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| Thanksgiving at Hot Springs, October 2019 |
Confession. Orange is a colour for which I have only seasonal affection. This time of year, bring it on! Make it pop. Be generous with the hues of pumpkins and gourds and leaves. Any other time of the year, however, well just never mind.
Except.
Orange is a strong, deliberate brushstroke in every sunrise.
So there's that.
I remember an exceptionally welcome rim of orange one sunrise following a night that will only ever be remembered as brutal. It's odd that this comes to mind for me, this particular Thanksgiving. I can see no direct prompts or triggers. Only except that there does seem to be some space this year, given where we're at in all our transition and the quiet of this place, for letting certain thoughts visit a little longer than I might normally allow.
I will tell the story here, as part of my Sunday morning thanksgiving offering of worship. But fair warning. It's a rather subjective retelling of unverifiable things; perceptions really, of how I experienced what some might call a 'vision.' If that makes you uncomfortable, which it sometimes does me, then let's just call it a particularly personal experience of God's comfort where my human imagination seemed inspired by the Divine. Not unlike we might attribute to certain pieces of art and the artists that create them.
It begins with a real life drive across the 401 eastward that started in Waterloo at midnight, during the kind of late March snow that requires a blast of windshield wiper fluid on basically every swipe. I had to make frequent stops, not just to refill the fluid, but also because I was passing a kidney stone.
I was only on the highway that night because my Mother had fallen and broken her hip, and there was nothing for it but to brute the drive and get there as soon as I could. It's another awful real life story why she lived this far away. I had begged her not to do it in anticipation of this very scenario. But here I was, feeling so anxious for Mom, and not a little sorry for myself too.
To help keep me alert, and also mentally and spiritually oriented on things bigger than myself, I had a collection of CDs with me (yes, this was back then). And it so happened, near the end of that endless night drive, that Chris Tomlin's "Sovereign" (see link and lyrics below) began ever so gently just as I rounded a bend facing eastward atop a hill that gave a broad view of the horizon. The sun was barely rising. Ever so slightly orange at first, and ever so slowly becoming brighter.
I sucked wind, it was that beautiful, and that co-incidentally coordinated.
Then, in the mist of that moment, Jesus stepped in and took my hand and led me to a broad white canvas. He moved behind me and took each of my wrists in each of His and moved my arms in sway with the music. First, from my right hand came colour and vibrancy and shape, flowing down on the canvas in broad, bold strokes. And it was immediately apparent to me that this was depicting the story of my life so far.
"In Your everlasting arms, all the pieces of my life, from beginning to the end...."
And I could see unsightly blobs and tangled layers of blacks and browns and sour greens mixed in with all that was being laid out on the canvas. These were the deep times of sadness and confusion and fear of my childhood, my teen years, and the beginning of my adult life. At first I didn't want them there, ruining the wonder. Yet it soon became obvious that they were intrinsic to such a dynamic, interesting tableau, adding to the texture and strength of what was unfolding.
And Jesus is right there behind me, speaking words of comfort and affirmation, encouraging me to keep going.
The the horizon brightens, the music swells.
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| Red for Thailand, White for Canada |
"In Your never failing love You work everything for good, God whatever comes my way..."
And now, with Jesus still orchestrating all the movement of this, my left arm is in play and new and exotic shapes and colours are forming on the other side. I see Suradet and Yupa as children, cold and hungry and shivering in the mountain air of their own story of poverty. And Jesus is making a beautiful thing of this as well. Other children, once held down in the lethargy of learned hopelessness, get up and start to dance. And there is unspeakable joy in my heart at being witness to this. Somehow, some crazy how, this seems to be connected to all the unhappy stuff that's already been painted on either side of the canvas! And it's all coming together in the middle, where a beyond-my-imagination landscape is coming into focus.
Before it is finished, the whole thing ends.
Yes, I am still driving. I'm still alert to my immediate surroundings. It's just, with the music and the lyrics and the visual of the sunrise in front of me, this particularly personal experience of God's comfort where my human imagination seemed inspirited by the Divine presented itself to me like this. And this is the best I can describe it.
Like I said, there's no specific reason for me to tell this story again this Thanksgiving. Except, I realize that these reminders of the bigger brushstrokes of my life are actually very essential for me now. Bigger than any medical issues (with kidney stones or appendicitis). Bigger than the weighty responsibilities of care (for Mom or at-risk and orphan children). Bigger than nature itself (whether smudgy later winter storms, or catastrophic flooding). Bigger than where I lay my head at night (here at the cottage, in my set apart room at Hot Springs, in our temporary room with our son starting in November, or in our own new little house sometime early next year).
"All my fears, all my dream, held in Your hands... All my hopes, all I need, held in Your hands..."
And Thanksgiving Weekend isn't even over yet.
Sovereign on the ocean floor
With me in the calm
With me in the storm
Sovereign in my greatest joy
Sovereign in my deepest cry
With me in the dark
With me at the dawn
In Your everlasting arms
All the pieces of my life
From beginning to the end
I can trust You
In Your never failing love
You work everything for good
God, whatever comes my way
I will trust You
All my hopes
All I need
Held in Your hands
All my life
All of me
Held in Your hands
All my fears
All my dreams
Held in Your hands
All my hopes
All I need
Held in Your hands
God, whatever comes my way
I will trust You
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| Our Thanksgiving Cottage Mantle |
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