Freeze Frame Midnight Blessings

Between the two,

old and new,

I'd like to freeze the moment.

Before the ball drop,

before the fireworks,

before the horns and bells and whistles.

Here's the countdown, 

so exciting,

but 

just before we all holler "three, two, one!"

Hold it.

No one move.

Except slowly turn to

look back first.

Thank you, Last Year.

You were abundant,

as promised

in a John 10:10 sort of way.

So let this suspension 

between the two,

old and new,

be flooded with remembering,

and gratitude,

for all the tears towards wisdom

and joys towards life-transforming hope.

Thank you.

And then,

turning again,

face forward now.

Still frozen in the moment.

Considering.

Quiet for a bit.

Breathing slowly on purpose.

And then,

saying this time,

(and meaning it)

Welcome, New Year.

We barely know each other.

But here we are.

Here we are,

frozen in this moment.

where the uneasy unknown

and the hilariously possible 

meet

head on.

So let this suspension

between the two,

be flooded with resilient confidence.

Yes!

Welcome!

And then,

let the ball drop,

light the fireworks,

shake the bells, 

blow the horns and whistles.

And also,

pray.

Like happy.

In whispers.

With singing.

In confidence.

And humbly.

Because,

"The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me;

Your steadfast love O LORD

endures forever"

Psalm 138:8

May we often pause between things, to say thank you and to say welcome.

May the memories/lessons from 2023 be the building blocks of strong things for 2024.

And may the new year be filled with the wisdom and purpose of God for you and yours.

In Need of Some Isaiah

I've lost track and I don't have the specific data for this, but I'm pretty sure most of you would confirm that the month of December, especially these last several days of it, has seen precious little sunshine.

Three remedies are in order I think.

One - Remember the summer.

I know it doesn't work this way in the science of it, but there does seem to me some 'storage' factor somewhere in my psyche when I'm out in the sunshine telling myself that I'm soaking up all the free Vitamin D. Don't worry. I'm taking actual supplements right now. But there's still seems to be residual cheering of my spirits when I bring to mind all those sunrise kayaks last spring and summer. Ahhhhh. Yessss.

Two - Light the candles!!!

Not unsupervised, of course, but if I'm lingering in any room for any period of time, I'm finding myself adding as much ambiance of flickering brightness as I can. Lucky for me, several folks know of my fondness for candles and I've been amply gifted this Christmas. This sweet little house and the tea light inside are from two different gifters. The tea light is one of a jar full, so I should be good for the rest of the winter! Little cheerleaders to chase away the dullness.

Three - Isaiah!

"Arise, shine, for your light has come,
and the glory of the LORD rises upon you.
See, darkness covers the earth
and thick darkness is over the peoples,
but the LORD rises upon you
and his glory appears over you.
Nations will come to your light,
and kings to the brightness of your dawn."
Isaiah 60:1-3

And while it might be tempting to think Isaiah was experiencing a dark Canadian winter, he is of course talking about spiritual darkness, and the need for light beyond ourselves, beyond even the sun, to come and bring bright hope.

It's what we just celebrated. "Light and life to all He brings" (Hark the Herald Angles Sing verse 3). And when Isaiah gets to the part where others are drawn to it ("nations will come to your light"), that's when I realize I have a similar happy task as the candles.

I'm tempted to break out into that old Sunday School chorus, "This little light of mine".... so I will. (Are you singing it in your head now?) Or at least make reference to the way we can all be this for each other. Not just in the dark days of winter, but okay, sure, yeah, right now.

Right now when the economy and the news kind of match the weather. Right now when we need each other's hopeful joy, the hope and joy we receive from a God who is light, from a Messiah to came to show the way, from a Spirit who burns brightly within us.

So happy, hopeful, Isaiah-bright Friday dear friends.
Soon we'll be welcoming a bright new year full of possibilities.

(And if the song lingers in your head a little, that's okay too.)

Full On in the Other Direction

Spending some time over these quieter days with candles lit, the fire on, snuggled into the couch with a good book, or four.

To be honest, the fall has been rather intensive, and not so inclined for reading, so my soul is welcoming these rainy afternoons like a parched lawn after a long drought.

As is usually the case, I have about four new reads going on at once. Sorry-not-sorry in advance for the onslaught of quotes that are likely to happen over the new weeks.

Today I got a start on Brian Stiller's book on leadership called "Find a Broken Wall." Not surprisingly to those familiar with Old Testament leadership examples, he's opening up Nehemiah's story to bring forward some intriguing 'ancient principles for 21st century leaders.'

I'm really liking his launching point. His first principle is about opportunity in chaos, and the counterintuitive move downward.

"Instead of searching for the good places, rewarding salaries and benefits, popular communities and nice people, look for rundown, bankrupt communities in need of someone to lift and lead."

Brian Stiller - Find a Broken Wall (2012)

Seems this could be a good approach for any of us, not just those in charge of something. Just go look for the broken walls, the less than desirable, the weak and weary, and do something good in that mess.

For more than one reason, this reminds me of those who did that for me. The leaders and mentors in my life who somehow saw the opportunity in my own chaos of growing, and invested in me in ways undeniably life-transformative.

In fact, some of the first ministry mentors I ever had were under the leadership of Brian Stiller himself, back in the 70s, as he 'lifted and led' other leaders in Toronto at Youth For Christ. I cut my ministry teeth in that environment, and I am utterly grateful.

I was not a glamourous project, believe me. Many might have overlooked the awkward, struggling young adult woman at the beginning of what would not have looked like a ministry future with a whole lot of potential. If all those around me at the time were seeking after the big salaries and other signs of success, I would not be here today, doing what I do.

It's such a temptation, really. If we're honest, we all have to admit to some form of it. The upward draw of what it looks like to have 'arrived,' to be able to impress our peers, to have all the boxes of 'accomplished' checked off.

But to turn around and look downward for that broken wall, that broken spirit, and invest there instead -- that's driven by something else - something more true, I think.

I'm being pressed into this more this coming year, I believe. Feels like a recurring theme of late, of being drawn into a space of shedding off the outward symbols of success, such as I might define it.

Not exactly sure where it might take me, and I'm hoping I'm up to the challenge. But I'm glad for the companions along the way, and the beautiful hearts God's placed in my life to guide me --- all the way from way back then, up until now.

Just a Little Longer

 

There's something uniquely hushed about the 'after Christmas' space. At least it's like that at our house.

Before Christmas there's all the anticipatory celebrations, the build up, the lovely, happy getting-ready of it all.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning is all 'yay and hooray' in the bigness and brightness of it all.

And then comes that quiet space, when we the light the candles and listen to Christmas music and eat chocolate, do a new puzzle, read that new book for a bit, and maybe even get ourselves up off the couch and go for a walk. Or not. That's the point. No expectations. No where to be but at home. Nothing to do, just be.

For sure, more family dinners are yet to happen for us this year. We've made it a practice to simplify our complicated holiday schedules by pacing it out and letting the whole week be open for the comings and goings of being together.

But more often than not, and now quite intentionally, the last part of Christmas Day, and today especially, Boxing Day, is protected as 'just one more day' to 'lie still' - like the little town of Bethlehem itself.

I linger here.

It's quiet here.

Like those first quiet hours for Mary, I expect. When the labouring was done and the Baby was joyfully welcomed. Then washed, and wrapped, and nursed until He was all sleepy. And the shepherds were gone. And there was nothing left to do but just be quiet together, this new little family.

Treasuring up. Pondering.

"But Mary treasured up all these things,
and pondered them in her heart."
Luke 2:19

I need this. It's been an amazing and/but intensive fall.

December's return/recovery has taken a bit more time than usual.

Christmas has been lovely and a little different.
The New Year holds some new things.
Things to do, places to go.

But.

Not today.

For My Highview Peeps (A message from your Missionary in Residence)

- A message from your Missionary in Residence -

[These inadequate words go out to all those who consider themselves a part of the faith community that calls themselves Highview Community Church. I include those who have moved away, or for other reasons no longer gather with us on Sundays or other times. All of you, by virtue of having travelled together in some way for any length of time, have been an essential part of my spiritual life. I wouldn't be who I am today without you.]

Us sentimental types get even more so around this time of year.

I think it's the rituals and traditions, and having repeated them with the same people in similar ways over and over again. Or maybe it's how the Advent season itself gives us opportunities to stop and reflect on all the blessings of God on our lives, and how that can't help but involve big feelings about the people important in them.

I have big feelings about you.

I sure hope you know that already. I hope you've heard it before from me. And I hope that the way I engage with all of you, as part of a worshipping congregation, and in personal conversation, and even in my role as Missionary in Residence, manifests my overwhelming respect and affection all year long.

But just in case, and in this sentimental space, I wanted to say it again, and let you know again just how incredibly grateful I am that I have the privilege of journeying together with you.

You have taught me so much; about myself, about community, about Jesus. About what it means to live out grace and not just talk about it. About what it means to forgive. About what it means to put aside self and serve God together for a bigger purpose.

I love how you continually put your own personal agendas on the backburner in order to come alongside brothers and sisters in places far away to 'be the hands and feet of Jesus' in tangible, life-changing ways. I love you for your selflessness, for your persistence, for your faithfulness.

My heart is reflected in the words of Paul to the Church at Thessalonica, in the greetings and affirmations he gives in his opening to the first letter he wrote to them.

"We always thank God for all of you and continually mention you in our prayers. We remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labour prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ."

1 Thessalonians 1:2-3

Yes, all of that! Pretty much sums it up for me.

We are not a perfect church. I know this for a fact because I am part of it. In bearing one another's burdens we inevitably hear each other's confessions. May God give us the strength and grace to keep on becoming more and more like Jesus in all the ways we so badly need Him to grow us.

But for all of that, that we are so honest about what's wrong with us, I love you all the more.

And this Christmas, may you know without a doubt that you are loved, that you belong, that God is with you...

and that I count it one of my life's greatest gifts to be part of this community of faith with you.

Christmas blessings to you all.

May we see the goodness of God together in the New Year.

Christmas Eve Eve

Can I just say? I'm just claiming this as the white Christmas they said wasn't going to happen. So what if it's a few days off? This is good enough, especially since I wasn't here for the November snow fall, making this is my first real snow of the season.

And then, I really don't have any place to be until much later this afternoon when Ken and I will head down to prep a pre-show snack for the Cast and Crew of Let It Be Christmas at Highview. (Sorry folks, both shows are fully booked.)

Between now and that happy thing, I have the luxury of spending most of the day in the family room with the fire on. Okay, laundry, sweeping and bathrooms are on my weekly Saturday to do list, so I'll get to all that. But with so much going on with Saturdays all month, and because I was able to get everything nicely checked off last week's list, being able to stay home for most of today feels like a lovely gift.

In all of this, and with the space to reflect, I am mindful of other realities (some of it in news just received yesterday) that could, if I let them, make me forget that the harder things of life are why He came in the first place. Being fully present in the moment means holding all things in a sort of tension; the quiet beauty, against the noise of suffering.

Either way, gratitude is the place it takes me.

Glad for the right now of it.

This Christmas Eve Eve.

Here it Comes

 

After a week that has been "comparatively quieterish", today marks the beginning of a string of days that will be filled with everything Christmas and wonderful and somewhat busier.

I'm ready.

Tonight is the full dress rehearsal for our annual production of "Let it Be Christmas", the nativity told through the music of the Beatles. Yes, you heard that right. We've been doing this for nigh unto 15 years in a row (COVID notwithstanding) and the response has been so positive, we just keep on doing it.

I'd give you all the deets and a hearty invitation, but both shows, Saturday and Sunday night, have been fully booked for weeks already. That's a bit of news that has spurred on our cast and crew in the final days of prep, wanting to bring our best to the performance so that the story of God's "unspeakable gift" can be told with both excellence and joy.

Of course then, Saturday and Sunday are the performances, with a Christmas Eve celebration afterwards.

Then Christmas morning in all it's glory.

And then a few days of lovely mid-week quiet before things pick up again with grandchildren and sisters-in-law and various and Sunday meals and times together over the New Year's weekend.

And that's how it will roll out for us this year.
At least, that's the plan.
And it's a good one this year, I think. A good balance of all the big and happy, with all the quietly joyful. With time to stop and be still in the middle of it all.

I've been reflecting more on our Thai family, and what it would be like to celebrate Christmas in a culture where it has not also become a secular holiday. As I've mentioned previously, our children will go to school Christmas morning.

My first response is to feel a strong sense of disappointment for them. But then I wonder, would it make Christmas all that much more spiritual, more meaningful, without all the extra we've layered onto it?

These thoughts will guide me, I think, over the next few days.

Does it feel like Friday?
If you're finishing school for a little bit, I'm sure it does.
If you're off for an extra long weekend, I'm sure it does.

So happy Friday-before-Christmas everyone.
However the holidays are rolling out for you,
I wish you meaningful moments filled with all you need
to know you are safe and loved.