The Fireplace Thing

 

My comfort in my suffering is this:

Your promise preserves my life.

Psalm 119:50

One of the things we gave up in our move was the presence of a real wood fireplace.  And I do miss the all-senses ambiance a little on cold winder nights.  However, there's still one at the cottage to enjoy.  And this little electric unit (which looks more realistic in person than in this photo) provides enough cozy in our new space in the city to balance out the advantages of not having to chop, stack and haul wood, or clean out the ashes afterwards, not to mention the increased insurance costs.

Of course, with any real fire, there's an element of risk, hence the increased insurance costs.  Keeping the flames inside the boundaries of stone and hearth is essential.  Otherwise you have a dangerous problem to contend with.

Okay, so here's an interesting metaphor I was introduced to some time back.

Suppose you were sitting in a room and a fire broke out in the corner.  This would naturally and necessarily provoke a spike in adrenaline as you stopped everything you were doing to vacate the building and call 911 and/or whatever other action you needed to take.  

But what if by some means, a fireplace suddenly appeared around the fire?  Lovely stones, a protective hearth, a wire screen across the front, and even a chimney to channel the smoke outside.  That same fire in the same corner of the room, while just as hot and just as combustible, now provokes a very different response.

What if the 'problem' was like the fire, and the fireplace was the promises God has made in His Word?  Promises to "work out all things" (Romans 8:28), and "to never leave you" (Hebrews 13:5 and about a bazillion other places), be "the Rock" on which we can stand firm (Isaiah 26:3 and another bazillion references), and to be our 'ever present help in times of trouble (Psalm 46:1), among, like I keep saying about a bazillion more.

What if when trouble comes and friends who, of course first listen with empathy and without judgement, but who then remind us of God's promises, aren't being glib and aren't pretending there's no fire, but are simply helping us build the fireplace around it?

What if we could remember when a fire breaks out that the real danger isn't so much whatever is burning in the corner, but to forget what God has promised?

Please remember, if you know me and know my story, that I have had my fair share of life-altering corners of roaring combustion.  There have been times, many times, when the unforeseen and wretched has raged through, threatening to devour everything I hold sacred and cherished.  So there is nothing about this metaphor that is trite or overly simplistic for me.  I've lived this.  Many times over.

And, I will confess, it's still the human response, when the fire breaks out, to jump up and run around in a panic. 

So.  I will remind myself again.  We live in the promises, not in the problems.  God's got this, whatever it is.  His reputation with me is intact.  He's never reneged on me yet.  I don't understand even half of what He's up to, but then again, if I found a god I could fully explain I doubt it would be worth my worship.  

Warmer temperatures are upon us as Spring ekes its way out of the dirty snowbanks.  We likely won't be running our little electric fireplace too much longer.  But this morning I don't mind it pushing back the dreary sky just a bit, or it's reminder to me of just Who's in charge after all.

And it's Friday, so there's that.

Yellow Lights Are Flashing

 

Because there are so many wonderful walking trails in our part of the city, there are also numerous random places that are not actual intersections where pedestrians are supported in getting across the street.  

I cross Belmont when I'm out for my walk and, at the point where I join in on the trail, there are large white blocks painted on the road, an island in the middle where you could pause, and overhead lights, which I'll come back to in a second.  Overall, it's clearly marked.

There is also this large yellow button I can press.  And when I do, those overhead lights start to flash, and an automated voice at a decent volume says, "Yellow lights are flashing" a few times over.

A few things can happen once all of that is going on.  Specifically, cars may or may not come to a stop.

As a driver, I have to admit, I can sort of understand this.  Now that I live in the area, I am ever so much more aware of these crossing places, and make sure as I approach that there are no pedestrians or bicycles approaching.  

But before that, those flashing lights, to be honest, may have escaped my notice.  The sound system in my vehicle is not connected to the animated voice (which would be a good trick).  It's not like an intersection where you expect you might have to stop, and even when you do, it's not every time.   If I'm not paying 100% attention, which you're supposed to do behind the wheel, I could easily miss it.

And that's exactly what I'm thinking about as a pedestrian.  Those cars coming down the way?  I'm just going to wait here a second beside the big yellow button and see if they stop.  And when they do, I smile and wave thank you and demonstrate just a little pick up in my step to be a grateful, courteous pedestrian.  

And off we go, driver and pedestrian, on our merry little ways into our respective lives.  

Seems to me I have been both in my interactions with folks.  Both the driver with all the damaging potential of a vehicle, and the pedestrian all vulnerable and at-risk.  In some settings, at certain times of my life, I come into a situation with a degree of authority and confidence perhaps oblivious to the more delicate or even wounded state of someone else in the room.  And in other settings, at certain times of my life, I'm the delicate, wounded one in danger of being knocked over.

Maybe I wish there were flashing lights and an automated voice for every potentially damaging encounter.  You'd go into a meeting, or a conversation, or even a family dinner and everyone could hear it; "Yellow lights are flashing."  Be careful here, lest you do damage or be damaged.  

The thing is, like the random crossings, it's not every time.  It can take you by surprise.  Sometimes you see the pedestrian and you can stop a ways back and let them know they are safe and seen, and sometimes you don't.  Sometimes you remember to wait for all the cars to stop so you can cross safely, and sometimes you don't.

So what to do?

Maybe two things.  And Paul can help us here.

"Be kind and compassionate to one another, 

forgiving each other, 

just as in Christ God forgave you." 

Ephesians 4:32

One, be kind and compassionate.  Slow down, take a breath, read the room.  Ask questions and really listen.  If you are the one with any advantage in the relationship or situation whatsoever, be mindful of power imbalances, choice of words, even the volume or tone of your voice.  "Seek first to understand rather than be understood," as Steven Covey would remind us.  Submit your strength to the other.  Stop way back of the line and let others know you are safe.

Two, forgive.  Assume the best not the worst of those who fail to stop and notice your vulnerability.  Realize that not every demonstration of power is intentionally meant to hold you back or harm you.  Forgive when stronger people blunder, because they will, and so will you.  Additionally, wait at the curb until you sense you have the safe space to cross into the conversation.  Push the yellow button and advocate for what you need.  But exercise the grace that was given you.  Remember the times when you're the one behind the wheel.

Caveat:  Some damage is severe, I know.  That is a different conversation.

But I wonder, as I am out on my walk, as I live out an ordinary day....as I move through my relationships,....just applying this to myself...what can happen if I understand myself as both?

Sunshine and Sidewalks and Being Self-Aware

It's been such a good thing to get more traction these days, with the sidewalks melting down and drying up.   While I travel for most of my walk on a city-tended trail, to get there I still need to navigate past residences with sidewalks out the front.  

Some are clearer than others during the snowiest days of the winter.  But by now, most are free of ice and snow, and I can really pick up the pace.  Except when I can't.

Every once in a while, especially as snowbanks melt, there's a patch that's wet and, if it's in the shadow of a tree or structure of some sort, it's still frozen or refrozen.  Just a thin, thin layer that looks identical to the merely damp piece of concrete I just had my foot on.

It may or may not be black in colour, but that's what we call it; black ice.

I've had to catch myself a few times this past week.  So tricky!  In an instant I could have my feet out from under me and end up on the pavement with who knows what injuries.  It happened to a friend of mine already this winter.  

And it strikes me, as I awkwardly rebalance myself and do a quick check for any wrenched muscles, that the treachery of it all is that the icy parts seems at first to be hidden in plain sight.  Well, almost.  In reality, however, what I'm seeing is that the dangerous places are found where it's just a little darker, in the shadows.

Because this is Lent, and Lent is in part a time for self reflection, I am drawn to a comparison.

It seems this may also be true of the human soul.  That things hidden pose the highest threat to love and connection, and the essential trust required for people to live together, work together, serve together.  Things hidden can be the most stubborn hurdles in personal growth.  They can topple grand endeavors, derail important adventures to manifest destinations, ruin reputations, ripping the feet right out from under us.  We land hard.  Sometimes broken.  Happens all the time.

The problem is human nature is very skilled at keeping things hidden, either by intention or simply by being blind to our own faults.  We can, if we're not careful, live a carelessly unexamined life, completely oblivious.  In the shadows the treacherous step is unseen.

The psalmist knew it.  

"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

The prophet knew it.

"Let us examine our ways and test them,

 and turn back to the Lord." 

Lamentations 3:40

Even the philosopher agreed.

"The unexamined life is not worth living."

Socrates

So what to do?

Privately, it doesn't hurt to spend a moment at the end of the day to sit quietly and ask God to do that search the psalmist was talking about.  Ignatian Spirituality might show us the way here.

Publicly, it doesn't hurt to gather an 'us' about us, a community, a small council of trusted friends, to speak into our lives and 'test' our ways, like the prophet talked about.  Here the Quaker tradition of a Clearness Committee might be helpful.

Because in the end, what we want is to live a life worth living, don't we?  Like Socrates says?  And simply for a little extra reading I leave this here.

[Note:  Links are just for more information purposes only, and do not necessarily constitute an endorsement of the authors or content.  Just sayin'.]

Our secrets hurt those around us, most often and most deeply the ones we love.  And most of us don't wake up one day and decide to do that.  We don't.  

So here's to longer days and more confident strides when we're out walking.  

Here's to warmer temperatures of the season and of the soul.  

Here's to searching and examining and letting that be part of a journey that takes us more and more towards bright and beautiful ways to be.

Still Waters

 

With a fresh dusting of snow this morning, I find myself looking back and forward to warmer times in the kayak.

We were visited by so many deer last summer!  And this gentle creature stood long enough for me to capture an almost perfect reflection.

"He leads me beside still waters.  

He restores my soul."

Psalm 23:2-3

And that's all for this first of March morning.

Blessings and strength, everyone.

Moving Ahead Together

I am soaking up the sun on my walk today, and also randomly remembering a quote about leadership.

"If you think you're leading, but when you turn around and no one is following you, you're just out for a walk."  

(Not sure where it comes from, or I would cite it, and if anyone wants to let me know, I'd be glad).

Of course today I am actually just out for a walk.  But also, these days, whatever leadership role I do embody is vastly different than it once was when I served as a pastor of a local church.  Still a lot at stake, for sure, and still requiring all that good transparency and integrity, but much smaller in scope, far less demanding, far more focused.

It's a heavy mantle, the memory of which prompts many prayers for those in varying arena of my life who carry it.  Today, as I walk and remember the weight, I am especially grateful for those who lead my community of faith, Highview Community Church.

Particularly, I feel glad for our leadership culture, that being one of consensus and plurality of leadership, a strong influence from our Brethren background (a reference to the beginnings of Highview's story, if you know it).  

A quick definition:

"Consensus leadership is a collaborative management style that emphasizes collective decision-making and inclusivity, aiming to involve all stakeholders in the decision making process."  (Google, Gemini, 2026)

It's a slower way of moving forward together, but it's worth it because we have a better chance of moving forward together.  Collaboration, collective decision-making, inclusivity, all stakeholders.  It takes wisdom, nuance, and the setting aside of person agendas and dominating egos.  It requires layered listening, and broadened thinking, and deeper feelings.

No leadership structure is perfect because, oh let me see, every approach requires people to be involved, and, oh let me see, people aren't perfect.  Even when all are committed to practicing consensus, it's easy sometimes to forget, especially when things get dicey and the urge to take matters into our own hands or press an agenda is strong, if for no other reason than to relieve the tensions.  Even the most others-centered of us can quickly fall into the trap of me-focused tunnel vision.

In my own experience, I have been so grateful for the wisdom of the collective voices around the table when my own perspective has been too narrow, or my understanding of the situation has been more fear-driven than Spirit-led.  

So lead on!  And thank you, all who carry this.  Thank you for moving us ahead together.

And just to reminder you: You are prayed for.  

So Far So Lent

I have been thinking a lot lately about how this particular season of Lent has lined up in a unique way for me with a space of time with nothing 'big' to plan for, and nothing 'big' to be in the midst of.  

Unlike the past five months, almost non-stop, when I was indeed planning AND/OR in the midst of all the big things, smack bang all in a row, from now until Easter the list is back to a reasonable length, and the weekly demands have diminished somewhat.  A good deal, actually.

In making space for some intentional listening, I felt I was being directed to give up "productivity" for Lent.

It's a bid odd, I agree.  Rather abstract, unlike chocolate, or coffee, or even social media.  It's not even an abstinence from work entirely, as there still are many important irons in the fire that do indeed require my attention.  So what does it mean, exactly?

I'm not sure yet.

But any sense of 'git er done' is, I think, out of bounds right now.  No pushing.  No pressing.  No striving to accomplish as much as possible in the time allotted, as is my usual default setting.  Such could easily be my god, truth be told.  And I pause to just be somber in that thought.

Giving up productivity for Lent.  I am figuring it out.  I mean, what does working but not pressing toward intense productivity look like?

So far, it looks like....

• An intentionally shorter list for each of the next six weeks.
• Stopping first thing in the morning to take in a 6 minute video by N.T. Wright, part of his "People of Promise: Lent Series."
• Prioritizing shoveling the snow over getting down to work as an act of worship this morning while Ken was still sleeping off a fever.
• Allowing wider spaces for conversations.
• Making reading a real thing and not just a treat thing.
• Ending the work day when I still have energy for 'one more thing.'
• Heading out for a walk at the end of the day instead of trying to cram in that 'one more thing.'
• "Booking" a nap near to the end of the week, and holding myself responsible to it.
• Refraining from listing 'all the things I've done today' posts on social media.  (Hope this isn't one of them.)

So far.

Spiritual formation is hard work, I find.  I keep cycling back to my basic issues, unlearning and relearning and peeling back the layers.  I'm not entirely sure where all this will take me this time out.  Just following a lead and seeing what comes.

Happy Thursday, however it unfolds for you.

And if you are observing a Lenten practice, may it take you deeper into where you're going.

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.

Surely Goodness and Mercy Follows Me Today

 

Because Hod is a far enough drive away from Hot Springs, we are on our way the day before the wedding, and stay over in a lovely guest house about five minutes from the church.  I've mentioned before that Suradet is officiating, so it makes the most sense for us to arrive ahead of time, get our bearings, and even get to see some of the preparations underway.

I truly LOVE how many flowers there are at any special event here, especially a wedding, since the long growing seasons make them so available and affordable.  We get settled into our guest house and find some pad Thai for dinner.  

That's when Suradet casually asks if I would be willing to offer a prayer at the ceremony.  In a culture that highly values participation, it is very common for any visitor to be asked to say something or do something, even at the last minute.  So, of course I'd love to pray a blessing over Anachali and Chaichana.  Both are newly ordained pastors in the Korean Methodist Church, and are beginning their married life with a strong understanding of their combined call to ministry.

I spend a little time then before bed, writing the prayer out.  I want it to be meaningful and solid, and to make sure I am pronouncing things properly.  Side Confession:  Since the incident that one time with one mistaken word where I said 'poop' instead of 'key,' I'm just a bit leery about these things. Especially for a wedding!

Feeling ready, and a really happy to have been asked, to be honest, I tuck into bed looking forward to sitting in the congregation the next day, ready to do my little part.

We arrive about an hour ahead of the scheduled time, and are quite comfortable waiting in the shade while folks gather.

The Bride is from the Poh Karen tribe, and it is such a happy thing to see all those guests arriving all decked out in tribal finery, climbing out of the back of the truck.

The day is cool and sunny and perfect.  Everyone is smiling and enjoying their chit chat.  I'm getting the chance to practice some of my Thai as Suradet introduces us to so many of his friends from Bible School and other settings.  I find out from someone from the village how to say "prayer" in Poh Karen - An ten ter.  I write that down on my little piece of paper with my notes.  I've gone over it again, and I'm relaxed and ready, happy to have such a small part in all of this.

However.

About fifteen minutes before the service, Suradet invites me to walk through with him how things will go.  He takes me to the entrance.  When everything is ready, he will be the first in the procession, he tells me.  I am to follow him at a slow pace, and go with him right up on stage where there is a chair set aside for me with all the other pastors who are also in attendance.  Like, Oh.  I'm now in the procession.  Okaaay.  Going with this.  Sorry Ken, looks like you'll be holding on to my purse, and please won't you take some pictures.

Then, about five minutes before the ceremony, Suradet arrives back to where we had been standing, now wearing the clerical gown of his denomination used for special occasions.  And doesn't he have one for me too?  Well then.  Okay.  Still going with the flow.

These things used to throw me a little.  I like planning.  I like knowing what's coming, as much as is reasonable and possible.  But by now I've mellowed, or by now God and Thailand together have helped form me into something less rigid, or by now I am better able to find the fun in the unexpected, or all of the above.  And I find myself filled with delight to be sharing this awesome moment of ministry together with Suradet, all decked out and walking down the aisle to begin the celebration of such a beautiful and hope-filled thing as a wedding.

Honestly, the whole time, hearing my name being announced during the procession (that I am a missionary from Canada serving with Ajahn Suradet at New Family Foundation), sitting on the platform facing the congregation, singing old familiar hymns in Thai, being right up in the action as the Bride and Groom say their vows, all the proceedings and everything...that whole time all I could feel was an increasing sense joy that I get to do this, that I get to be here doing this.  With Suradet, and with Yupa and Ken too.  And all these amazing people who love and live and serve Jesus on the other side of the planet.

When it comes time for the prayer, Anachali and Chaichana get right down on their knees.  I'm holding a microphone and my notes, but Suradet indicates that I am also to lay hands on the Bride.  It's just a tad awkward as I really do want my notes, and I have to lean over, which makes it all at a weird angle.  But we all manage, and there are enough affirming murmurs from the congregation at just the right points to assure me that I am being understood.  At least I hope so.  I can only ask the Holy Spirit to lay the blessing down on the couple in a way that is meaningful to them.  And then, amen.

And then some pictures with all the ordained folks in a row.  And then family.  And then speeches and thank yous now, not at the reception.  And a bit more music.  And we all walk out while the children and the women toss flower petals at us all.  And a new adventure for two fine humans begins.

Ken receives extra points for eating unidentifiable food at the luncheon, without complaint.  It's okay.  Yupa found him some Coke, so it was all good.  And also, all pictures credits, except of this one where I told him to smile, are due to him.  Love that guy.

It's a cup-overflowing kind of day!  All this, and heaven too!!!  

And it gets better.  

We're barely on the way home when we find out that Miki, one of our original girls at Hot Springs is actually also in Hod for the day!  We select an Amazon Cafe as rendezvous point, and - oh happy thing! - I get to spent about 20 delightful minutes meeting her little girl for the first time, and finding out how well she's doing.

I'm almost too happy to sleep in the car on the way home.  Almost.

This trip has been so full of happy already, even without the wedding trip.  So all this extra just feels so....extra.  So much of the goodness that is described in so many places, but perhaps most famously in Psalm 23.  "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life."  I felt followed by it today.  And led by it, and surrounded by it, and covered by it today.

Blessings and congratulations to Anachali and Chaichana.

May God fill your lives with love and strength to serve Him faithfully every single day.

Amen

Heading to a Wedding

 

We're off on a little outing today and tomorrow, heading southwest for a two and half hours drive up a little in the mountains.  Our destination is the wedding of An and Chana.  An, the Bride, has served here at Hot Springs as a Bible School intern on more than one occasion when I've been here, and asked specifically if Ajahn Ruth (and Paw Ken) would please come along with Pastor Suradet (who is officiating) and of course, Yupa.  How sweet.

We are packed and ready for a scenic ride today.  Staying overnight for the wedding that will be held Wednesday morning.  This will be my third Thai wedding, but every one has been different so far, and I am all curious and excited to be present for this one.  Interesting fact this time out:  There is an indication of the colours guests are to wear (on reverse of this invitation shown), and I'm fascinated to see if I can figure out why.  Pictures I'm guessing?  Good thing men are fine in black pants and a white shirt since Ken brought that with him.  Good thing I have a peachish-pinkish outfit that fits the colour scheme.  Also good thing that I consulted with Yupa first!

I just love it when we get the chance to spontaneously experience the special life celebrations that make up this vibrant culture.  Even with Western influences - as seen by the wedding attire pictured on the invitation - there's so much more that is authentically their own.  

Of course this means an Amazon Cafe pit stop is in the plans.  Road trip!

Not sure if we'll have internet connection the whole time, so stay tuned for pictures and stories and such.

Thai Skies and Slow Days (that Go Fast)

It's always a mysterious thing how we can be accomplishing a fair bit in any given day, yet the pacing and general sense of the place is this relaxed.

Our arrival Tuesday evening has given way to what is now already the end of our first week, and it's hard to know where the time has gone and how it could actually be Friday.  Sure, we lose a day in the time change, so that's a big factor.  And this trip we also prolonged the whole experience of getting here by dealing with a missed connecting flight in Taipei.  I'll give it that.

Even so, we have packed in more than one strategic planning meeting, two meet-and-greet dinners, two evening worship times with the kids, and today a visit over to the new property.    Zoom calls home for mentoring and meetings, connecting the Sponsors up for a "different kind of Valentine," and getting set to begin our English time today after school, and - poof! - the week's rolled into a very satisfying wrap.  That includes some very necessary afternoon naps to balance off the jet lag.  

I truly love every iteration of Team that I get to travel with.  AND, there's something uniquely good when Ken and I can be here together.  He is intrinsically involved in what God has called us both to do in their season of our life and marriage together, but mostly holds down the fort at home.  To have him be here, doing his best to sing along in Thai at worship times, remembering the kids' names, sitting at the table with graph paper and pencil, and a fancy rolling ruler, pulling Suradet aside to measure something in light of our big cite planning meeting yesterday, it's all part of what makes me love him more.

So, on this already-Friday, I am realizing I do need to take more pictures!  Which I hope to do when we visit the property later on.  

Actually did get some good shots 

of us marking off the dimensions of the building plan.

But also just of the kids themselves, especially with Ken.  And of course, sorry, not sorry, of the sunrise.

A little fun with some big leaves.

January in this part of Thailand could not be more perfect in weather.  Not too hot during the day, quite chilly actually (16 C) first thing in the morning, and no humidity to sweat about.   I know back in Canada there's snow and windchill, and, as cozy as all that sounds,  I am okay with missing all that right now.  

Just taking in these moments.  Grateful, oh so grateful.

Since my youth, O God, you have taught me,

and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds.

Even when I am old and gray,

do not forsake me, O God,

till I declare your power to the next generation,

your might to all who are to come.

Psalm 71:17-18

Winter Skies and Snow Days

 

I am all set with my cup of tea, ready to hunker down to some of the last bits of desk work before leaving for Thailand Sunday night.  But I make my tea by the window, and I can see the morning sky getting all special.  So I put on my coat and boots and stand in the fresh dawn for a bit. 

Yesterday's snowfall was, shall we say, significant.  We did three separate shoveling stints in various configuration of teams, between Ken and myself, and also David and Jamie (the downstairs tenant/friend in the main house).  At least it wasn't heavy.  And it actually felt good to get outside and move around.  

I was grateful to be among those who did not have to venture out yesterday, able to just stay home and off the roads like everyone was encouraging us to do.  Have I mentioned how cozy and heat-efficient our new little house is?  There's that fabulous moment of stepping back into the house after the last bit of shoveling, fingers all numb, and being welcomed back in all toasty.

By this morning things are moving pretty well again, although with a forecast of another 3-7 cm beginning this afternoon, I think.  Never mind.  We can handle that.

But that's for later anyways.  Right now, the sky is reminding me of things glorious and beautiful and free.

I am glad to get out and take these pictures to show to the kids when I get there.  They are always so fascinated with the snow.  

Three more full days left.  Best warm up that cup of tea and get down to these last items on the list.  Grateful for such a strong sense of God's care and presence through some unexpected things this week.  Curious to see what these next weeks will bring.  Not a lot of snow, I'm thinking.

Happy Friday everyone.

A Prayer for the Big and Far Away Times

 

In the midst of what is otherwise a reasonable preparation-in-the-last-week-before-the-trip, I am finding the need to stop and just feel some things.

A number of people I love are carrying big things right now, and it's all happening all at once, or so it seems.  And it's all happening just now, before I leave for a bit.

It's only three weeks that I'll be away, and there's the wonder of all the means by which we can and will connect, I know.  But it is far away.  

I should be, and perhaps I'm getting to where I'm familiar with this both/and deal.  The tension between my two worlds, and that heightened sense of our human limitations of only being in one place at one time, even when I wish it was otherwise.

Because some of these things feel big.  And heavy.  And hard.  And I just need to stop and allow myself to feel it.

And in the pause to feel, I feel Him.  And it's like He stands before me and takes my hands in His and says, "Guess what?  I actually am in more than one place at a time."

Big, slow breath.  Yes.  This.  

And then the words of Paul, writing to beloveds who were far away and dealing with big things of their own...

....And having just reminded them that we can approach God "with freedom and confidence" (3:12 - gotta love that image!), 

Paul's prayer becomes my own prayer for this big and far away time right now.

For this reason I keel before the Father,

from Whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name.

I pray that out of His glorious riches 

He may strengthen you 

with power through His Spirit in your inner being,

 so that 

Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.  

And I pray that you, 

being rooted and established in love, 

may have power, 

together with all the Lord's holy people, 

to grasp how wide 

and long 

and high 

and deep 

is the love of Christ, 

and to know this love that surpasses knowledge 

-- that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians (3:14-19)

Yes.  All that.

And I imagine myself at Hot Springs, bouncing around to the song that was totally inspired by this text, about God's Everlasting Love being higher, deeper, reaching....  And knowing I'll be praying it over all those I can't be with at the moment, because God  is looking after all of it.

This pause is powerful.  And quiet.  And a welcome humbling.

One Year!

 

Marking one year in our new little house.

What an adventure it's been; all the prep to move out of our home of 36 years on Blythwood, all the planning for and then watching the construction, all the storage and shuffling of furniture and goods.

And then, one year ago on this day, we were granted occupancy and slept for the first time in what has truly become home for us.

Honestly, I do not miss the old house and the old neighbourhood as much as I expected.  Maybe because after one year we still really LOVE where we are.

We thank God for His prompting on this idea in the first place, and for sustaining us through the rather significant transition.  We are so very grateful for His love and provision all along the way.

We are grateful for the friends who came alongside and helped pack and clean.  Could not have done this without you.

We are also incredibly grateful for our son David who wanted to do this with us, made some sacrifices to make it happen, and has proven himself a gracious, honest, reliable son.  A full year later and we are all really glad we did it.  Or did I say that already?

So happy House Anniversary to us!  God is good.  

Winter's 4 O'clock Hush

 

I'm going to make a statement here that I don't expect to be popular.

I actually like it this time of year when it starts to get dark around 4:30 or so.

Yeah, I know.  But I'm already the weird lady who loves early mornings, so I figure I don't have much to lose in the 'what people think of me' department, so hey. 

But it's true.  Along with very early in the morning, this is my favourite time of day in these weeks after Christmas.  For a few reasons.

One is that it's the part of the day that I call it quits on the 'have tos' part of my list.  Unless I happen to have an evening meeting (because, well, there are a lot of volunteer type folks who have day jobs, God bless 'em), I am pretty disciplined about not taking the work day past 4 p.m.  So the ritual of closing up shop and lowering the blinds to signal the end of day provides that sense of moving into a more relaxed state of being, ready to start supper preparations and welcome the quieter activities of evening.  

Now, of course this would be true any time of the year.  But right now, this close to solstice, when 4:00 p.m. also begins the gradual-fade-to-black of the sky, there is a corelated sense of closing in and hunkering down, of being all safe and sound in that sacred place called home.  As if the early fade of light wraps around the house and snugs us in.

And also, right now, this close to Christmas, there are still lights.  And anyways, even much beyond Christmas, into the deeper winter, I keep the lights.  Because they are gentle against the harshness of the weather outside, holding their own and being defiantly delicate, and that making a difference somehow.

So here I should say that, yes, I realize my stage of life and the fact that I am not raising children, and not coming home from work, or dealing with a commute, or any of the other rougher ways a work day can end when you're in a different iteration of family, greatly contributes to how I feel about 4 o'clock now.  I remember those days.  When the kids were young enough and naps were being discarded, and the pre-supper blood sugar drops were catastrophic, we called this 'the arsenic hour.'  So, there's that.

I should also say that I get the way the lesser light brings on the drearies, generally speaking.  Just checked my weather ap and I don't think there's one of those sunshiney icons until Monday!  Yikes.  I'll notice that for sure.

But at 4 p.m. or so, it doesn't seem to matter as much.  Because the work day is done, and I've lowered the blinds to close out the rest of the crazy world for a while.  I can begin the gradual winddown towards a hushed space of cozy love that will soon enough lead me to the blessed rest of sleep.  

"In peace I will lie down and sleep,

for you alone, LORD, make me dwell in safety."

Psalm 4:8

Receiving and accepting this sacred space of early winter evenings has become something of a spiritual practice for me over the past few years.  Yes it's darker, and yes, let's not neglect our Vitamin D.  But giving way to the tender ministrations this time of year, this time of day offers, has increasingly brought good gifts of insight, and reflection, and simple joy, and deep, sustaining contentment.

I write these things wishing it was something I could collect in a mason jar, all sparkling softly and smelling like peace.  I wish I could hand it out to whoever needs it, whoever needs to be reminded that the dark days of winter remind us that it's good to hunker down in our souls sometimes, and be quiet in the waiting of it.  Because it is a crazy world out there.  Cold and sloppy.  

So bring on the hush of 4 o'clock, and let the evening begin.

Lighting the Way into the New Year

 

These first days of 2026 have been a quick series of happy little contrasts between cozy and crazy.

With the fridge full and the calendar clear, we've been able to quietly stay at home during blustery weather, playing Scrabble, doing puzzles, and catching up on the odd Christmas movie we hadn't got around to yet.  After a significantly demanding fall, these simple joys are not taken for granted, especially as it only reinforces our deep contentment with our snug little home.

The crazy part wasn't actually so crazy.  Having Jayden and Timothy for a sleep over went so smoothly, especially considering we are still finding the best ways to do this in our different configuration.  There used to be an entirely separate room with bunkbeds and toy storage.  Now there's the excitement of pushing the mattresses up from the crawl space through the hatch, and setting everything up on the floor of the front room between the couch and the fireplace.  But at 8 and 5 respectively, the boys are more than happy to pitch in and help make it cozy.  And it's especially helpful when the shelves Grandad is building double as something of a fort downstairs.  Who knew?  

All this is reassuring, since one of the big things we were worried about in the move was how it would change our opportunities for connecting with the grandkids like this.  Add in a winter walk, a picnic supper on the floor, and a game of Bandito, not to mention a few goodies to snack on, and we all agreed it was a very successful sleepover!

Yesterday was recovery day.  A good nap in the afternoon after the boys left, then a bit of a re-sort and put away of some of the Christmas decor.  Not all, because I'm not quite ready for that yet, even though we did take down the Christmas tree to make room for the mattresses.  I did find two 'extra' strands of lights that I'd put away in a strange place when we first moved in, and therefore didn't use for my decorating at the beginning of this season.  So I thought I'd see how they might help add to some winter ambiance. 

So, one in the bedroom around the window.

And one around the cabinet in the same corner where the Christmas tree was.  I'm liking it!

A big part of what I miss when we have to take down the Christmas tree is the soft light coming from that corner of the room.  There's an obvious benefit to some extra light during these very short days of solstice, and I've found keeping some of that going into January, February and even a little bit of March helps push back the dreary in helpful ways.

And all of it -- reflecting on the holidays, re-setting the house a little, putting up extra lights, mapping out my list for next week -- is really about doing what I can to lean into what is shaping up to be a positive start to this new year ahead.  Preparing what I can.  Making space for what I can't know yet.  Being hopeful and inspired and realistic and prudent.  Providing light for myself along the way, and hopefully for others I might meet on the road.

I guess it's a little like letting the lights of the Christmas, and the coming of the Light Himself, shine longer into the deeper winter ahead.

And all of this takes me back to Isaiah 58, a truly anchoring text for what I believe keeps me focused on God's 'main thing.'  In it, the prophet speaks for God in correcting His people about losing sight of the true worship of feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, and releasing the oppressed.  That's more than this one post can handle right now.  But it's interesting that one of the promised outcomes of worshiping God through justice and equality is this:

"Then your light will break forth like the dawn,

and your healing will quickly appear,

then your righteousness will god before you,

and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard."

Isaiah 58:8

Sounds like something I'd want to be part of.  

This morning our gathering as a faith community will be around food.  Plenty for everyone.  And a great time to say hello again after the holidays.  This afternoon a nap is still in good order, considering the stepped up pace of the week to come.  Plus, there's really only two weeks left before Ken and I hope to get on a plane and head over to Thailand.  So I want to pace myself accordingly.

Oh yes, the new year has begun, and I'm all in for whatever God has in mind.  

Happy New Year to all.

May you have many chances to shine brightly!