Magnetic Confession

 

Search me, God, and know my heart.

Test me, and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,

and lead me in the way everlasting.

Psalm 139:23-24

I played with a magnet yesterday.

My task was to find all the metal midst the mess, using a really strong magnet suspended on some rope.

It’s all part of the final push in the demolition project of one of the out buildings on the property.  

It was so satisfying!  And rather surprising.  

What looked like fairly clean mulch of left-over organic material, would actually yield several magnetized layers of nails and braces and the odd bits of wire.  Bolts and screws too.  And a whole array of rusted out hacksaw blades.  I would sweep over the same area several times before it was clear.   Then move on.

It’s important to the whole project, this down-to-the-metal kind of cleansing.  For the environment.  For the restoration of the space to a more natural state.  For what the building inspector called “property standards.”   What I was finding was all rusted and bent and most of the time sharp on some end or edge.  Where I was putting it all was a plastic pot that will be taken to the dump to be properly disposed of. 

It was a soothing, satisfying kind of thing to do.  Swing the magnet on the rope slowly back and forth, pull out all the unwanted junk, and then, when it got too loaded down, walk over to the container and pry it all off.   Repeat.

Wanting to sort out some of the past twenty days back in the city, I was praying a fair bit yesterday too, and some of it while I was swinging the magnet.  Opening myself up to reflection on why I arrived Thursday more tired than twenty days worth. 

Maybe that’s why, in the back and forth of it, I gradually formed a thought, vague and misty at first, but then coming clearer, as if God was conversing with me in the prayer.  And it was reminding me of how easy it can be to keep stuff hidden that really needs to be drawn out and thrown properly away.  Sin, and worry, and the need to have all the important things under my control…like that.  The plastic pot for that is called ‘confession.’

And maybe that’s why the last verses of Psalm 139 eventually came to mind.  And then there it was, one of those ‘in the moment paraphrases’ that happens often enough to me, maybe it does for you too.

“Sweep the magnet of Your loving correction over me, Lord.

Get under the way things look on the surface and pull out all that’s rusted and toxic in me.

All the fear-driven ‘doing’ that replaces the Spirit-led ‘being.’

And keep doing it.  Keep leading me in ways that best reflect Your eternal vision for us all.”

Or something along those lines.

I didn’t want to come, like I said on Thursday. 

But I’m glad I did. 

There’s lots to do here. 

Here on the cottage property. 

Here in my heart.

 

 

Daughters

Apparently yesterday was International Daughter's Day and I missed it. That's okay, though, because any day is a fine day to celebrate the amazing woman we get to call our daughter.

Whitney Houston apparently once said,

"My daughter is my greatest inspiration."

Yes. This. For oh so many reasons that when I get to listing them it borders on unbelievable, but it's all true. In spite of me.

Stay steady, my Love, as you keep on being you in ways strong and full of grace.

And if they asked me to pick just one....

The Steps for This Dance Now

 

At the market by the Ping River on the street bridge (Chiang Mai).

Ken and I worked hard this weekend. Big happy things happening, that required the best of us in coordination, leadership, heavy lifting, and just plain ol' git 'er done.

But we didn't do it together. In fact, I'm talking about two separate, important 'projects' than normally would find us shoulder to shoulder, but simply because of calendar logistics, found us this weekend working without each other.

Ken had a deadline with the building inspector overseeing our cottage project and needed to gather a work crew to clear a big mess on our property up north.

I had a Garage Sale and a dedicated crew with me in Kitchener.

Neither of us was alone. Each of us had a great group of dedicated folks with us to accomplish the task. And the results for both were over the top satisfying in the end.

But I felt his absence in the press of it. These kinds of events we normally do together. And I cannot count how often, over the weekend, I wished he was there, doing what he always did for the sale. Set up, and cash box and counting, and clean up. But more, just to be there to consult with and decide together on any number of things that come up.

As I write he's still asleep, and he got back late last night, so we didn't really get a chance to report to each other how things went. So I don't even know if he missed me or not. Maybe not, which would be good. But before he left he was expressing that he wasn't sure how it would go without me. For the same reasons.

Thank you Lord for the good things that got done this weekend and the competent people who served so selflessly!

And I'm also actually feeling glad for the realization that in this era of our marriage Ken and I have finally found our stride to work as a team.

I think, I hope other married couples get here way sooner. But it's taken us a long, long time to work through our different personalities and giftings in order to be able to be the kind of team it seems we are now. To stop subconsciously competing and start deeply completing. To relinquish some of that unspoken need to control that makes humans fiercely independent and isolated at times, and allow instead for collaboration and listening and learning from each other.

Not sure when I started noticing it. Long before this weekend, of course. But not until recently, like maybe the past 5 or 6 years, if I'm being honest. Some important life transitions gave us the opportunities to rethink the purpose of our marriage and how we want to serve God together in the next decade.

It's been worth it to keep working on it though. To get here. To get to a place where we genuinely miss each other in a ministry context as well as a home context.

To figure out the steps of this dance for this time in our lives.

Hope he gets to sleep in a little today.

Glad he's home.

Breaking News

Anyone else see this ominous creature rising up from the corn field this morning?

And I'm so tempted to leave it there and just see what you might make of it . But of course, no pranks from me - not my style. Just an interesting tree formation I've noticed countless times on my morning walk.

And that's really all it is.

Just trees.

Even though, if I was so inclined, maybe if I was genuinely afraid, I could try to convince you into thinking it was something else.

Things can look like what they are not.

Perspective and context is everything.

Optics are not always reality.

The hashing out of hot topics is often fear-driven not Spirit-led.

What looks like a threat can be something else entirely.

Disagreement doesn't mean hatred.

To really get a clear picture we need to look closely, listen carefully.

Listen with love and compassion.

Listen as if we have something to learn for each other.

Shouting does not equal communication.

And disagreement doesn't mean hatred - or did I say that already?

"A gentle answer turns away wrath,

but a harsh word stirs up anger."

Proverbs 15:1

Saw a meme online yesterday that said, "Stay home and read a book. It's chaos out there." Tempting. But I'm not sure my own personal comfort and safety are necessarily the priority. Not when we have important matters to work out together. Matters that, if we can come together and really listen to each other, will make it better for us all.

Training Dragons

 

It was always the giggle with Tae. And a bit of held back mischief in her eyes, as if she knew an amusing secret. But then, at the smallest prompt, a big burst of laughter.

And she’s grown so tall. One of the lovelies. That’s what I like to call our teenage girls. And she is all graceful and strong and stepping out into her almost-adult life.

We all went to the movies once. It was the ‘bai teo’ (out for fun) of one particular visit. And a big deal too. You can imagine what it’s like to take a family of 23 out to the movies. Doesn’t really happen all that often. And while the overall cost is not as astronomical as it would be here, it’s still a fair bit of the budget to take into consideration. Especially if you’re getting popcorn.

Plus, there’s the logistics. Getting us all there, parking, getting out of the vehicle. Getting us all up the escalators (many for the very first time), around and around to the top floor of the mall where the theatres are. Buying the tickets. Buying the snacks. Finding our seats. Even before the movie begins, we’ve had several little adventures.

Most the of children, especially the younger ones, the ones newer to our family, are all bug-eyed and clutching. So quiet. The big city is so different from where they were born, and even from where they live now.

At the movies - Tae front right in yellow

The lovelies, however, are over the top excited. We get to go to the movies!!! This never happens! Tae isn’t the only one with giggles and bursts of laughter on this day.

But.

At one point the lovelies realize the title we’ve chosen. “How To Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World”. It’s the conclusion to a series from Dream Works based on the novels by Cressida Cowell. It’s animated.

Wait, what? Tae is brave enough to express a concern that is apparently causing some consternation all of a sudden. She comes to me in an unusual show of questioning an elder.

“Cah-toon?” she asks, using the Thai word borrowed from English. There is no attempt to hide her disappointment. All this hype about going to the movies, and Ahjahn Ruth has the nerve to take us grown up girls to a movie for meant for babies?

If you know the “How to Train Your Dragon” series, or anything by Dream Works for that matter, you will know that the animation is sensational and the storyline compelling. The teens in my family are all over this. But with no context, Tae isn’t so sure.

I lay my arm across her shoulders and pull her in a little. “Chorp mahk.” You will like it, I promise. She nods, and is polite, but obviously not entirely convinced.

We watch the movie. It has such a sacrifice-for-love ending that most of us are crying. Goodbye beloved dragons (spoiler alert, oh too late, never mind). Tae is crying. We file out of our seats and we catch each other’s glance. She comes to me, still weeping, and says meaningfully, somewhat dramatically, “Chorp, mai chorp” Like, not like. “Chan cojai” I understand. It really is a tear jerker, just sayin.’

Tae grows things now. She’s studying horticulture and business with the goal of being an independent business woman with her own garden selling flowers and produce. This is a common and very solid career path for Thais, who value the entrepreneurial spirit. She’s living in residence right in the city of Chiang Mai. I bet she’s seen more movies by now.

She came home to Hot Springs when Ken and I were there this summer. Just to see us. And she’s still very much one of the lovelies.

This is what all the fuss is about this Saturday at Highview.
Our Garage Sale is to raise funds for Tae, and also Da and Wara, to continue their education past high school, giving them every opportunity to follow their own path into adult life.

Highview Community Church
295 Highview Drive, Kitchener
Come see us from 8 a.m. to 1 p.m.

When They Iron Your Underwear

 

I firmly believe that a sense of humour and a whimsy for fun are essential qualities in a pastor. That's important to this story.

First, we have to state that a feature of our time at Hot Springs is that we are treated as honoured guests and very definitely not invited into the domestics of things. When it comes to laundry, I'm not allowed to do any of the hanging on the line (we have no clothes dryers at Hot Springs), and it all comes back to me so neatly folded. Anything cotton or wrinkly is ironed. Ironed? I don't even do that for myself at home. Sigh.

I sneak in as much as I can when no one's looking, but truly, they really don't like it when I help clear the table, try to wash dishes, or clean my own bathroom. Believe me, I've offered countless times, all with adamant refusals. Which leads to the sneaking I've mentioned, and a little bit of family fun.

One easy sneak is taking in laundry, because, well usually no one is looking. I was making such an attempt on a day when Wara caught me. Mind you, this was my own laundry, my own underwear that I was gathering. But Wara came around from behind the hedge, saw what was happening, and made the usual fuss.

'No! Ajahn Ruth, please let me do that for you!' I protested, clutching my underwear protectively. "Chan ow chewy." I want to help. You all do so much for me all the time. This is a small thing.

'But don't you want us to iron those first?' she asked pointing to my underpants. Full stop. I think my mouth gaped open just a little.

Iron our underpants? What!!!!??? I'm somewhat horrified that all this time, all these visits, they've been - gasp - ironing our underwear! This is so not how I would want them to spend their precious free time. There's taking care of us, but -- this is ridiculous!

I convince Wara that my underwear is just fine as it is, thank you so much, and I come back into the guest house.

"I just found out they iron our underwear!" I announce to the Team. Everyone is equal measures impressed and distressed. I'm just shaking my head as I put my clothes away.

Later, when the first opportunity comes, I pull Yupa aside and express very sincerely that, while we so appreciate all the excellent care we are given when we are here, please, please let's not iron underwear anymore.

Yupa looks confused. I say it again, and I look up a few words in Thai to be sure I've got it right. Then from Yupa a sudden big smile.

'Oh Ahjahn Ruth. We don't iron underwear!! I think Wara was making a joke.'

Yup. She got me good. We laughed hard at this one.

And this is the young lady who is now in her final year at Bangkok Bible College. Currently she is serving in a 9 month internship before heading back to the classroom in the last leg of her journey towards becoming a pastor. And we couldn't be more delighted to support her in this.

As well as having a sense of humour and whimsy, Wara has proven to be full of warmth, insight, integrity and kindness - exactly the kind of pastor anyone would wish for. Her biblical competency is also apparent in the brief but well-spoken devotional she shared with the children one morning when Ken and I were there this summer.

Our Garage Sale on Saturday is all part of this.

Raising money for our Student Fund, so that Wara, and others like her who would not have this opportunity, can continue their studies past high school. A rarity in some parts of the world where the education of girls especially, is still a 'thing'.

From 8 to 1 Saturday, September 23
at Highview Community Church
295 Highview Drive, Kitchener

Who knows? You might find a treasure.
You'll certainly be helping a treasure. :)

A Beautiful Mess

 

The visit when I first met Da she was only 8 years old. She'd just come to Hot Springs and was that winsome combination of quite shy but also full of questions.

I needed an interpreter back then, and I remember a particularly unhurried evening by the fire, near to the end of my visit, where there were only a few of us. Da was right up against me, my arm around her. We were quiet for a bit. Then she took advantage of the moment, and, through the interpreter, I answered a number of her questions, mostly about snow, and other strange things in Canada.

There was a pause. She snuggled in a bit closer and asked, "Ahjahn Ruth, will you ever come back to us?"

Oh honey. What's the Thai equivalent for 'wild horses couldn't keep me away?'

And now Da is studying to be a nurse.

And this is partly the reason my front room is one big fat mess. Sort of like this explosion of wild weed that reminds me on my morning walk how beauty can be chaotic sometimes.

I'm talking of course about the Garage Sale on Saturday, and what a great opportunity it's been to clear away so much that I don't need anymore but might be useful to someone else. And at the same time, it's all raising funds to make sure Da can pursue her full potential.

If you're nearby, come see the mess at

Highview Community Church,

295 Highview Drive, Kitchener

between 8 and 1.
Saturday, September 23.

Wild weeds and wild horses and little girls who grow up to be strong and tender women.

Beautiful.

Not Without You

 

"I rejoiced in the people who said to me,
'We are going to Yahweh's house."
Psalm 122:1 (Goldingay)

That whole thing about being an extravert or an introvert was so liberating when it was first explained to me. Okay! Yes! This is why I so badly crave those times of silence and solitude! This is why being on my own is so restorative!

It's why I post so many pictures of sunrises, and flat water, and teeny flowers close up. These are moments when, all by myself, I am so very connected to who I am and Who He is.

And.

There's a literary feature in Psalm 122 that's kind of fun. It's called 'enjambment' and it describes an on-purpose run-on sentence, usually in poetry, that builds in intensity. It evokes a sense of breathlessness while the reader is brought along in anticipation of the pivotal thought.

Verses 2 to 5 follow that pattern, and it's all about the big feelings of joy the author exudes about going to Jerusalem to - and here's the pivotal thought - worship. And they are heading to Jerusalem, not Zion, which is more about a religious entity than a place. Instead, Jerusalem, a city 'joined together to itself' (v3), is about the bricks and mortar; a physical space.

And yet it's not. Because this is where the people are all heading, together. Not as individuals, but as tribes, or clans (v4). This means there were whole big groups of people. And a lot of them. Crowds. Masses.

So here's the thing. And as clearly as I a an introvert, this is truth.
I desperately, desperately need you.

I need you to point out my blind spots and hold me accountable.
I need you keep my heart oriented towards God and not self.
I need you to affirm and welcome my spiritual gifts as I serve among you.
I need you to forgive me, show me grace, extend your mercy.
I need your help and support when life gets crushing.
I need your acceptance and guidance and correction.
I need your love.
And I very, very badly need to worship with you.

I need to gather in the same physical space together with you, to 'praise the name of the LORD, according to the statute given to God's people' (v4).

Yes, I am aware that admitting this is contrary to our Western mindset of independence and individuality. I do realize that confessing this need opens me up to no end of possible disappointments and pain.

But it's still true.
Even as an introvert.

So let there be rejoicing.
Let there be breathless enjambment anticipation of worship!
Because I can't do this 'living for Jesus' thing without you.
I can't do this 'spiritual formation' thing without you.

I wouldn't even want to try.

Friday Feels

 

In stepping back into city rhythms of work and life, one thing I notice that doesn't happen in the same way up at the cottage is that lovely lift a Friday morning can bring.

Even when you love what you do as much as I do, and even with lots still happening on Saturdays and Sundays, having the weekend be "different" is good. Probably even more so as more and more of us work from home, and/or adjust our work/life balance for various reasons.

My morning walk this particular Friday was fresh but glorious. Coming down to my desk. I've lit my vanilla candle for the first time this season. So yes it's fall, and yay it's Friday, and I'm ready to wrap up this first full week of the season.

A favourite motivator of mine is 1 Corinthians 15:58.
I offer it as an end of the week huzzah to you.

"Therefore (because of the enduring hope we have in Christ), my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labour in the Lord is not in vain."

So, my dear brothers and sisters, way to go!
We made it to another Friday, and God hasn't wasted a single thing done in His name and for His purposes, in all the ways those things can happen.

Stay steady.
Rest well.
Be encouraged.
And happy Friday!

3 Hopeful Responses to a Global Disaster

 

Had a bad day yesterday and I was going to write about that this morning.

But then I checked in on the news and, well. Libya.

And before that, Morocco.

So my bad day? Never mind then.

Except, on my walk just now, it did get me to thinking about how to process these wretched-beyond-imagining scenarios that are playing out in far away places of the world. How can we land somewhere between letting the human travesty undo us, and turning off the news because we just don't want to see it? How can we make our way to somewhere between feeling utterly helpless and numbingly apathetic?

Maybe I could start with just three possible responses.

1. Give

If we're able and so inclined, there's always relief funds set up rather quickly after any global disaster. Far be it for me to send you anywhere specific, but you know how to be discerning. Go with reputable organizations you trust. And we ought to be thoughtful not to let the emotion of the immediate crisis make us abandon charities we already support. Needs are everywhere. And, truthfully, as a planet, there's enough to go around. Even now.

2. Pray

If we're so inclined. Take the enormity of the disaster and all those feelings of helplessness and confusion, and hand it to the One Who's in charge. And yes, that includes ranting and lament. But also, in Libya's case, pray that a country so entrenched in political division might now come together in ways redemptive and beautiful against the horror. Pray for the rescue workers, and the pastors, and the doctors, and those dealing with the dead. Pray for goodness to win, even now. Pray, and let it go. If you find yourself distracted and disturbed, pray and let it go as many times as we need throughout the day.

3. Do the good work before us.

Go about whatever business we have for the day as if it still matters, because it still does. All that we do that brings care and peace and order and goodness to those around us, in whatever capacity, that still counts. Our children still need us to make breakfast, our students still need our attention, our patients still need our care, our neighbour still needs our respect. Those emails or reports or conversations that help keep things moving in our corner of the world, they are important contributions to life and order and peace.

And so is processing a (comparatively hardly) bad day, which still provides me with opportunities for growth, and which I will do, am doing, within the pages of my journal, and out on the sidewalk in the healing brilliance of a rising sun.

Faithfully Orange

 

 Why is it that this time of year I am oh so fond of the colour orange, but the rest of the year I want it no where near my décor pallet?

For example, today I put so much orange on my porch!  And I’m loving the look.

Doing up the porch for fall is another one of those autumn rituals I wrote about the other day. 

First thing is to remove the evidence of my cruel neglect of the summer flower pots.  Gotta admire the tenacity of their last wheezing-hurrah of blooms and dried out stems, in spite of me.  Let’s say a little thank you and lay them to rest in the back corner of the yard.  In come the mums, big ones this year, and a few other potted plants, all vibrant in orange (and yellow), ready to do their seasonal stint of outdoor beautification. 

A few ceramic pumpkins, also orange, add to the ambiance.  I used to get real ones.  I prefer real ones.  But we have so many squirrels that, in no time at all, my port looks like the scene of a multiple pumpkin homicide.  Not pleasant when the bees find out.

Inside too.  Yes, I got out the whole orange bin marked ‘autumn’.  It’s kind of fun for us that we have a grandkid named Harvest, and that we can find so much stuff with that name on it this time of year.  I think it’s become something of an inside family joke by now.  But fun and fall-ish just the same. 

And yes, there’s lots of orange.

All this, at the end of a busy enough day that included the initiation of the regular Tuesday fetching of the aforementioned, seasonally-named grandkid, and another one with a cool name too, but which does not appear on any of my autumn décor, sadly.

And by this, and other means, I move with joy into the anticipated rhythms of the season, and the different way of life in the city.  Meetings, weekly responsibilities, errands and driving, and the constant triaging of the list of all the good things that give my life meaning in this era of it.

And I sing a song of joy for a good and steady orange life.  And yellow and brown and that deep, deep red, all of which signal this southwestern Ontario native that something beautiful has come around again.

Like it always does.

“Summer and winter, and springtime and harvest.

Sun, moon and stars in their courses above.

Join with all nature in manifold witness,

To Thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love.”

And if you know that hymn (Chisholm and Runyan, 1923) you probably just sang it in your head.  And if you don’t, you probably have other ways to anchor yourself in the cycle of seasons, and let it be a good reminder of all there is that can be trusted. 

I hope so.

So much keeps changing.

Some things do not.

That both those statements are true is a good thing.

Wishing you a vibrant, orange Wednesday!

Let's Talk About It

"Let your conversation be always full of grace,

seasoned with salt,

so that you know how to answer everyone."

Colossians 4:6

Came across a Ted Talk the other day that struck me as powerful in its simplicity. In about ten minutes, Celeste Headlee, an American radio journalist, author, public speaker, and co-host of a weekly series on PBS with 20 years of experience, lays down "10 Ways to Have a Better Conversation."

I'll leave the link at the bottom so you can take a look at it yourself. Well worth the time in my opinion, but will leave that to you.

Since communication is so important to me, and I am always, always striving to do this better, in various forms and forums, Headlee's focus on some of the basic attitudinal transactions within every conversation give me plenty to think about.

This one I love.

"Assume you have something to learn."

Every person, she reminds us, knows something you don't. In every conversation, there's something someone can teach you.

I love the humility and honesty of that. I love how it switches the focus from how I might want to impress someone (come on, we all do this all the time, so much so they have a name for it: Image Management) to how I might want to let them impress me (what a concept!). I love the connectivity of this, the curiosity, the way it opens up more possibilities relationally. The opportunity it brings to encourage and lift up the other.

And, in fact, I've found this to be true. Especially and particularly when I'm engaging with people who are very different from me. Different lifestyles, different cultures, different political opinions, different theologies.

There's just so much to learn out there, and every person we come across has something that could enrich us. Hopefully, if the conversation goes well and there's the balance of back-and-forth, we just might enrich them too.

Every day the news depicts a world deeply divided. Is it too simplistic to believe that perhaps we'd be more united if we just knew how to have better conversations?

So on this very rainy Tuesday morning - when I'm NOT out walking - I wish you a day full of fabulous conversations.

Can't wait to see what new things we can learn today.

And how that might bring us closer.

10 Ways to Have Better Conversations 

Harvest Here We Come

 

Now that I'm out for my walks again, I couldn't help but notice the corn.

Two things about this. One is, as I've said often enough before, I love living in a part of Waterloo where I can literally walk past a corn field every morning! This Scarborough girl will likely never stop loving this.

The second thing is how tall the corn is!

Last spring I deliberately took a picture of the cornfield from a certain vantage point with every intention of taking comparison shots throughout the season. These three pictures are the result.

Picture three was taken yesterday. The stalks are so high! Maybe seven feet! And what you can't see (because I'd have to stomp through some mighty weeds to get close enough for the shot) is how ripe the husks are getting.

Reflecting back over the course of this summer, when I wasn't walking but kayaking instead, I am deeply grateful for the time and space not just to rest and spend time with family, but to receive regularly and beautifully from God's Spirit in a way that I would describe as Him 'growing' me.

Spiritual formation is defined by M. Robert Muholland Jr. as "the process of being formed in the image of Christ for the sake of others."

And while I firmly believe in my responsibility to engage intentional practices to help make that happen, it's an imperative humility to understand that this is the work of the God in my life, not the results of my own efforts.

I think that's what I felt happening over this past season. Just like the corn, receiving the sky's sun and the earth's nourishment, and all the goodness God could pour out, and letting that grow me in quiet and hilarious ways.

And now? Coming back to this (for me) first in-the-city-at-my-desk work week? Well, I'm hoping to share that bounty and bring it to the table, so to speak.

There's a LOT going on this fall about which I'm early anticipating, but also realizing the demandingness of it all. I believe the Lord has brought to mind Luke 12:48. "To whom much has been given, much will be required" and is preparing me, encouraging me, bolstering me, exiting me for the months ahead.

And I love this about Him. I've seen this happen over and over again throughout my life. In seasons of exhaustion, He's there reminding me to rest and be restored by still waters. In seasons where much is required, He's right there providing me with everything I need for life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3).

It's the first full week of a new season, folks.

Hope it's starting all fresh and full and strong for you.

And if not, I hope you feel the Presence of grace and comfort, or whatever it is you need in this season of your life.

Autumn's Ritual Reset

Laundry. That, and unpacking. When you've been stationed elsewhere for as long as I have, those two things become the priority. Have to, or you can't actually move very much around in your house.

But since it's September, and because I was determined not to let the drudgery-tasks completely take over, I found myself, almost by default working around all that, on this first Saturday back, to make sure I was well-nested.

There are few times each year when I do this. It's not just about coming back from the cottage, but, yes, that's a fair trigger. It's a re-ordering of my little corners. Beside my bed. To the right on my side of the couch. The tea stash. My desk downstairs, especially what's right at just-above-my-computer-screen eye level. Putting all the books I'll need in the next little while in the basket right behind my office chair. My underwear drawer.

Sorry if that last one is TMI. And also, I do understand different folks function best in different kinds of ergonomic realities.

But for me? I'm amused at realizing again how important it is for me to have a certain kind of order in rather specific physical spaces to be relaxed and ready for the fall season ahead. To have the things that nurture my soul within easy reach. To clear away distractions so I can give more attention to all the amazing souls with which I am privileged to commune. To have the spaces clear so the work can move forward unobstructed.

[By way of a slight rabbit trail, the Old Testament Book of Numbers is fascinating in terms of God's precision on the physical ordering of how the Israelites were to set up camp, and their travelling formation. Read it in a big chunk sometime if you haven't already. ]

It was a good day for this ritual reset. I was glad we came back on a Friday. It provided this one day as a free space to be able to make the transition between these two very different worlds of mine. And between the seasons themselves.

Tomorrow is Sunday, my hands-down favourite day of the week. It's kick off Sunday at Highview, as I imagine it is in many churches in Southwestern Ontario. It's the day when we're all 'back'. When our community of faith re-gathers and does a reset too.

I can hardly wait.

Now, if you'll excuse me, the washing machine just dinged at me again. Time to push through another load. And no, I didn't take a picture of the chaos of our laundry room.

You're welcome.

It Matters That it Doesn't Matter

 

Packing this morning.
Leaving after lunch.
Leaving home to go home
having travelled to home
on the other side of the sea
this summer too.

And how blessed am I
to know a boisterous belonging
in so many sacred spaces?

And anyways,
it doesn't matter.

I remember well one summer
when this really hit home
(pun intended).

I was leaving here after four badly-needed restorative weeks away. But that particular time I knew I was being sent back into the fray of a grinding ministry season with mountainous challenges ahead. Pastoral life can be like that sometimes. Just...really hard.

And in pouring it out to Jesus that last day,
like today is the last day,
as we sat together down by the water that day,
I could see Him just sort of just shaking His head 'no'
so slightly
with that patient smile of His,
and He said,
"Home is here, remember?"
And He made that gesture with His hand
to indicate the little space between us.

[This is how I would describe my 'experience' with Him, not what I actually saw or heard. Happens a lot.]

Oh right. I am at home with Him anywhere.

And that year it mattered so much 

that it didn't matter where I was, 

because Jesus is like home to me.
And that year
I took that home with me,
from home.
And He was right.
Right there.
Right about everything.

And this year
it is not a brutal thing I face in going
home from home.
But big things.
Demanding things
that I'm not afraid of,
just need to be on my toes about.

And it's okay,
because it doesn't matter.
And that matters
a whole lot
to me.

Transitions and Lunch

 

Slept well but woke up really early, way before sunrise. So I've been at it with my list and my computer, writing reports, going over fall events and planning, and happily checking things off my list --until suddenly I look up and it's getting on to lunch time!

The breeze has picked up just a little by now, but the day is once again surprisingly NOT raining, as predicted. A bit cloudy and a lot cooler, but yay for that after such a hot start to the month.

I made work and not kayaking my priority this morning because I am increasingly aware that I am in my last days, hours really, of being in this space before heading back to the city where I think I'll have to 'hit the ground running' as they say. And I guess I prefer having as much tucked away and finished as possible before then.

Besides, the view from here makes anything you need to do at the table all so pleasant.

My last day/hours....and I am not in any way complaining. What a lovely, long extensive stay we've been able to have this season! And Ken will be back (with a work crew) to clear away the remains of the 'boys' annex' (a moment of silence please), and close up the cottage. But for me, I am not anticipating a return until next spring.

And so.

A pause here in the later morning to take a picture or two (because I haven't taken enough already this season). Look out the window at the water (why does this never get old?) Sit for a second in the silence (oh the city noises I notice when we get back!). And remember the goodness of God ("with every breath that I an able").

I used to find transitions so very stressful. I didn't like living in the space in between because I think it felt like I wasn't really able to be fully present in it. More thinking (aka worried) about what was to come and how I would cope with the adjustments.

Like now. Will I find it difficult to be back where it's noisier and life is just that much more demanding?

Maybe.

But that's not now.

Now is lunch time. And I'm hungry. And that's a fine combination of circumstance.

Most everybody has transitioned back into fall by now, I know.
I'm just a little slow out of the gate this year, that's all.
Lovin' it though.

I think...a Greek salad.