A Change In Pace

 [May] The LORD turn His face toward you

and grant you peace.

Numbers 6:26

Yes, I do realize that, in offering this blessing, today's picture is almost identical to the one I posted just a few days ago.  And actually, if I look at them, it's at about the same spot along my route around the island.

However, since it fits so well with my mood this morning, and also this last phrase of the Priestly Blessing found in Numbers 6, I'll gift it to you just the same.

I'm out on the deck this morning with barely a breeze.  There's a construction project involving stone saws going on across the little bay from us, and Ken is setting up our wood chipper as I write, so I can't really say it's all that quiet right now.  But this morning's paddle was on flat water for the entire way around.  Not another human sound but that of my own paddle pushing back the water in a rhythmic dip and soft swish.

It was a good way to start this particular Friday.

We will return to KW Sunday afternoon to celebrate Timothy's birthday, and then begin a little stint stationed in our city home.  Long time family friends have had an over 50 year tradition of visiting as renters in the place we now own but originally belonged to Ken's grandfather.  They will renew their love of this space over the next twelve days or so.  And, because there is still some outdoor work in progress for our little house on Sandra, and because it's good to take care of banking and errands and such, we'll spend that time there.

I'm okay with this.  Of course summer is short, and I am greedy for all the time I can have by the water as I can get.  But it will be good to get at some of the thrifting and other gathering I need to make sure gets done before I leave for Thailand in September.  Plus, I'm preaching at Highview on August 9, so there's that.  How beautiful it will be to worship together with my peeps!

I'm okay with this, but I am bracing myself a little for the dramatic change of pace.  Mostly, I'm talking about cars and driving and having to go places.  When you live on an island you get to indulge in that unique gift of having no where to go most of the time.  At least, it's a gift to me.  Some more extraverted folks may not embrace that part of our reality here.  But I crave it, soak it up, try to store up as much of it as a I can while I'm here.

I do intend to try to catch some morning sun when I get back.  Like this.

There's something about the breaking of a day to set you up for it in calming, reorienting ways.  I think it's because the sun reminds me of the face of God, too brilliant to fully receive, yet so graciously 'turned towards me' in ways I'll notice all the rest of the day, if I pay attention.

Happy Friday of the long weekend to you, wherever you or however your day has started.

Hope you can catch glimpses of the face of God turned towards you favourably.

And may He grant you peace.

The Reset to Start the Day

 

It's rare that the open water is this flat.

I got out just a touch earlier this morning, so that helped.  Ridiculous, because I have so many pictures just like this in my files.  But every time I come around the point, it does something to my soul.  Reading van der Kolk's The Body Keeps the Score right now, and I think he would say that I'm experiencing something of a neurological reset.

The water is calm.

So am I.

Fully present in the moment.

I wonder if that's what the psalmist was trying to do when he wrote:

Be at rest once more, 

O my soul, 

for the LORD has been good to you.

Psalm 116:7

Of course van der Kolk, and many others, suggest various, simpler ways we can re-centre ourselves without the need of a kayak, a large body of water, and a sunrise.  Maybe you have a favourite one yourself to share in the comments, if you are so inclined.

But when I'm here, when I'm out on the flat water, I'll soak in all I can get.  And share my many pictures with you, sorry-not-sorry for how repetitive it might be.

That was a full three hours ago now.  Since then I've showered, hung out a load of laundry, grated carrots in prep for baking later, got something started for lunch, set up my work station on the deck, provided breakfast for no less than seven chipmunks (on the deck at the same time) and two blue jays (who have to move fast if they are going to get any peanuts), and Ken and I got a good start on our kiss-count for the day (that's all I'm saying about that).

Not quite 9 and I'm just checking over the list to prioritize today's work.  It's supposed to be another perfect summer's day here, with some needed rain by tonight and tomorrow.  Yay for the blueberries (which will no doubt be the object of my next set of repetitive pictures!).

Hope you find your reset.

Have a fabulous day.

It's Enough

"The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

surely I have a delightful inheritance."

Psalm 16:6

Woke up longing for a Cognashene sunrise.  

Plans are underway for opening weekend.  

So I tell my heart, "Soon enough.  Hang on."

Still, I'm left with the longing, and in spite of the work ahead of me today, I find the need to sit in in for a while before I begin.  

Psalm 16 is a go to meditation for me, in these in-between moody moments.  In reciting it again, I land on verse 6 and this bit about the portions of the Promised Land allotted to each family.  Interesting, this idea of boundaries being "pleasant."  We often think in terms of restrictions, and not letting anyone hold us back from our freedoms.  And there is that.

But these words also describe the deep contentment of having 'enough.'  There is a lack of neediness; a lack of restlessness; a delight in knowing I am well taken care of.  

I sit for a moment in that gentle reality, like brilliance splashed on glassy waters quietly.

Breathing in.  Breathing out.

And yes, now I can bring a more grateful spirit to the day ahead, and all it might delightfully require of me.

 

Rising Songs

"And all of a sudden I am unaware of

these afflictions eclipsed by glory,

and I realize just how beautiful You are

and how great Your affection is for me."

How He Loves, by John Mark McMillan

"For our light and momentary (by comparison) troubles

are achieving for us an eternal glory

that far outweighs them all.

So we fix our eyes on what is unseen,

since what is seen is temporary,

but what is unseen in eternal."

- Paul - 2 Corinthians 4:17-18

I would promise not to post any more sunrise pictures, but I think that's probably not going to happen, so...

And anyways....just look at that sky!!!

We sang this song, How He Loves Us, at Highview on Sunday. By this morning, I can't help but hear it crescendo as I come around the point to this. I'm immersed in something so much bigger than myself. A humbling love of explosion across the horizon. I feel unspeakably small and hugely significant all at the same time.

I stop paddling and just open my face to it.
I say nothing.
Let it come over me.

Afflictions eclipsed by glory.
Eyes fixed on the bigger things, the eternal things.
And the bright impossible sky reminds me,
reorients me.
Again.

So friends. Sorry, not sorry for another sunrise shot.
Praying glorious things for you this day.

All Glorious

 

First time out in the kayak since June 16!

The implications of a rather complicated summer, including an emergency appendectomy and subsequent recovery thereof, have kept me on the dock, full of longing.

But this morning, with calm waters at sunrise, and fully six weeks post-surgery, and jet-lag notwithstanding, I ventured out to see if my body could handle what my soul so badly needed.

And yes!

All glorious sunrise, all beauteous and stunning, and reminding me again of the faithfulness of God and the spectacular order of creation.

To ease my husband's wise concerns, I did not attempt a full go-round the island. Only just down the channel past the church to where it opens up. Here the water was not quite so calm. But that's okay, because the breeze and flow brought me gently home again.

Home again it is.

Our arrival back on the Freddy yesterday signals the next phase of the aforementioned complicated summer. I'll call this the resting phase.

After the painful and urgent trip to the hospital ending in an emergency appendectomy....
and after the frenzy of closing date and the last push of packing...
and after the abundant and crazy-joy of a full cottage with family...

and after a robust trip to Thailand and the crazy-joy of the family there (including introducing Abby to that part of my heart)...

After all of that, there is now. Welcoming the day out in the kayak, out on the deck with friends who like peanuts (including a very young-looking blue jay), the quiet of August by the water.

This is now.

All glorious.

Also, I might call this the finding-stuff-and-putting-it-properly-away phase. While most of what we will need once our new small home is completed is in storage, we've brought boxes and bins up here with us for what we'll need in the next three months of living. And as organized as I tried to be, there are more items than I'd like to admit that I really have no idea where they are!

So here's to more days of kayaking, and sorting and putting away, and just being quiet for a while.

I miss all the children at Hot Springs.
Just needed to say that too.

Happy Thursday, folks.
I think that's what day it is, anyways.

Morning

"Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,

for I have put my trust in you.

Show me the way I should go,

for to you I entrust my life."

Psalm 143:8

It's a brighter sky this morning for sure.

And yesterday's temperatures?! I mean really? Smashing a 60 year record high with 21C? We won't get into what all this might mean in a bigger climate picture. And I hear we might get snow again on Sunday. Oh well.

I'm just glad for the chance to get outside yesterday in the warmer air. Slept last night with the window open even.

All of it has me wistful for other warm places and their mornings. Sauntering down the driveway at Hot Springs just to catch the morning sky between the mountains. Out in the kayak to be very, very still on the water as the day begins in Cognashene.

I don't know about catching worms, but honestly folks, for me it's the best time of the day. And how glad I am for folks that can do productive work after supper. Not me, so it's a good thing the world has both us kinds of people.

For all of us, prayers are offered for good evidence of God's unfailing love, for guidance, and for the peace available when trust is well-placed.

The Sky Though

This morning's sunrise.

Full disclosure though. Despite what might be a recurring landscape on my social media, I am not out doing my 'full' 4.5 km walk quite yet.

That trek takes me out into these wide open spaces where the wind chill is, well really chilly. Plus the sidewalks along the way are not always conducive to a steady, or even safe, stride. My winter-walking takes me into the sugar bush trail very close to our house, and I'm good with that. That stroll I do that most often during the day, so I don't really catch the sunrise, which happens way too late anyways.

So for now, from the window of the van, here it is. A glorious way to begin a day, I gotta' say.

I am thinking this morning of dear friends who are right now planning how they will mark the lives of beloveds who have recently left us, two of them from separate orbits of my life. And I'm thinking of others who are coming up to a one year marker of the same.

And the colour screams across the sky in defiance of the night that releases it. And the promise of a new day that can't be contained.

"My comfort in my suffering is this:
Your promise preserves my life."
Psalm 119

I'm still puttering about this psalm, the longest one, the one that gushes about the Word of God. And one thing is, the author clearly knew suffering. It's punctuated throughout the psalm, and always in context of how a reorientation to the promises of God and the good boundaries of obedience to it, bring hope and life and comfort and delight.

I wish all those things for my friends in the throes this morning. For all of us, really, since life can bring many sorts of sorrows.

I pray screaming colours of defiant hope to light the way,
and remind us all that goodness prevails.

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!

Overlapping Orbits of Brilliance

 

Slept so well last night and woke up ready to take the day! Hopefully this means my body is accepting the fact that we are in this time zone now, even if my mind and soul are lagging still, just a little.

Still, I find myself eager, excited, energized.

Saturday.

It's gearing up to be a day where so many of the orbits of my life overlap.

There's still things left on the list that are about finishing off this particular trip (oh the paperwork!).

I've got a baskets by the door to deliver thank yous to Sponsors (that's always so much fun!).

I'll be doing groceries and packing today in order to be ready to head back to the cottage on Monday (with four grandchildren in tow!).

But before that I will be at Highview Sunday morning, and I can hardly wait to worship with my peeps there (oh how I've missed you all!).

Sunrise.

Children.

Worship.

Reflections of life and joy and love so brilliant I can hardly stand it.

So bring it on, Saturday.

The list is long with tasks of blessing.

How did life get so big?

"I have come that they might have life,

and have it to the full."

Jesus - John 10:10

Sunrise Over Taipei

I was actually hoping this would happen.

That once we landed in Taipei, our layover area would indulge me in my addiction to take pictures of the rising sun. The angle isn't great, but enough to realize again that we are on the other side of the world, already into Wednesday morning, safely through the first and longer part of our journey.

I am also excited to post this picture of me with my feet up, with apologies to all my Thai friends for whom feet aren't quite so polite. But in the lower portion of the Taipei waiting areas are these recliners and I have always envied the blessed folks who get there in time to claim one.

 

Today that's us!

So a short but long enough layover to collect ourselves, freshen up a bit, and hunker down into the last 5 hour flight to Chiang Mai. No re-routing through Bangkok like last time. Yay for that.

Suradet and Yupa have been sending us pictures of their grocery cart and the specialty cereals they've been able to get in anticipation of having Ken at their breakfast table. They've gone all out and I think there's a box of Oreo-themed crunchies waiting. It's already a good holiday.

Or visit. Or ministry trip. Or exotic 45th anniversary destination celebration. Not ever really sure how to answer the question, is this business or pleasure? Ummm...

Yes, it's very much what I do now, and Ken too as a co-representative of New Family Family Foundation in a volunteer capacity. Ministry. Work. It's my job. I have significant materials with me for the preaching and teaching and leading of meetings that will happen while we're here. And it's a full 15 hour day, split in the middle for a rest when the day gets crazy hot. In a summer that has included already some great opportunities for rest and restoration, the next few weeks will definitely press me strongly into 'work mode'.

But how can you call it a job when they call you "Mom"?
Pastor Mom, sometimes. And Ken is "Paw Ken".
How can you call it work when there's jumping and laughing and singing and little voices reciting wonderful things from God's love letter to them?
How can you call it that when you're heart is all in?

For sure, I have to say, that with my feet up for the first time since I snuck in a nap at home more than 24 hours ago, it's feeling all luxury at the moment.

Ken says hi and that he's glad the vending machine has Coke and that we had the right kind of money to put into it. Oreos and Coke. What can I say? He's not hard to please :).

So Happy Wednesday already, everyone.
We're in good spirits. A little weary but not even that much, really.
We'll let you know when we land.

Note: That's 10:30 a.m. Wednesday in Thailand and 11:35 p.m. Tuesday. Don't stay up. :)

Numbering

 

I am mindful of the day.

In just seven more of them I expect Ken and I to have landed in Chiang Mai, been greeted at the airport, stopped in at the “Big C” mall for lunch and to exchange currency, then have arrived to Hot Springs to settle in for a well needed nap.

Before that we will finish up our family time here, likely with a visit to Giant’s Tomb beach later today.

Then we’ll see them off on Friday, spend just two more days here, then head home for a 36 hour stint before the transportation service to the airport arrives Monday night at 9.

All these details, and all the images and lists they conjure in my mind are only vague and misty right at this moment.

Because I am mindful of the day.

This morning the water is like glass for almost the whole hour it takes to paddle around the island.

Even the open water.   I can give only sideways attention to all the things that are about to happen in the next seven days, because right now, at the beginning of this one, it seems I may have slipped between the cracks of time and space into another dimension.  One where all is calm, all is bright.

“Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom,” says the psalmist (90:12).

I feel I am numbering here on the water.  Considering, appreciating, being fully present in the moment of it, knowing I will be fully present also in the other spaces and moments that are about to abundantly fill the days to come.

It’s only recently that I’ve learned this skill, if you can call it that.  This ability to “be in” all the deep spaces of my life that bring resonance and joy and demand much and give much.  My home of 45 years in Waterloo.  This home of 50 years on Georgian Bay.  And the home where I belong at Hot Springs for 15 years now, since we’re counting.

What a morning!

This one.

Right now.

Oh the abundance of my numbered days!

God grant me the wisdom to not waste a single moment.

Sonrise Manifesto

Resurrection Morning!

Jesus breaks loose!

Nothing will ever be the same!

Mourning gives way to morning.
Sorrow submits to joy.
Death surrenders to victory.
Futility relinquishes to hope.

Freedom indescribable,
unbelievable,
unbreathable. 

 

Right here.

Right now.

Right everything and everywhere.

 

Forever.

And ever.

Jesus rules the sunrise.
Every.
Single.
Time.

Every sunrise remembers this sacredly.

Every sunrise sings this fiercely.

Every sunrise rebirths the earth all new and wild and waiting.

And I am consumed with it!
Reborn in it!
Given all the reckless gifts of it!
Resurrection morning!