An Awesome Works and Great Deeds Story

Great is the LORD and most worthy of praise;

His greatness no one can fathom.

One generation commends Your works to another;

they tell of Your mighty acts.

They speak of the glorious splendor of Your majesty

-- and I will meditate on Your wonderful work.

They tell of the power of Your awesome works --

and I will proclaim Your great deeds.

Psalm 145:3-5

 

Woke up particularly grateful, energetic, and full of joy this morning.  As I was telling God all about it, and thanking Him, and even singing a little (all by myself), Psalm 145 came to mind, and I realized it is due time to 'bear testimony.'

This first week of June marks one year since the onset of some health issues that, while not entirely debilitating, have been painful and unsettling and have robbed me of my usual energies.  The problem has been with my gut, and the specific diagnosis has been diverticulitis, the details of which I shall spare you, you're welcome.  

Between May and December of 2025 I had three flare ups.  Each flare up requires a regimen of diet, medication and rest, and takes a full six weeks to recover from.  If I do the math, that's four and a half months out of the seven I was truly not myself.  Adding to the time line was a scheduled test that didn't happen until February that was in itself difficult enough to require another month of recovery.

Severe abdominal pain, persistent lack of sleep, side effects from one of the medications, and the inability to properly absorb nutrients resulted for me in a kind of fatigue and overall weakness I don't think I've experienced before.  Concentration was at a minimum many days. I felt unsafe to drive myself anywhere.  And often as not, by 10:30 in the morning I had to entertain the notion of laying down for my 'first of two or three' naps of the day.   Friends, this is just not me.

But here's where the 'awesome works' come in.

Over the past year I have also been able to:

• receive timely and attentive care from my family doctor.
• get all the medications I needed when I needed them.
• feel the tender Presence of God through some long, painful nights.
• be reminded why I memorized all those Bible verses over my lifetime.
• travel to Thailand twice during which time I was entirely asymptomatic.
• participate meaningfully in Advent and Christmas celebrations.
• participate meaningfully in Lent and Easter celebrations.
• be reminded by diet restrictions that celebrations don't have to revolve around the meal.
• spend our normal time at the cottage last summer without any health interruptions.
• fulfill all teaching and preaching assignments without health interruptions.
• have energy and concentration for a number of 'extra' leadership responsibilities.
• continue, in an adapted work rhythm, all my normal responsibilities.
• keep all promises of sleepovers and special times with grandchildren.
• figure out my diet and nutrition in ways that seem to be helpful, and are working.
• be reminded again of the patient, supportive man that is my husband.

And by now, by today, I realize that I have just pressed through almost two weeks of a demanding schedule and it has not provoked a new flare up.  That means I am now close to six months without a new episode.  That's huge all by itself.

Thank you LORD!

I am overwhelmed by Your goodness to me!

This I proclaim and bear witness to.

Of course I will continue in the news ways of diet and rest and adapted work rhythms that sustain good health overall.  Of course I am mindful that the underlying issues with my gut still need my attention, and may or may not cause problems in the future.

But today, 

this day,

this day of morning sun 

and good, good things to be doing and being

I just had to stop and say something.

Happy Wednesday to you, no matter where you are in any particular journey.

If these are difficult days, I pray for your endurance, and for hope for better days ahead.

Like the Morning Sun

 

The path of the righteous is like the morning sun,

shining ever brighter till the full light of day.

Proverbs 4:18

Got out nice and early this morning, after a good night's sleep.  Love it when the day starts that way, all quiet and incremental.

The sun knows what it's doing and where it's going, with intentionality and brilliance, but it is in no hurry.   And along the way, some later lilacs are just arriving to the spring party, and a very small rabbit says hello...

while the moon makes a quiet, understated exit way on the other side of the sky.  Slowly.

Nobody's rushing yet, not this early.  And it reminds me.  Oh yeah.

He who began a good work in you

will carry it on to completion 

until the day of Christ Jesus.

Philippians 1:6

I don't need to rush either.

This process of being formed into the likeness of Christ takes its own time.

Like the morning sun heading towards noon.

Just a little at a time.

In the mornings I remember this.  

And then after my walk, I will head back to my desk and, yes, press into the work before me.  I will interact in simple ordinary ways with my husband, and family, and friends, and colleagues with varying degrees of intensity and engagement, as required.  I will check things off a list, and give space for reflection, and make a meal at the end of the day.  I will water the plants and refill the bird feeders and refresh the birdbath.  All in good time.  And it will all be a part of it.  

And maybe today I will be just a little more patient, or a little less inclined to worry, or a little more grateful, or a little less determined to get my own way.  Perhaps I will see growth in my ability to trust in the midst of unknowing.  Maybe a new insight from Scripture will make its way deeper into my soul, with intentionality and brilliance.  Maybe I will love a little better.

All in good time.  

And we all, who with unveiled faces 

contemplate the Lord's glory, 

are being transformed into his image 

with ever-increasing glory, 

which comes from the Lord, 

who is the Spirit.

2 Corinthians 3:18

June and Soft Beginnings

 

It's a quieter step into June this morning.

The past thirteen days since the Victoria Day Weekend have been something of an all out sprint, pressing from one big thing to another, with days of meetings, preparation, packing and unpacking slipped into the betweens. 

Time to stop all that good and honorable nonsense.

I flip over the calendar and welcome the new month with a soft sigh. 

Today, this first day of June, if I get to the end of it feeling more rested and clear headed -- that will have been a satisfying and successful day.  And even now, over the next few days in this first week of June, I'm keeping the volume on low in keeping with the obedient, rather relaxed expectations I have of myself for right now.

June.

And then there's the thing about June holding so much remembering.  Just in this first week, these first few days of it, there is the marking of five beloveds who left us.  Years have past but their absence remains.  And it gathers like a misty aching that I need to leave room for.

Then, my birthday.  This one is 69, and I'm amazed.  How did I get here so fast?  And how is it that life continues so abundantly upward, despite the rather persistent covert messaging of it all being downhill from here?  Not for me.  Not at all.  Steady on we go.

So much gratitude.  What a gift it is to step softly into this particular June.  Sunlight early, because it's June.  Lilacs, because it's June. Birds at the birdbath, because it's June.  Space to be, because...it's June.

Happy new month day to you.

If you share a June birthday, happy anticipation of cake to you.

If you need to pause and rest a bit, hope it can happen for you soon.

If you are grieving and remembering, I'm with you.

   

And Then Maybe Blueberries

 

This is just a quick post to check in mid point in a two week high-gear press of goings on.

After a deliberately calmer March and April, May has proven to be the catch all month, with these last two weeks particularly packed.  Can't complain.  Love everything I'm doing.  Just hope I can keep up with myself.

Part of the 'all things' was opening the cottage over the weekend, with the help of our strapping younger family members who love the place enough with us to wrestle with the plumbing.  It was rainy and cold, but we cozied up by the fire, got almost everything up and running, and enjoyed one of the best games of Rummoli I can remember!  

Also, there are a LOT of blueberry blossoms over on the other property in a patch I don't remember being so productive in the past.  If things stay wet enough....it's looking pretty good so far.

Okay, that's all I've got for right now.  Except maybe for this shot of a blue jay having breakfast.

And no pictures but, it is crazy that I love it when the chipmunks remember me?  No coaxing necessary.  Took a peanut from my hand first thing.  

So I will fully embrace the robust energy of this coming week....and eagerly anticipate what's in store for this summer by the water.  

Happy Tuesday, wherever you are.

Morning Stroll Through the Psalms

 

This is the perfect time of year for a sunrise walk.  

I can get out there and get back and still start my day in good time.  In a little bit, say, closer to the end of June, the sunrise will happen a bit too early, even for me.  Although...I am so looking forward to getting out in the kayak on that flat misty water that mostly only happens at the crack of dawn.

Meanwhile and either way, I remain that annoying person who is most alert, awake and alive as the day begins.  It's fresh and full of potential out there!  And of course, with the heat we've been having these past few days, it really is the best time to do any form of activity.

I think by now I have approximately a bazillion pictures of sunrises.  Here's one from this morning.  It begged a Bible verse to go with, so I started looking.  Just in Psalms for now.  And here's what I came up with, all of them singing praises in the morning.  Perhaps David and the other psalmists were morning folks too?

Interestingly enough, I've listed them in order, and it's the last one, Psalm 143:8, that seems to caption this picture best.  But I'll just leave them all here and let you decide.

However and whenever your day begins, hope it's a great one.

In the morning, LORD, You hear my voice;

in the morning I lay my requests before You

and wait expectantly.

Psalm 5:3

Weeping may stay for the night,

but rejoicing comes in the morning.

Psalm 30:5

Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love,

that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.

Psalm 90:14

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,

for I have put my trust in you.

Show me the way I should go,

for to you I entrust my life.

Psalm 143:8

When Grace Lets It Grow

 

In the spirit of using what you already have at hand, our son has set up a good-sized garden plot to the side of our yard by the fence, using sections of one of the trees we lost in constructing our new little house.

This is where a garden existed in the pre-construction era of the property.  And, to happily remind us of that, the rhubarb made its way up through the straw bed to help get things started.  

Nothing else has been planted quite yet, what with all the frost warnings still lingering about this May. But soon.  Maybe this coming weekend.

What I'm loving about the look of it, though, is how David, like I said, has taken sections of one of the trees we had to chop down to becomes the walls of the garden box, as it were.  

Even before any seedlings are planted, it's got a solidly organic vibe to it, all rustic and natural looking.  And while there's still random yard waste to clear away, and decisions to make about other corners, the overall look of this back/side yard space we share is more and more a reflection of the easy, give-and-take, live-and-let-live culture of our intergenerational living arrangement.  

Last year we were able to install the second shed, and had flagstones placed around the fire pit making pathways between everything.  Harvest's comment was that it looked like we were building a little village back here.  I like that.

This is the second spring season for us here.  So it's fun to see the morphing of ideas and effort and creativity in using what we have on hand, and the different skills, and passions, and resources we bring, as we build our lives together in this space.  

And it's deeply satisfying.  And not a little surprising.

Our family's story is complex, and, if you know it, you know that a lot of grace has been granted to us to make this work. So many answers to so many prayers are spread out around this yard.  Having just come through another Mother's Day and its usual ordeal of all the self-evaluative reflections, I am ever so grateful we are who we are, and that we still get to grow together.  I know I don't deserve this.

I should make it clear; the garden is all David.  One of the values we are owning here is that we make way for those who know what they're doing.  Hence, I am staying well away from the vegetables.  I'll stick to making our little front porch pretty.  And there are more plans underway for the space directly behind the house, which includes the original shed.  Of course, there's the ramp to build along the side of the porch up to our main door.  

Lots to look forward to.

Lots to grow into.

Under an Iffy Sky

 

It's a 2 km walking route I'm doing these days, along one of the many paved trails that crisscross through our neighbourhood.  Takes me about 20 to 25 minutes.  There's a little creek that runs parallel for some of it, and then a wooded area.  This time of year there are various blooms showing up along the way.  Based on the weather, and especially if I'm dressed for it, the walk itself is quite pleasant.

But here's the deal.  I really don't care to get rained on.  That's why I'm always checking my weather aps; one on my phone and a different one on my computer.  That, and the sky itself.  

Most days it's an easy decision.  It's either dry enough and likely will be for the next half hour, or it's not.  I can tell.  I'm going out for my walk, or I'm not.  I can tell.

But the other day it was on again, off again, and hard to know.  My two aps were giving different information.  And the sky itself wasn't helping.  Really dark clouds, but with sudden and brief bright sunny intervals.  I'm usually fairly decisive, don't like to waste time dilly-dallying about things.  Yet the simple decision as to whether or not I would go for my walk plagued me for most of the afternoon.  

For most of us, decisions are easy to make when the data is clear.  Even when there's a lot at stake, when the outcomes are reasonably controllable, we usually go ahead and make that big purchase, accept that job offer, head off to further our education, or marry that person we're so drawn to.

And of course, it's preferred and considered wise to muse over all the data ahead of time.  As much as we can in any given situation.  We want to close the gap between what we know and what we don't know before deciding to move ahead.  And when we can, we should do just that.  No faith required, really.  Just weighing the data points and using common sense.

But sometimes we can't see the way ahead so clearly.

Sometimes we are pressed into moving forward way before we feel we have any control on the outcomes at all.  It's like we are out under an iffy sky, with no way of knowing for sure if we'll get drenched. 

Or, as Isaiah describes it, we're out walking in the dark.

Who among you fears the LORD and obeys the word of His servant?  

Let the one who walks in the dark, who has no light, 

trust in the name of the LORD and rely on their God.

That's from Isaiah 50:10.  And this first part I like well enough.  Sounds so reassuring to have God right there, guiding me along when the way isn't clear.  It's the next bit, though, that reads a bit rough for me.  Verse 11 goes on to say:

But now, all you who light fires and provide yourselves with flaming torches, 
go, walk in the light of your fires and of the torches you have set ablaze.  

This is what you shall receive from my hand; you will lie down in torment.

Wait, what?  Such harsh consequences, natural or logical either way, just for finding a flashlight so you can make your way in the dark?  

In context here, and in keeping with the poetic nature of Isaiah's prophecy as a whole, we can't miss how these two images are purposefully put in contrast to one another.  The one idea is that we make our way in the dark by trusting in God's reputation.  That's what trusting 'in the name of' means.  Also, when we see LORD capitalized like that it's an indication that in the original Hebrew the name being used was Yahweh, the One and Only God every Hebrew person gave their exclusive allegiance to.  This is Who they were to rely on.

By contrast, there are those who try to take control of the situation by their own means.  By lighting torches, in this poetic imagery.  Finding their own solutions, taking matters into their own hands, indicating a profound lack of trust in God, in Yahweh, to take care of things.

Poetic prophesy being all that it is, I do not for a minute believe God wants us to forego reasonable wisdom gathering when we have decisions ahead of us.  There's too much elsewhere in Scripture that talks about counting the cost, and thinking things through, and seeking advice, and the like.  

But I do think we are prone to lighting our own torches.  Well maybe it's just me.  When the pressure is on and the way ahead is dark, I feel the impulse to take matters into my own hands, and move ahead based on how it all fits inside my own little head.

Lighting my own torch might look like;

• Failing to stop and listen and pray
• Rushing ahead without clear guidance from Scripture
• Getting all flustered and anxious and pushy for somebody to 'do something!'
• Landing on one solitary 'solution' and getting so fixated on it that I don't listen to other options
• Acting outside of my proven circle of counsellors 
• Forgetting to hold myself accountable to the appropriate parties
• Thinking all the solutions and all the outcomes begin and end with me
• Believing I'm the only one who knows what we all should be doing
• Forgetting Who it is that's actually in control

I'm not quite sure what torment Isaiah is thinking they'd like down in, but I do know that trying to light my own torches can lead to a whole string of long and tortuous sleepless nights.

That iffy-sky day, I didn't end up getting rained on.  And if I had, it certainly wouldn't have been all that disastrous.  But the back and forth of it brought to mind other ways I feel like I'm walking in the dark right now, not being able to see the path before me clearly at all.  Mostly, I'm thinking of the way ahead for some big ministry plans to build our very badly needed new facility for all those amazing kids in Thailand, and how the global fuel crisis has laid heavily on those plans.  And other stuff where I can't really see the way ahead.

And so.

Yahweh...lead on.  

In the dark, under an iffy sky.  

I will let You hold on to me 

and take me where we're going.