Patterns

 

Listen, my son (or daughter) to your father's instruction

and do not forsake your mother's teaching.

They are a garland to grace your head

and a chain to adorn your neck.

Proverbs 1:8-9

A saw horse is a handy thing up here, given how much of our own firewood we glean from naturally fallen trees on the property.  Not to mention dock building, and other repairs, and upgrades that require some carpentry.

We've had one or two up here since before I can remember.  Ken says his Dad built them back in the day.  One has fallen apart long ago, and the other was not looking so good either.  So, using left over new lumber from building the bunkie, Ken followed the same basic pattern as his Dad's sawhorse and built a new one.  Not exactly the same, but pretty close, just with new material.

Makes sense to use the same basic pattern.  The old one was sturdy and served the family well for probably close to 80 years now.  The structure and design were obviously solid.  We'll engrave 2026 on this one and see how long it lasts.  Or at least, our grandchildren will.

It strikes me that this is basically what parenting is.  Providing enduring instruction and structure that can be replicated; patterns for living that the next generation can build on.

I will say here what can't be a surprise because it's just everyone's truth; our parents weren't perfect.  And while the sawhorse lasted and is worthy of repeating, not everything, on both sides of our family, was.  But there were enough good things passed along to make me take another look at Proverbs 1:8-9 and be grateful for what's been handed down to me...and also, to be soberly reminded.

The intent of the entire book of Proverbs is a common ancient near eastern genre of writing where a parent, most usually a father, collects his life's lessons in a volume to pass along to his children, usually the first born son.  (In that, it is good to note that the author's mention of references to the child's mother was quiet 'inclusive' for its day.)  So the intended audience, then, is the next generation.  

But the implied corollary to this, and here's where I am soberly reminded, is that the father and mother must have something of worth to pass along.  A sawhorse pattern, if you will, that's going to be solid and long lasting.

Believe me, yes, I know, there's enough parental guilt flying about the cosmos at any given time to crush us all.  I do not intend to add any more.  And there's so many ideas and opinions and models of and about raising children to flabbergast the best intentioned among us.  I will not attempt to push for my own.  

What comes to me these days, instead, as I approach 70, and as I realize more and more that my opportunity to build any kind of legacy to leave anyone grows short, is how essential it is to first be teachable myself if I assume to teach; to be grounded in a secure sense of myself, if I'm going to try to come alongside another in the process of their own identity formation.  

I wonder, then, if the best gift I can offer my children and grandchildren, and anyone else I may have any instructive role whatsoever, is ongoing and life-giving practices of spiritual formation that will aid me as I seek to cooperate with the work of God's Spirit within me.  The inner work that will ground me.

What patterns do I want to leave behind?

At my age, these would be patterns already evident in my own becoming.

I had better make sure they are worth handing down.

Of course, just like Ken used new wood to build the new sawhorse, and also adjusted the structure slightly, my kids and grandkids will find their own building materials, and remake things that best help to forge their own lives.  Just like Ken's new sawhorse, while bearing some resemblance, looks very different than his Father's, so the next generation will construct new ways of thinking and loving and living out what God directs them to do and be.  I celebrate that.

But there's a pattern.

Something to build on.

Something worthy of replication.

At least, I hope so.

The Sound of Wordless Worship

 But ask the animals, and they will teach you, 

or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; 

or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, 

or let the fish in the sea inform you. 

Which of all these does not know 

that the hand of the Lord has done this? 

Job 12:7-10

Sunday on my own.

A seldom-solitude breathes worship into all the little spaces,

making the day 'more' somehow,

right from the get go.

I am eager to learn.

Early on the deck,

then out on the water.

Otters, a deer, several ducks, a large turtle.

They all know.

So do the blue jays,

but let's face it.

They're here mostly for the peanuts.

I say nothing.

I sing nothing.

I am here to learn.

Teach me,

inform me.

I want to know what you know.

A wordless worship in sounds magnificent;

the language of those who know.

One Man's Trash, Another Man's Glory

 

Here's an interesting discovery.  An old bottle left on the ground out back of the cottage has turned itself into a very pretty little terrarium.

Ken's family has owned the place for over a hundred years, so it's not uncommon for us to find antique glassware here and there, mostly inside on the shelves of forgotten corners in the older buildings.  But sometimes, alas, scattered in various places on the property.  

This, however, is a first.  

I couldn't help but think this is what it's like when human carelessness, disrespect or negligence is somehow transformed into life and growth and joy.  It's a defiant thing, all growing and green regardless.

Paul wrote:

We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance character, and character hope."  Romans 5:3-5

Here's to the finding of forgotten things full of hope.

The Treasury of a Legit Rainy Day

 The LORD will open to you His good treasury,

the heavens, to give to your land in its seasons,

and to bless all the work of your hands.

Deuteronomy 28:12

The whole time we've been up here the weather has been a tad off and on.  June has not yet produced a long string of summery days, although we've had the fans going the odd day here and there.  And also, no string of rainy days exactly, either.   We've had rainy periods, afternoons or mornings.  And then some really cold mornings as low as 9 C.  But much of it has been 'variable.'  Variable clouds, variable showers, variable temps, cloudy with sunny breaks, just here and there.

Today I want to call this a legit rainy day.  And while there's still periods where it stops for a while, and the next round of showers seem to be just warming up, mostly there's been that lovely cottage rainy day vibe.

There's something about hearing it on the roof first thing in the morning that sends the universal signal of approval to sleep in just a little bit.  And now the fire's on, not because it's all that cold, but just because it chases away that damp feeling, and no one is complaining about the added level of cozy.

Drops on the windows.  Little puddles on the deck.  You can see the rain on the water. Everything hushed under the sound of it.  

My otter friends don't mind the rain.  They dropped by, the three of them, for the first time, to say hello and sample our reeds, and fish a little between our dock and the shoal.

Abby was able to catch them in a rare moment when all were surfaced and looking at her in the same direction.  I call them Larry, Curly and Moe.  And unless someone can tell me that otters usually travel in packs of three, I'm going to claim that these are the same three silly dudes that have visited before, and even accompanied me part way around the island some mornings in the kayak.

The blue jays don't mind the rain either, apparently.  They arrive on the deck railing right in front of where I'm sitting, wondering if there are any peanuts to be had today.  But no.  As cute as you are, I'm staying indoors today.  Try again tomorrow.  

I'm glad for the rain for the blueberries' sake.

So much potential, and a few patches that are 'new' this year, in that there are green berries on plants that haven't been fruit-bearing before.  Looking good so far, but it can all change depending on the rain between now and mid July.  So bring it on.

A day to bake cookies.  That's just a given.  No pictures yet because that's what I'll be doing next.  After this.  Because the morning was spent in quiet concentrated work at the computer, looking out at it all, enjoying the cozy work vibe happening here on a rainy day.

I am receiving the blessing of Deuteronomy 28:12 this day.  Just...receiving it.

And spreading it out to you, wherever you are, raining or not.

Everywhere

 

He has made everything beautiful in its time.

He has also set eternity in the human heart;

yet no one can fathom what God has done

from beginning to end.

Ecclesiastes 3:11

We're back in the city over the weekend due to the fact that, while we may be ready for cottage life, city life isn't ready to release us just yet.  Important events and meetings in ways important to be present are reason enough to stop back in and check out what's going on in Kitchener.

It's a beauty day already with a few friends joining me on the walk this morning.

And fresh blooms along the way as well, basking in the morning light in a way that captures them more vividly, even in the softness of the rising sun.

I'm glad for a few little surprises in our own garden too.

Things that weren't in bloom just six days ago when we left.

My files are loaded with pictures just like these, but I can't seem to help myself.  

The contrast between being in the city and being on an island is striking, and yesterday's sunrise rainbow at the cottage, breath-taking.  Honestly, any pictures I took did not do justice to the magnificence of just standing small and humbled under that wide, bold sky.

But I find, as I go back and forth, that there's beauty everywhere if you're just looking for it.

Mind you, we have these amazing trails here close to the house, and a little culvert of running water (look away from the graffiti), and we aren't exactly downtown in a busy metropolis (mind the hydro towers), but still.  

And, for me at least, it is a connection with the Creator, a defining of the Divine.  And it's everywhere.

Saturday!  We'll be stocking up on groceries and running some errands, and packing that list of things I realized we still needed at the cottage when we were there last week.  That sort of thing.

Hope it's a good one for you.  Hope there's beauty around you to notice.

The Internet and the Introvert - The Essential Need for Connection

 

"Above all, love one another deeply,

because love covers over a multitude of sins.

1 Peter 4:8

I have a clear memory of when the land line was installed here at our cottage.  And I was not happy,

We didn't own the cottage back then, but had generous use of it by the relative who did, and who also felt it was time to get connected with the outside world.  This was waaaaay before anything like the internet existed.  It's important to know that.

I was not happy because the month we spent here every July was sacred.  It was a respite, a time set apart for family only.  The isolation of an island meant no one could drop in on you unannounced.  We were secluded, and it was quiet.

All this was especially important because life and ministry, even back then, had a people intensity to it that made the time away necessary for our family's well-being and my own mental health.   I mean, if Jesus found it necessary to retreat into solitude from time to time (eg. Mark 1:35-39), how much more the introverted-yet-fully-engaged-mercy-oriented pastor?

The phone line seemed an intrusion; a way of people being able to reach me when, frankly, I did not want to be reached.  We kept the new technological advancement on the down low.  Only gave our the number to those on the need-to-know list.

That was then.  

I laugh at myself now when, due to a change with our previous server last fall, we had to switch internet providers for our connection here this spring.  That meant that for the four days we were here to open we had no connection.  And we felt it.  I felt it.  Not hugely, because it was, after all just four days.  But enough that we even delayed our arrival by a week while we waited for the proper gizmo box thing to arrive at our door back in the city before deciding it was okay to come up and step into cottage life for the season.

It's working great, by the way.  (But then you probably guessed that since you're reading this post, and I would need internet access to send it out.)  Plus there's the thing about having our phones for calls and texts, independent of internet.  And, oh yeah, we still have that land line.

I count nine different means by which I could be contacted here at the cottage.

And I'm pretty okay with all of that.  

Be completely humble and gentle;

be patient, bearing with one another in love.

Make every effort to keep the unity of

the Spirit through the bond of peace.

Ephesians 4:2-3

I still wouldn't want a barrage of messages to deal with all at once, of course.  But a lot is very different today than it was that first day they came to hook up the land line.  Mostly it's that we can be here so much longer than just one month, since, for both Ken and I, our jobs have changed dramatically, and 'work from home' can have various iterations.  Also, most of the nine different means of contact are quite less intrusive than the random, raucous ringing of a phone (the likes of which could require you have to run up from the dock to answer in time -- so annoying!).  

And surely it goes without saying that this is about so much more just the business side of things.  Yes, it's great to be able to send and receive all the emails that keep life going, to do the research and watch the video tutorials on fundraising, to check out a few online commentaries, to access those Google docs. 

But it's just as much, if not more about the fun Facebook posts, sharing sunrises and critters and views from the deck; about quick and happy chats with the grandkids, making plans for when they are here later in the summer; about Zoom conversations and prayer times; and just generally staying connected to the wide and beautiful spectrum of people God has seen fit to place in my life, and me in theirs.  

Instructions to New Testament believers (the distinction of which includes all of us today, at least that's my understanding), frequently and repeatedly include the essential need for strong and deeply loving connection.  Neither Peter nor Paul, when hand-writing their messenger-delivered, months-to-receive letter in the first century, could likely ever have imagined a system where they could have just hit 'send.'  But I think the same principles apply.  

Stay connected.  Let love be the depth of it.  Make every effort for it.   

Yes, let's just say it here, in-person, human contact is best under most normal circumstances. I need just one word to prove my point here: hugs.  

And...how fabulous is it that we have the means to keep conveying the love, and keep strengthening the connections in other ways when we aren't physically present.

That's why I haven't bailed on Facebook as of yet.  Despite the strenuous effort in tailoring my newsfeed so I am not disproportionately bad-news baited, it remains for me a compelling means by which something good and positive and perhaps even holy can be shared out into the wild space that is social media.

Which is what I hope for you this day.

That by these words, or by any other means available to you, you might be encouraged and strengthened and inspired.  That you would feel the connection of belonging, the welcome of being loved deeply.

Thursday blessings all.

Birthday Beauteous, and Benefits

Bless the LORD O my soul

and forget not all His benefits.

Psalm 103:2

My first conscious thought is that it's so so quiet, in that soul-expanding way of true silence.  And then I remember where I am.  And then I remember that it's my birthday. And it all cascades so gently from there.

First paddle around the island of the season under brilliant sky and in the company of cormorant and blue heron.  Simple breakfast on the deck that turns into something of a birthday party, with peanuts as party favours.

Chipmunks and blue jays both seem to remember us.  Oh hey, people on the deck.  Let's go check it out! Oh! It's a birthday party!  Zero coaxing for the small furry friends.  Less skittishness from the feathered ones.  Wondering if I'll actually be able to work up to having a blue jay take something from my hand by the end of the season.  

Set up my deck lounger under the umbrella and responded to birthday wishes from every way we can send these things these days; emails, texts, FB messages.  Wow and thank you.  And for all the cards too, that happened just before left and deserved a little display on this particular day.

After lunch a nap because....birthday!!!!  And then over to the other property to do some paint scraping!  Call me odd (many do), but it's one of the cottage life chores I actually find very satisfying.  And this particular paint job is long over due.

Then back for a hot-afternoon shower.  Then supper -- with cake of course!!!

After supper Ken and Abby do dishes - because it's my birthday!   And I spend unhurried time down on the boat by the water, and it's so so quiet still.  I write in my journal about not taking anything for granted, ever.  These enormous, ordinary riches I do not take lightly.

After that, we end the day with a game of Scrabble with a quiet sunset happening on the stones of the fireplace, until we need to turn on a light.  

And that was just about as perfect a birthday as I could ever have planned, which of course I didn't, so it's even more lovely that it just happened that way.  

Sixty-nine this year.  Loving the good gift of life.  

That was yesterday.  Here's how this morning started.

With this and leftover cake, can't wait to see how today unfolds!