniors who live at a place called Auberge des Vieillards (Resort for the Elderly) in Pignon, Haiti.

Plus on Sunday we'll be sharing a report on all things Haiti in the morning at Highview.  So exciting to know that good and beautiful things are happening in surprising ways in surprising places.  

AND I am definitely booked for a nap Sunday afternoon.  And pacing myself today, like I've been trying to do all week.

Next week begins a different kind of space for me, I think.  A span of time where all the big things are done for a bit, and I can focus on ... well, I'm waiting to see exactly what I will be led to focus on.  While there are important matters to tend to, projects to move forward on, promises to keep, due dates to keep in mind -- always will be no doubt -- I am feeling a nudge to pull in a little....and listen to Lent.

For health reasons, I have had to pay extra attention to different ways I need to be nourishing my body of late.  Hence the bran muffin.  And now, I am thinking, I'm wondering, what I am being encouraged to do differently in the nourishment of my soul.

"When I discovered Your words, I devoured them.  

They are my joy and my heart's delight."

Jeremiah 15:16

Push and Pull

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts,

since as members of one body you were called to peace.

And be thankful.

Colossians 3:15

Since Monday was a holiday, today feels like the fresh start of the week.  And looking ahead at this week's list and then beyond, I realize that this will be the last push in what has felt like a steady-with-varying-degrees-of-intensity five month stretch.  

It surprised me, just yesterday when I noticed it while Ken and I did a 'calendar meeting.'  An honest assessment of my schedule would reveal that it has been pretty much non-stop from one thing to another since we closed the cottage at the end of September and stepped back into what I call our 'city life.'  Even with work-rest balances in place, and given the fact that I truly do press into work with joy, it's just been a reality that I have been in the thick of things pretty much consistently for quite some time.

After this week I have no trips to prepare for, no big seasonal expectations in either my ministry or personal life, no sermons on tap this spring, no major fundraising or other events on the calendar as yet.  Even with what is on the calendar, and there are some happy things I'm looking forward to for sure, most of the prep work is well in hand, and, well, it just won't require the same number of meetings, or the same kind of mental focus.  Not for the next little while at least.  Between now and Easter, more or less.  Hmmm....

Should I post such a thing?  Freer schedules have the habit of inviting random invitations as to how to fill up the space.  I will resist.  Mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually....I must.  In these quiet moments before this 'last week of push' begins, I am sensing a 'pull' towards peaceful protection.  Towards something important and bigger, but not louder.

Paul makes a plea to the Colossian Church to let our hearts be 'ruled by the peace of Christ.'  Because we are not called to press and push and produce, but to peace.  And to be thankful.

Lent is upon us.  Starts tomorrow.  I didn't plan it this way.  But perhaps...?

And in this moment, a hush.  And a quiet curiosity to see where this might take me.

Family Day Feels

 

I'll just say to begin, that I have long thought we needed a stat holiday between Christmas and Easter to help break up the winter.  Well, in Ontario (and also BC, Alberta, Saskatchewan and New Brunswick at least), here we are!  And how great is it that things have turned a little milder so that we might dare to venture outside for a bit.

But beyond the seasonal pick me up a holiday Monday affords, what a great idea to have a day set aside to celebrate Family.

There's a caveat, of course.  "Family" can be defined in so many ways, which I think is good and proper.  For some, families of origin hold things that often we do not care to celebrate, but rather have had to overcome.  For others, a sense of blood/DNA connection is lacking due to a wide variety of circumstances, some for which we are responsible, and some for which we are not.

We humans, being the creatures that we are, often find ourselves at odds somehow with our deepest desires to be heard, known and loved in a place of safety and unconditional positive regard.  Relationships are complicated, and, well, it's just hard to get along sometimes.  Unfortunately, some 'differences' end up being alienating, or even of the toxic sort requiring decisive measures if we are to survive.

So yes, "Family" can conjure up less that all the warm feelings we might hope it would.

And.

I have observed in my own life, and in the lives of many I have had the joy to journey with, that we are often gifted with community in ways that become 'Family' far beyond what life might otherwise have tried to rob us of.  It's as if a God of redemptive arch stories knows that we do indeed need to be heard, known and loved, and also to hear, know and love the other.

Psalm 68:6 has this uplifting phrase, "God sets the lonely in families."

Love that.

And so, on this Family Day 2026, that's both the testimony I bear for my own complex and family-rich story, and also my hope for all of you.  And however else you may be marking this mid-winter stat holiday, I trust you will be able to fully embrace, reach out, be welcomed into all that is Family for you.

Both Sides of the Sun - A Valentine's Story

 

To love and be loved

is to feel the sun from both sides.

David Viscott

So many Valentine's ago now, when my children were small, I decided to write them a love letter to celebrate the day.  Before this, we had made or bought little cards with hilarious or cheesy declarations of love, likely with characters familiar from cartoons or other animated movies.

This year I handed each of my children a white, letter-sized envelope with their name in fancy lettering and a heart on the front.  Yes, there was chocolate to go with.

Kristyn received it eagerly, reading my letter and giving me a lovely hug at the end, before digging into her treat.

David's response surprised me.  He looked confused at first, then crossed his arms and outright refused to accept the envelope.  "That's not a Balentine!" he insisted.  And when I tried to coax him, he cried.  It took a while, maybe half an hour of gentle explanation, plus the bribe of eating the chocolate first, before I could convince him to let me read the letter to him.

As I did, he softened.  And when I was done, he smiled and said, "Mommy, at first it didn't look like a Balentine.  But when you read it to me it felt like a Balentine."  Big hug then.

A few thoughts on love from this.

One.  Loving intentions don't always land well. 

Two.  Careful explanation and attentive listening are required to really be able to speak and hear love.

Three.  How things feel to the other person matter.  

Four.  Chocolate covers a multitude of love fumbles.

And if I could stretch one more thought out of this and perhaps other fun family Valentine stories, it would be to repeat and reinforce once again that love is not just for couples.  How ridiculous.  If you're not in a couple it does not mean you are not engaged in loving exchange; both to love and be loved.

And if you are in a couple, but love is lacking, same.  In both scenarios, a broader focus allows more love into our lives.

Just a word here to express my most profound joy and gratitude in all the love I feel is so undeservedly poured out and overflowing into my life.  Often - and days like this bring it forward - I sit in wonder at how I could ever be this rich!

So.

Today I pray that you would feel the sun from both sides.

And I wish you chocolate.

When Fri-Yay Fizzles a Bit

Friday's Happy Breakfast

Cao Tom

Fair warning, I'm going to gripe a tad here this morning.  Because, well, it's just not been that great of a week.

First week back from any trip has some challenges, so there's that.  Jet lag has been for me particularly gnarly this time out.  Not sure why, but sometimes I manage better than other times.  

And I'm used to coming back from 'perfect' weather to winter, but this year?  Wow, that's a cold blast in the face!  I know, all of you who have been living through all of January in this, I feel you.  I think I'm just here complaining about the contrast.  

And then there's the layers.  Not of clothing, but yes that too.  But in the physicality of it.  Jet lag, layered on the cold, layered on a medical test that required three days of prep, and then proved to be more uncomfortable than a colonoscopy.  True.  I'd take a colonoscopy (I've had two in my life now) over what was done to me yesterday, any day.  

And then, there's the news out of Tumbler Ridge.  Weighs heavy.  And that's all I will say about that.

Another contrast - and I've talked about this before, and I'll say up front we all need the humility - is what's called 'status inconsistency.'  That's a term missiologists use when considering the missionary life of Paul, and the wide range of status he either enjoyed or endured, depending on the circumstances and cultures in which he was serving.  Everything from being taken out and being stoned and left for dead by the highly religious folks, to being venerated and mistaken for a god by some pagan but decidedly more generous folks.  

And while nobody, but nobody ever has mistaken me for a god, anywhere on the planet and certainly not in Thailand, and I would never, ever want such a thing, there is an unmistakable comparison between the respect-based Asian way of life, and what feels like a free-for-all sport of criticizing our leaders in Western culture.  I got me some of that this week.  Still sorting it out, trying to discern how much was constructive criticism which I welcome and can learn from, and how much was just unnecessary, the process of which requires emotional energy in itself.  

So I get to this Friday sleep disturbed with an unsettled gut and a slightly discouraged ego, trying to pace out what will be two demanding weekends in a row.

Well, yay.

Why tell you any of this?  I guess because I want to be real.  And yes, I'm going to end this on the positive spin, because I believe that's essential in nurturing good mental heath.  But first, just, yeah, I've not had the best week.  I acknowledge that.

And now, the gratitudes.

Because...there really are so many.

A warm house and an oh so comfortable bed to carry me through the wakeful times.

Excellent medical attention and professional care, even for the more difficult tests.

A son who's willing to come fetch me home since I'm not allowed to drive for a few hours.

Good news about a friend's significant surgery (and what do I have to complain about anyways?).

Two important Sundays, and the important communications they represent, are falling into place.

A positive, on track meeting for our big Haiti event on Saturday, February 21st.

A surprise 'extra' donation where very needed.

The flexibility to lay down in the afternoon when jet lag had you up and working for a good part of the night.

A calendar meeting that revealed a more doable schedule for March, quite possibly.

A husband who listens to my gripe and asks, "What do you need from me today?"

A bowl of Cao Tom with the proper sauce and dried garlic garnish (from Yupa's kitchen).

The tender comforting and reassuring Presence of a Shepherd who carries me in the meditations of the 23rd Psalm.  

Fri-yay may fizzle, but in truth, my cup does run over.  Truly.

Back on this Side of the Far Side

 

Where can I go from Your Spirit?

Where can I flee from Your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, You are there;

if I make my bed in the depths, You are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there Your right hand will hold me fast."

Psalm 139:7-10

Navigating that now very familiar territory of the 'in between' this morning, when jet lag is fresh and my soul hasn't quite yet caught up with my body.

I used to find it distressing.  But by now, having done this back and forth thing so many times I've literally lost count, I am more at ease in this gentle fog, and less likely to expect much more from myself than a slow unpacking, and not just of the suitcases.

If home is where the heart is, then I am blessed with expansive definitions.  It's become an astonishing gift of this era of my life that I travel so freely between them - my homes that is - and that my heart rests easily on either side of  'the far side of the sea.'  Rests easily....well.  Not really.  Because the bitter-sweet edge of that astonishing gift is that, no matter where I am, I am not with someones I long for.

Good thing for this gently foggy space, to feel it and own it and be welcomed back into the love here.

Gotta' get some groceries this morning, before all that blowing snow blows in.

Thank you to everyone who offered their support and prayers and encouragements to both Ken and I for this important visit to Hot Springs.  We felt it, every step of the way.

True Stories and Soft Ironies

 

I told the story again the other night.

The story of being challenged by a missionary speaker from Southeast Asia who came to our church when I was only eleven years old.  In that part of the story, the missionary said that in Southeast Asia it was so hot and then it got hotter and then it just got rainy and hotter together.  He said the food was so spicy you could hardly eat it.  He said there were spiders and snakes that could kill you or eat you or both.  He said the language was incredibly difficult to learn with tones and so many ways you could say something really, really wrong.  And then he asked, "Who wants to come?"

And I heard in my head what I believed to be the voice of God saying, "You.  I want you to go."

We walked to the front of the church in those days, when we wanted to make something certain in our hearts.  And I did that, that night.  And from then on, when folks asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said, "a missionary to Southeast Asia."  How exotic.  But really, I was convinced I was just following the direction of God for my life.

And it was all fine and good for a few years, until I met a boy.  And suddenly some realities kicked in.  Choosing a missionary life could very well mean choosing a single life.  And even though this boy and I had just started to hang out, I kind of liked hanging out, and kind of liked the idea that one day I'd hang out kind of permanently with someone.  And that poked a hole in my romantic notion of being a missionary in some exotic place.  And pressed up in painful ways against what I had thought had been so clear.

So I told my pastor, and he was amazing.  He said that I should just let God know how I was feeling about the whole deal and see what happened.  Which is what I did.  For the next six months straight I poured all my teenage angst into seriously angsty prayers.  Back then we called it 'wrestling with God in my spirit.' which is totally what it felt like.  And the whole time it was crickets from heaven.  Nothing.  Nada.  No words in my head at all.  No writing on the wall, which would have freaked me out to be honest, but would have been better than being ignored.  

Well fine, then, be like that.  All clear and directive when the missionary was there, but only stony silence now, me just pouring out my soul on my bed every night.

And finally I'd had enough.  And I just said, "Okay God.  I'll go where you want me to go.  No matter what."  And I meant it.  I did.  And in that moment of release, what I thought I heard was, "Okay.  Now just wait."

We can't really go into it all right now because that would literally be the whole story of my whole life.  how it all unfolded in due time.  Forty years to be precise, before I actually got to Southeast Asia.  

But here's the thing that dawned on me as I was telling the story again to the kids the other night.

Ken, who was that boyfriend if you didn't know, was with me in the room, here in Southeast Asia, as I'm telling this story.  See what God did there?  Ken is here.  In the end, I didn't have to leave behind what I was so afraid to give up.  In fact, he's here and every bit part of this missionary work as I am.

To be clear, this living for Jesus thing does indeed require sacrifice.  It's kind of what Jesus is all about when it comes down to it; love and sacrifice.  So I'm not saying that there's some kind of magic in surrendering everything, and now God has to do the "psyche!" thing and give you what you were willing to give up.  Sometimes you just give something up and that's it.  And there's been a lot of that in my story as well.

But as I'm telling the story, I glance over at Ken, and the softness of the irony hits me.  

Who knew?

Well, yes, God.  God knew.  

Have I mentioned how much I love it when it works out for Ken to come along to Thailand with me?

Only three days left.  It's been a fabulous time.