Season of Salt

  “Salt is good for seasoning. But if it loses its flavor, how do you make it salty again? Flavorless salt is good neither for the soil nor for the manure pile. It is thrown away.” Luke 14:34-35

  I had an epiphany this morning, finally understanding the significance of this parable.

  Salt is very good at killing green things. Ask anyone from Ontario who, come spring, has strips of brown, shriveled grass beside the path to the house. All because salt is often used to get rid of icy, treacherous footing.

  The only thing that seems to survive this annual abuse is dandelions. Maybe that’s because their roots run deep, well below the contaminated soil. New soil needs to be put down and new grass seeded in order to renew the lawn unless you like dandelions. (I know the local bunny does.)

  In this day and age of chemical fertilizers and intensive agriculture, the manure pile has been mostly delegated to myth. Yet, it was at one time crucial to successful farming. Crops thrived on ground spread with composted manure. In fields planted season after season, it was vital to add this natural fertilizer.

  Smile. I guess it’s still around because we urbanites can buy it by the bag at the local plant nursery.

  Salt, tasteless or not, is not a good addition to the manure pile. It would cancel out the benefits of adding natural nutrients to the garden.

 

  What an odd topic to be writing about…but I think I understand what Jesus is alluding to: flavorless faith. Nothing will grow in it. Nothing will grow from it. Nothing will grow around it.

  But, even though Jesus asks the question, “How do you make it salty again?” In Christ, this is possible.

  It’s called repentance.

  I used to squirm with discomfort every time I heard the word, repentance. That was before I fully understood what it meant. For Christians, it means to turn away from anything that keeps us apart from God. No guilt. No shame. Just a fresh start.

  “There is more joy in heaven over one lost sinner who repents and returns to God than over ninety-nine others who are righteous and haven’t strayed away!” Luke 15:7

  And I think that says it all. AMEN!

  PS: On a personal note, the contractor arrived this morning to begin setting things up. Yay!

  I had my echo cardiogram yesterday and am adorned with a Holter (not Holtz) monitor to keep an eye on my heart over the next couple of days. I have a conference with a cardiologist in a couple of weeks. So pleased everything happened so quickly. Thank you for your prayers!

  

  

Looking the Wrong Way

  “So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children.” Romans 8:15

  This is a message I needed to hear this morning.

  Is a fearful slave the same as being a slave to fear?

 

  (A long pause.)

  Is that what I am?

 

  I ended up at the hospital last Wednesday. My heart has been doing a rather disconcerting, chest hammering, thumpity-thump-thump and my left arm was sore. It was unusual enough and persistent enough that it seemed wise to get it checked out. There were no signs of a heart attack and my blood work came back “pristine” to use the doctor’s words. But, my blood pressure is very high. I am waiting to hear from a local diagnostic centre to have an ultrasound done to my heart as well as getting hooked up to a Holtz monitor for a couple of days. It will keep track of my heartbeats to see if there is any irregularity.

  While waiting to be seen, I did some research into chronic anxiety relating to high blood pressure and heart disease. Not surprising but there is a connection.

 

  Today’s words that have come through loud and clear are “self doubt.”

  So let’s combat that nasty with a declaration.

  I can trust in the abilities God has blessed me with regarding all the renovation decisions, colour choices and design.

  I can trust the abilities of the contractor God led me to. I can trust the person who referred her to me.

  I can trust in the skills I have learned to do what I need to do. I can release the idea they all need to be accomplished NOW. I am not a professional. The tasks can take as much time as needed. In light of the blood pressure thing, slow and steady is the best way to go.

   I can take a break and rest as needed. (I’ve been struggling with fatigue, another symptom of high blood pressure. It’s also a sign of feeling overwhelmed by the chaos in the house.)

  The chaos is temporary.

  I can ask for help. And after I finish today’s post, I will do just that. I need to get some help moving the washer and dryer. I had thought to simply pull them out of the way so the new floors could be installed but they would still be in the way of painting unless they are taken out of the renovation zone entirely.

 

  All these recent events have made me feel distant from God. Worldly thoughts, decisions and self doubt have overpowered my faith. Fear has had my ear instead of the Holy Spirit. Thank You Lord, for providing the awareness that this is what is happening. When my eyes and heart are on You, there is no room for fear. Forgive me, Lord, for not reaching out to You yet again. Thank You for patiently pointing this out to me every time old, fear filled habits take over.

  And that’s the best declaration of all: I am not alone.

 

A New Perspective

    “So he (Jesus) got up from the table, took off his robe, wrapped a towel around his waist, and poured water into a basin. Then he began to wash the disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel he had around him.” John 13:4-5

  When He was finished, He got dressed again and sat back down at the table.

  What an incredibly human moment. I have often removed my “good” clothes to keep them from being soiled while tackling a particularly dirty job. 

  But I think Jesus’ actions have a much greater significance. He took off His robes, not out of care that they would become soiled, but as a symbolic representation of what was to come; when His robes would be stripped from His battered body and He cleansed the world from the power of sin by laying down His life.

  He dried their feet as well, taking care that the towel was kept clean by keeping it wrapped around His body instead of simply laying it on the floor beside the basin.

  

  I think of the roads I have traveled, the paths of sin I have followed or been led along willingly or unwillingly. I think of the places my feet have taken me that were so far removed from God and I was utterly lost.

  But I have a God that sees beyond all this. I have a God who helps me see beyond all this and live a better life. All because of a basin full of new beginnings and the humble grace of Jesus. This new life has happened because Jesus wrapped a towel of forgiveness around my soul.

 

  An odd thing has popped into my head. The expression, “throwing in the towel” has come about because of wrestling matches. It is a symbol of surrender. When one participant could no longer fight, the towel would be thrown into the ring. The match was over.

  God never will throw in the towel. It’s why Jesus wrapped it around Himself. AMEN!

A Bit of a Bunny Trail

  The Lord said…”But Nineveh has more than 120,000 people living in spiritual darkness, not to mention all the animals. Shouldn’t I feel sorry for such a great city?” Jonah 4:11

  I am wrestling with God’s destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah versus the sparing of Nineveh. The first two infamous cities were destroyed without warning because of their depravity; at least, no warning has been recorded in Scripture except for Lot and his family…

 

  Smile. Once again it would appear the Lord is taking me on a different track than the one I thought I was on. While reading the story of Sodom, I came across this passage. It leapt off the page. Lot is protecting God’s angels in his home from the crowd of men lusting after them.

   “See, now I have two daughters who have not known a man; please, let me bring them out to you and you may do to them as you wish; only do nothing to these men.” Genesis 19:8

  Maybe I am reading this from a twenty-first century perspective but I was shocked by this father’s offer to sacrifice his daughters to the mob. What sort of a father would do that?

  But…there is nothing in Scripture that does not reflect the heart of God or point to Jesus.

  Isn’t this exactly what God did? Offered His Son as an innocent sacrifice to protect all that is good and holy?

  Lot’s daughters were spared because the men in the mob weren’t swayed from their original purpose. Because of their violent determination to get to God’s angels, the mob made of both small and great men, were blinded.

  The angels took Lot, his wife and daughters by the hand and led them out of town.

  Is this because Lot was willing to offer anything to protect God’s messengers? Not that they actually needed protecting, these messengers of God were well able to look after themselves.

 

  God destroyed the two cities because there had been an outcry against them. Those who were suffering had turned to God. What happened to those people? Did they live there? Were they destroyed alongside the wicked?

  When I was in college, a group of us were walking up Yonge Street in Toronto after school. A young man was on the sidewalk, weeping and pleading over and over again, “Won’t somebody please help me?” I can still hear him to this day.

  Maybe it was the “please”. Maybe it was the utter despair in his voice that made me stop and ask what was wrong. (Having a group of friends nearby and the fact it was broad daylight on the busiest street in Toronto was a deciding factor as well.)

  “I just want to go home.” The tears poured down his face.

  Long story short, he was from a small town up north. He and a friend had come to Toronto to explore the big city. They had naively ended up in a bar that wasn’t the sort of place the average person would feel safe entering. I believe someone slipped something into their drinks. He ended up separated from his friend and had been trying for hours to get a passerby to help him.

  The help he wanted was to be told where the bus station was. So that’s what we did. My friends and I led him to the station that was less than a couple blocks away. He couldn’t thank us enough.

  Afterwards, my friends gave me heck for taking such a risk in talking to a stranger yet to this day I do not regret my decision.

  Did this same thing sort of thing happen thousands of years ago in Sodom and Gomorrah? Minus the bus station of course. Were these the people who cried out against these places and their people? Those whose innocence and naivety was used to take advantage of them?

  No wonder they cried out.

  I may have shared that particular anecdote before but I feel it has helped me understand God’s heart in this.  If I can take pity on one man, God’s pity, His compassion, is a gazillion times greater than my own. When we say please, when we humble ourselves, God listens. AMEN!

Much To Think About

  “Then the sailors picked up Jonah and threw him into the raging sea, and the storm stopped at once! The sailors were awestruck by the Lord’s great power and they offered him a sacrifice and vowed to serve Him.” Jonah 1:15

  As we listened to Sunday’s teaching, part of a series for the next few weeks on the Book of Jonah, I scribbled down a couple of questions.

  As the storm battered the ship and the crew grew desperate, why did Jonah have to be thrown into the sea?

  Why didn’t he jump overboard?

  The sailors had begged God not to let them die for Jonah’s sin. They asked God not to make them responsible for his death yet here they are, having to throw him overboard. But Jonah didn’t die did he? He was swallowed by a great fish for three days and three nights.

  One of the reasons for the significance of this very short Book is because of how it parallels or foreshadows the life of Jesus. This is a comment I have read or heard several times but I don't think that's where God is leading me this morning.

  Having got this far, I have paused to read the entire story seeing as I am not overly familiar with it. My only awareness of Jonah’s story was that he was swallowed by a whale and God saved him. There is a strong possibility I had some aspects of the story mixed up with the childhood tale of Pinocchio. He was swallowed by a whale and became a real boy by saving his father from the belly of the beast. (Smile.)

  Jonah’s story began when the Lord gave him a message to take to Nineveh. Jonah ran from the responsibility of telling the Ninevites they had been judged by God for their wickedness. Following all his misadventures, he eventually agreed to obey God.

  The people of the city repented of their evil ways. God spared them. Jonah was really ticked off by this because to be a prophet whose prophecy doesn’t come to fruition wasn't good. He asked God to take his life because he felt it wasn’t worth living! Then he went and built a shelter and sulked all the while watching what the Lord would do to Nineveh.

  The thing that leapt out as I read was God’s own question, “Is it right for you to be angry?” He asked Johah this on two separate occasions.

  It has caused me to reflect on when anger gets the better of me; when anger becomes a raging sea that threatens to overwhelm me.  Is my anger rooted in ego or righteousness? It bears some thinking about.

  What is righteous anger?

  Smile.

  I doubt I am the first person to ask that question.

 

  Hmmm…righteous anger has room for grace as God so clearly demonstrates time after time. It is, after all, why Jonah was saved by the big fish. It is also why God sent him to Nineveh in the first place.

  And that, my friends, is something to think about. AMEN!

So It Begins

  “Do your planning and preparing your fields before building your house.” Proverbs 24:27

  The planning has been done.

  The fields, or my driveway, have the excavation site spray painted and marked with flags.

  There is a fair bit to do inside yet but the crunch is on to get it done because the renovations start Tuesday or Wednesday. That’s a full two weeks earlier than I had expected so there is much to do this weekend.

  I am also going to give fair warning that blogging may be sporadic over the next little while because I am involved in doing a couple of projects of my own. This may have been shared before but it helps to keep my thoughts organized by writing it down. Hmmmm…is this me making a list?

  All the painting is my job. I will be doing the mudding and taping of the new drywall in the addition prior to painting that area. Closet doors will be built to match the ones in the master bedroom. I will be framing and installing the pantry door. The kitchen table is already redesigned. It just needs to be rebuilt and painted.

  I think I have purchased everything the contractor will need with the exception of a couple of things. Seeing as my contractor is swinging by on Monday, she will be able to answer any questions.

  Confirming that the wiring will be run for a vanity light in the bath has to happen before buying a light fixture.

  I need to know how wide the space is above the stove. Depending on the size, it may or may not require a new hood vent.

  Then there are the large items: stove, dishwasher, tub and toilet. There is some time to order those because these purchases can be organized to arrive once the cabinets are installed and the bathroom gutted.

  I also want to talk to my contractor about moving the washer and dryer. Because they are stacked, the washer weighs a good 350 pounds. It’s filled with cement to stop it from tipping. What I would like to do is build a platform with two by fours that run perpendicular to the floor joists. This should have been done when the machines were installed because it helps absorb sound and vibrations. I will build the platform. I just need some strong bodies to move the machines out of the way then lift them up on to it once the platform is in place.

  I think that’s it although there is bound to be some things I have overlooked. But that’s okay. I am as prepared as I can be. (Smile.)

  Lord, help me not be overwhelmed by the chaos. Fill me with patience and focus and the ability to go slow, one step at a time. In Jesus' name I pray, AMEN!

New Wineskin

  “…Jesus himself was suddenly standing there among them. ‘Peace be with you,’ he said.” Luke 24:36

  I could use some peace this morning. It was a night of dreams. One was a love dream. I’ve had them before where I was in the company of a man, talking, walking, holding hands, and having a coffee together. It was all so innocent and delightful. My heart ached with love for him and I felt safe; safer than I had ever felt before.

  I don’t know why I woke up. Maybe the intensity of the emotions was too much to bear. It’s not like it was a nightmare but the moment I opened my eyes, a deep and profound loneliness swept into my soul. A few tears trickled down my face as I realized it was all a dream and I was all alone. Very alone.

  So here I am, writing about it, still feeling the loss. There’s an empty space in my heart where love had filled it to bursting. The love ache has become one of deepest longing.

  It’s not the first time this particular dream has invaded my sleep. I am left wondering this morning if it is prophetic, that one day such a man will come into my life. Is it a promise from God? Or is it simply a need I normally lock away having a say? Only God knows for sure.

  The belonging longing. It’s how God made us. For each other.

  I have assumed the man in the dream was just a man, albeit a special one. Yet I am left wondering if I was dreaming of Jesus. Which brings about another admission, I know Jesus should be more than enough, that He never leaves me, but perhaps the dream is a confession that I long for some love, some companionship, with skin on it.

  Am I ready for such a relationship? I say no. And there’s a gazillion reasons…each and every one of them is rooted in fear. But such reasons have no place in the Kingdom of God.

  Lord, I lift all of this up to You, trusting You have my best interests at heart. Despite my fears, I offer up a willingness to at least consider the idea of having a man in my life. I trust You to guide me, lead me, and be with me as I let go of the fears…

  Hmmm…I’ve used fear to build a “safety cage”, a perimeter wall surrounding my heart. It’s far easier to maintain this than to open the door, to risk being hurt...to risk loving. I know it will take time for the practices of the last fifteen, solo, years to be broken. Grant me patience with the process.

  Lord, thank You for revealing the prison I have made for myself. Help me let go of the last shreds of bitterness and anger and fear. This particular wineskin has outlived its purpose! Let me forgive the men in my past that did such harm once and for all. Lord, set me free! AMEN!

Wineskins

  “And no one puts new wine into old wineskins. For the wine would burst the wineskins, and the wine and the skins would both be lost. New wine calls for new wineskins.” Mark 2:22

  A quick visit to Wikipedia explained what happens to old wineskins. Made from an entire animal hide, usually from a goat, they were stretched thin by the volume of liquid inside. The leather would also become brittle as wine continued its fermentation process. Using them for new wine risked bursting the hide.

  Why is it so important to save an old wineskin? If not for wine, was it reused to carry water or oil? Olive oil would “heal” brittle leather. So would butter. Milk and cheese were other items wineskins were used to transport.

  Considering the amount of work that goes into tanning leather, it would make sense for the wineskins to be used for as long as possible.

  So how does this parable fit as a metaphor for following Jesus?

  Perhaps Jesus is foreshadowing the Last Supper, when He gave us the gift of wine to represent the blood He shed for us. Our old skin, our sinful nature, would not be able to bear such a gift. If we didn’t believe Jesus was the Messiah, why would we partake of the Last supper anyways? Unless…

  Lord, I admit only You know what is in our hearts but I feel led this morning to lift anyone up to You who may simply be going through the motions of Christian religious practices and ritual.

  Dear readers, I ask you to pray with me because together our prayers will span the globe! Where one or two gather in Jesus’ name, He will be there with us.

  Lord, we pray You will bless all of us who pilgrimage to church on Sunday with new wineskins for a renewed and richer faith in Jesus Christ. For those of us whose wineskins are empty, may we be filled to bursting with the love You have for each one of us. This we pray in Jesus’ name, amen.

The Art of Being

 

“I (God) have given special skill to all the gifted craftsmen so they can make all the things I have commanded you to make.” Exodus 31:6

  I have to thank my pastor for leading me to this chapter in the Bible where God has begun organizing His people to build the Temple and all its requirements. He told me in his email that Bezalel, the master craftsmen in charge of all the other craftsmen, was one of only two people in the entire Old Testament whom God anointed with the Holy Spirit. The other was the prophet, Ezekiel.

  I spent a fair bit of the camping trip immersed in drawing, trying to capture the essence of Killbear Provincial Park. My motivation is a combination of gratitude for God’s creations as well as rising up to a challenge. The pen and ink drawings were far more successful than the watercolour sketches except for a deer drawn from memory that had a striking resemblance to a donkey. Smile. It happens. I haven’t quite figured out the colours needed to capture the massive banks of pink/orange/peach granite that fold into the navy/purple water’s edge.  

  Many a person has told me how much they wished they had my talent but this morning has opened my eyes another notch. The talent, the innate ability to draw is a gift. The Holy Spirit fuels the passion, the dedication to improving my craft. The Spirit is what enables me to stay still and focused on the task at hand.

  In the deepest moments of concentration, I disappear and become one with the drawing. The page becomes my world. In that moment, past, present and future become nonexistent. I have always called it, “Being in the zone.” But that idea has been reframed because I realize now this happens because I am at one with God through the act of creating.

  It also explains why I have used art as a way of grounding myself when the anxiety is bad. It enables me to over-ride my inner turmoil to sense the presence of God. I also now understand why I was able to use the art as a form of prayer when words failed me. My doubt about whether or not this was “right” has been put to rest.

  Maybe this is also why I have such a passion to teach. It’s so others can experience God, the Creator, through the act of creating.

  There were a couple of young girls at the beach who politely asked if they could see what I was painting. I’d already had a lengthy conversation with the older girl as we paddled in the swimming area. She kept asking me if she was bothering me by talking. Not at all!

  I’d just started a watercolour sketch of a cloud dotted sky, the rippling water and the illusive pink granite from the comfort of my camp chair. They were curious about the paints and asked if they could watch what I was doing. I took a moment to explain how they worked when the paper was wet or the effect if the paper was dry. They asked why I wasn’t using an easel. Good question! My paper was taped to the back of the paper pad to prevent it from blowing away.

  Their mother was sitting beside us, listening. Her girls were filled with excitement to try painting with watercolours. She thanked me for taking the time with them but I have to admit, seeing their eagerness to explore this art form was all the thanks I needed.

  Who knows, one of them might be the next Leonardo Davinci. AMEN!

 

All Things Bright and Beautiful

  “Then God looked over all he had made, and he saw that it was good!” Genesis 1:31

  I’ve been watching a micro-drama unfold amongst the blooms of the Black Eyed Susan patch beside the back door. It involves a pair of one of the most feared creatures on God’s earth. Yup. Spiders.  One measures around two inches from leg tip to leg tip. She is a Yellow Garden Spider or to be scientific, an Agriope aurantia. The other is a tiny White Cross Spider, Araneus diadematus, barely bigger than my pinky fingernail. She’s too small to get a decent photo.

  It would appear the larger garden spider is rather possessive of the prime territory afforded by the flowers. During the last two nights, she has moved her web twice to the spot in the flowers where the smaller spider had spun hers, forcing the smaller one to move. I suppose it is move or be eaten.

  While I don’t particularly like spiders, my son’s passion for the creepy creatures has given me an appreciation for their other worldly beauty. I do like the fact they are mosquito eating machines. They are also non-poisonous.

  I can also freely admit I like them as long as they don’t sneak up on me. (Smile.)

 

  A young frog has moved into the pond as well; another welcome addition to the anti-mosquito movement. Before going away I had been watching for them to appear because every summer at least one or two take up residence amongst the lily pads. They vanish when the cold weather rolls in.

  I’ve also seen a couple of wood frogs in the flower beds. I’d recently learned they freeze solid in the winter unlike their watery cousins. Their heart stops but there is some sort of natural antifreeze in their blood that prevents it from freezing. Come spring, as the ice withdraws, they thaw out and begin living their froggy lives as though winter never happened.

  Scientists are investigating these abilities in a quest for new heart medicines.

 

  My home is in a valley. No matter what direction I am heading, there are high places on the road where the view is magnificent, overlooking the entire valley. The view is a patchwork of farm fields scattered with clusters of trees. The dead straight road soars into heaven at either end, vanishing into the sky. Toss in a sunset when I am heading north, when mauve shadows reach across the earth, it is so beautiful it takes my breath away.

  Lord, thank You for all You have made. Thank You for giving me the eyes to see and the heart to rejoice in all Your wonders, big and small. AMEN!

Safe at Home

  “Praise the Lord; praise God our savior! For each day he carries us in his arms.” Psalm 68:19

  I apologize for not letting my readers know I would be away. I am home now from camping in Killbear Provincial Park, earlier than planned. This was unexpected but the brakes failed on the car Thursday afternoon.

  The day before, we had spent a lovely day hiking, swimming in Georgian Bay, having a picnic and paddling around in the kayak. I even had a chance to do a couple of water colour sketches and was absolutely delighted when a small, golden butterfly landed on my paint palette. It had been attracted by the bright yellow paint block!

  Thursday morning it rained, curtailing any activity except for the need to head out of the park to buy ice for the cooler. We were blessed to see a young buck grazing at the side of the road on the way out of the park. Coming back, the car brakes started to act up. They got soft, my foot pushing the brake pedal to the floor before getting any response. The red warning light for brake issues lit up the dashboard. It was enough of a concern that when we got to our site, I started making phone calls to local garages. (Thankfully there was cell phone reception!)

  It ended up that the earliest anyone could fix the car would have been next Friday. We had neither food nor transportation to make extending our stay possible. I don’t  know if our site would have even been available. Moving everything would have been difficult to say the least.

  I called my own mechanic here at home to see if there was something I could do that would fix the brake issue. Previously, small things had happened to the car that I was able to fix with their assistance. There wasn’t anything they could do about the brakes.

  So here’s why I am so thankful the brakes failed when they did. Firstly, we weren’t speeding along on the highway. Had the brakes failed then, it could have been disastrous if not fatal. I shudder at the thought. Instead we were putt-putting along at the 20 km speed posted in the park. The brakes worked long enough to get the car parked on site.

  My folks had given me a birthday gift earlier this year: CAA roadside assistance with a 200 km towing distance. My home garage was in and around that distance mark. The tow truck driver waived any overage charges.

  As I packed my travel wallet before we left home, I had felt a strong need to make absolutely sure the CAA card was included. Praise God!

  Ah, yes, I am very thankful for the tow truck driver and the company he worked for. On Thursday I had called Constables Towing in Parry Sound thinking they might be able to fix my car. They couldn’t, only being a towing company, but they were affiliated with CAA so they would be the ones towing me home. I called them a couple of times. Once to let them know I would need them for a long haul and the other time to make sure they could fit two passengers in the truck. (CAA would only guarantee the card holder’s transportation.) Oh, and I also wanted to make sure they would take the car with a kayak strapped to the roof.

  I don’t know what we would have done if Constables could have only taken one of us home. There are bears in the park so leaving a cooler or any foodstuff out is dangerous. A person wouldn’t want that sort of thing in the tent! It’s a moot point, but I am grateful it didn’t end up being an issue. Either that or I would have needed to go back once the car had been dropped off. God spared me that, too. Friday traffic heading north is a nightmare!

  Yesterday morning there was no dew. Despite Thursday morning’s torrential rain, and thanks to a good stiff breeze, we didn’t have to wait for tarps or tents to dry off before packing them up. Farmers say that no dew in the morning means rain by nightfall.

  Once the car was packed on Friday morning and CAA called, Constables towing called a couple of times to let me know the timeframe and even to let me know when the truck had left Parry Sound. The city is roughly a half hour from the park. They didn’t have to do this because CAA informed me, too. It meant a lot, having the personal touch in a stressful situation.

  I got to enjoy the scenery on the drive home far better than when I am driving. We were sitting way up high in a big truck with a huge windshield. That and I didn’t have to watch the road!

  My car, with the kayak on top, has been locked in the garage for the weekend. I had been concerned someone would steal the kayak because it was merely strapped to the roof, not locked. And even though I hadn’t thought to pray about it, God knew my concern and once again I sing His praises!

  H. pointed out to me when all was said and done, I had handled the crises very well, what with making all the calls to organize and assess what needed to happen.  I give praise and honour to God for sustaining me and guiding me on what to do next.

  As a final, delightful, piece of this story, two deer wandered past our site on Thursday evening. I had had my artist’s eye on a massive, ancient birch that lay on the ground, having wanted to draw or paint it since we had arrived. All that was lacking was a reason for drawing it, a focal point. One of the deer wandered up to it. I got a photo of her next to the downed, art inspiring tree. While we waited for the tow truck, I had plenty of time to do a rough sketch of the tree and was able to add the deer into the drawing because of the photo.

  Even though having our trip cut short was a bit disappointing, this adventure has only served to remind me that God is truly in all things. AMEN!

This Little Light of Mine

“And now I will send the Holy Spirit, just as my Father promised.”

  I get so excited when an idea bursts into my head! Especially when it is an answer to a prayer I didn’t know I was even praying!

  While our provincial parks are beautiful with their varied terrain, the wildlife, and the quiet, the campfire wood they offer is usually pretty lousy. It’s green or too old and half rotten. Because most of the parks are isolated and we are not allowed to bring our own wood from another part of the province to prevent the spread of invasive species, we have no choice but to work with what they have. Besides, the car is already full. There’s no room for wood anyways.

  But, and a great big smile for the best idea I’ve had in a long time! I have a nozzle that attaches to a small propane tank. It is used for soldering copper pipe. Part of our existing camp kit is small propane tanks for the camp stove. This means I have a mini flamethrower to get the wood burning!

  Mwahahaha! Take that wood!

  Is this type of inspiration the sort of thing the Holy Spirit is involved with?

  I say yes.

  Why?

  Because it is important, at least to me it is. It’s one of the best parts of camping. The nightly bonfire, the baked potatoes cooked in the ashes, the peace in watching embers glow and fall and make recognizable shapes. It’s a simple pleasure but a good one.

  Being inspired to bring along a blow torch is a sparrow moment.

  These little details, these little love-gift moments, have played a crucial role in my ability to trust God with the big stuff. They fuel the fire in my heart to want to learn to love Him better and to be the type of person He calls me to be.

  This leads me back to the question we were asked at church a while ago. A question I’ve been mulling over ever since, “Do I love God for who He is or do I love Him for what He can do for me?” I believe it can be both. Because what He does, has done, and will do is the perfect manifestation of who He is.

  And that being love in all the ways love manifests itself.

 

  Friends, something has changed. While I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, it is a good change. I find myself smiling more, laughing more. Despite the odd hiccup that my mom reminded me is simply part of life and not because I have PTSD. (Thanks Mom!) 

  Oh! Thank you Holy Spirit! I think my fear of emotions has finally been purged. Hmmm...didn't even realize I was afraid of them.

  That is what God has done for me. He gives me a blow torch and I give Him my heart.

Bitter Gall

      “The soldiers gave Jesus wine mixed with bitter gall, but when he had tasted it, he refused to drink it.” Mathew 27:34

  I had wondered what bitter gall was, having an idea it might have been some sort of body numbing, mind numbing substance. Immediately after it was offered and refused Jesus was nailed to the cross. A quick check on Google confirmed that bitter gall is basically a generic name for medicines derived from specific plants or snake venom with anesthetic properties.

  Did the soldiers offer it to Jesus out of kindness? It seems at odds with their previous conduct: the mocking, the robe, the crown of thorns. Or was this offering of bitter gall just the standard operating procedure at a crucifixion regardless of who was being crucified?

  These are grim thoughts this morning.

  Crucifixion was a grim practice and, sadly, we mortals are very good at finding ways of inflicting pain and suffering.

  But I have to reflect on Jesus’ choice. He was willing to experience the full agony of one of the cruelest ways ever invented by humanity to kill our own kind. May God have mercy on us.

  Why? Why did He refuse? Was it because He needed to be completely Himself in order to be the pure sacrifice He was born to be?

  These words with their gory, gruesome imaginings have stirred my heart in a direction I find surprising.  You know something? God already has been merciful. His mercy is so great He allowed His Son to die.

  I have always known this fact intellectually. This morning my heart is beginning to experience the full on emotional responses to God’s choice of mercy.

  Maybe that’s part of what love is. It isn’t always a happy feeling. Love can contain sorrow, grief, or pain. Love can exist despite these things or do these things exist because of love?

 

  I have run out of time this morning or perhaps this is where I am supposed to stop writing. There is much to think about. Although, I now realize an important facet of the Beatitudes, God’s blessings, found in Mathew 5. Every single one of them is because we allow ourselves to love and be loved.

  Perhaps there are places in my heart where bitter gall has numbed my ability to love fully and freely. (Smile.) No, there is no "perhaps" about it but I can joyously say that is changing. AMEN!

On the Farm

      “Yes, I (Jesus) am the gate. Those who come in through me will be saved. They will come in and go freely and will find good pasture.” John 10:9

  I am not sure if I fully understand this passage. Does it mean the sheep go back out of the gate freely or does it mean they will be able to go freely once the gate has been passed through? Isn’t a gate a passageway for multiple purposes? What’s on one side of a gate has as much purpose as what is on the other.

  We had sheep on the farm. In late spring, once the pastures had achieved ideal growth to sustain the flock through the summer, the gate would be opened daily to let them out for a day’s grazing. The first time each year the flock would skip and dance with the joy of their release and in uncontainable delight. They finally had fresh grass instead of hay. It always made me smile.

  Mid afternoon, the sheep would wander back though the open gate to the shade of the barn to drink, rest, and chew their cud. Once the heat of the day passed, they would head out again. At twilight I would call them back to the barn to be locked in for the night for protection against predators. They got a handful of sweet grain as a reward for coming when called.

  I had always read this passage with a black and white perspective believing that only what was on one side of the gate was good. I suppose this idea was readily enforced by fear and the concerned question, “Am I on the right side of the gate?”

   I don’t think that is what this metaphor is saying after all. I think it’s more important to realize that, through Jesus opening the way, we will find good pasture. We will be able to discern where the toxic weeds are. We will be able to find rest if that’s what we need.

 

  I have to give thanks, once again, for the farm and all I learned as a shepherd.

  As for cows? They were great at fence jumping. Closed or opened gates were readily ignored in their quest for my neighbour’s carefully manicured lawn even though we had plenty of pasture for them.

  Is there a lesson there? Yup. Cows may be smarter than sheep but shortcuts always landed them in trouble because they really, really ticked me off. Never mind that if the cows were on the road and a car hit them, I was responsible. They wouldn’t have known about that.

  Thank You, Lord, I can finally smile about this. AMEN!