Saint Nicholas

I used to have a passionate dislike for Santa Claus.

When I had my first baby, I suddenly saw Christmas through different eyes. Everywhere I looked there was the jolly old elf, when what I wanted to see was Jesus. Christmas is the celebration of Jesus' birth, and He was nowhere to be seen. Santa was on display in every store, and on the front of most Christmas cards. Kids were clamoring to sit on his lap and have their photo taken with him. How would I explain to my son why there was a Santa in every mall, when he was supposedly preparing for Christmas at the North Pole? I found it really odd that Santa Claus could see and know everything; characteristics attributable to God alone.

My initial response was to avoid everything about Santa...

When doing Christmas crafts with my friends, they made boxes with Santa; I chose to put an angel on mine. I didn't even want Santa ornaments on my tree, and I especially didn't want my children to believe in Santa Claus. So from a young age, they knew that Santa didn't deliver gifts on Christmas eve. Nevertheless, I also helped them to be sensitive to their believing friends.

Slowly my attitude towards Santa has changed...

I'm not so adamantly anti-St. Nick. In fact, I've embraced St. Nicholas, and now my family has adopted a tradition in his honour. Every December 6th we celebrate St. Nicholas Day. The morning starts early as my kids look to see what small gifts "St. Nicholas" has put in their stocking. Usually there is an orange, a candy, and a small toy like Playmobil. Later we take some time to remember the historical St. Nicholas, by reading books (I recommend Santa Are You For Real by Harold Myra), or listening to tapes.

Saint Nicholas was a real person, who became the Bishop of Myra (hence the red suit), around 300 AD. He was known for his love of children and his great generosity. One story tells how he secretly helped three sisters by providing the dowry money necessary to get married. The coins he threw through an open window fell into their stockings hanging to dry by the fire (hence hanging stockings by the chimney with care). Saint Nicholas exemplified many of the character qualities that Jesus desires for his followers, including being generous to others and giving to the poor.

So now I actually appreciate Santa. In our house we've reached a compromise. He has his day, and on December 25th, Jesus has His. We get to celebrate the good qualities of Saint Nicholas, have an extra day of fun, and still keep Christmas focused on Jesus.

Merry Christmas to all and all a good night!

Mary's Story

Join me in exploring the possible thoughts and setting of a Jewish teenage girl on the eve of a startling revelation that will change her story...and ours.

****
Mary lies on her mat the way she does every night.

Wondering...about many things.

Watching...the moonlight through a tiny window set high in the mud and mortar wall of her bedroom. Inhaling the blossoms of the olive tree fragrant in the humid night; the cumin and coriander that linger after the days cooking. Listening to the murmur of her parents' voices as they prepare for bed.

Remembering...the dust and noise of the market place where she chooses vegetables and fruit for the evening meal, the loom in the courtyard where she weaves cloth for the family garments and the spring-fed well where she meets other teenage girls who balance water jars on their heads while navigating the narrow laneways of their village.

Her mind shifts to the man she is engaged to marry in the coming year. A carpenter. How wonderful it will be to lay sheltered in his arms, to become his wife...

A smile forms on Mary's lips as she drifts in and out of sleep, thinking of God of the ancient scriptures, God who is eternal in his care for his people. Many times she overhears scholars discuss the prophecy of a Saviour who will bring spiritual renewal to the human race. A greatly anticipated event to transform their lives.

Gently her chest rises and falls, her thoughts yield to deeper sleep. Her dark hair falls across her face. What does she dream of ?

Is she restless for something less predictable than her routines? Does she ever sense that God might be preparing her for a special role in history? Perhaps, she is content to be a young woman with an ordinary life.

What was that? Mary's eyes flash open. Something has changed.

She listens. Rolls over. The moon has moved on. And yet light floods her room...

In the place where she earlier swept the mud floor stands Gabriel, an angel of the Lord.

"Greetings, you who are highly favoured! The Lord is with you."

Mary covers her mouth. What kind of greeting could this be? I am only a simple peasant girl.

"Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favour with God."

Is it really possible that God who created the heavens and the earth favours me?

"You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High."

Finally the young woman speaks. "How will this be since I am a virgin?"

"The Holy Spirit will come upon you and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.

"Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God."

With surprising surrender Mary opens her palms. " I am the Lord's servant. May it be to me as you have said."

Darkness once more fills the place where Gabriel stood and Mary's thoughts begin to race.

What have I agreed to? How could I yield to this mission unless God Most High gives me the faith to believe this miracle will come to pass. And faith to trust he will help me bear this responsibility.

She touches her abdomen. Like a gentle breath from heaven, God has sown the seed of his Son into Mary's womb. She is the virgin she read about in scriptures...

"Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel - God with us." Isaiah 7:14.

While the young woman waits for dawn to slip through her window she tries to grasp the miracle that has entered her body and simple life.

In the days that follow, Mary hurries off to confide in her cousin Elizabeth. When they see each other Mary's heart overflows in song...

"My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant..."

Despite her lowly position in life Mary knows she has been chosen by God's grace. The Son she carries will be her Saviour, as well as the Saviour for all nations.

****
God has transformed Mary's story.

This is the same God who calls each of us to trust him and receive his Son as our Saviour. His grace offers us enough faith to believe his promise of salvation is meant for us too. All a person needs to do is open her heart and accept God's gift.

Please Lord -- transform my story too.

[All dialogue in bold print above is taken from Luke 2. You may want to read the historical account in your bible or google the reference.]

The Kindness of Friends

You've heard that it takes a community to raise a child. This summer I found that it takes numerous friends to free up a mother of five.

In August, I was able to go on a missions trip team to Montreal with my oldest son. We worked with a church there to provide an English immersion program for one week. I served in the kitchen while my husband worked as an English "buddy" to the French participants. We had a great time, but couldn't have done it without all the help on the home front.

We were gone for nine days, and my husband didn't want to take holiday time from work when we weren't all together as a family. So what's a mother to do? Fortunately, I was able to call upon my friends to care for my remaining four children in my absence.

Karen was the first helper. She took care of my three youngest, for two days, while my husband was at work, even while she was entertaining company of her own. My kids had a marvelous time at her house.

Next was Laverne. She came to our home for two afternoons, played with the kids and made them lunch. Laverne was awesome, bringing crafts with her to ensure my kids had fun.

My friend, Myrna Lynn was gracious enough to take my daughter for two days and one night. Anna is the only girl in our family, and with me gone, she definitely needed some girl time. She also needed someone to brush through her long hair. It took Myrna Lynn an hour to get all the tangles out!

Still another friend, Connie gave my kids a fun day out at her acreage, playing with her kids. She even came into town to pick them up!

Our good friend, Sara was also very helpful. She took my middle son for most of the week, while he went to day camp with her son. He was able to be away from home overnight, with his good friend.

Last but certainly not least, my best friend, Murray, who is also my husband, filled in all the blank spots in the schedule. He made sure everyone ate regular meals, wore clean clothes, and got where they needed to go. He did double duty, as both mom and dad for the week.

These descriptions don't do justice to what my friends did for my children and for me. Since I wasn't here, I don't know exactly the details in what they did, but I do know that their care eased my absence for my kids, kept my husband from being overloaded, and freed me to serve. They extended great kindness to me and my family.

So it really does take a community to help raise my children. I'm fortunate to be part of a church community who helped my family, so that I, in turn could help others. They exemplified a verse from the Bible:

"Be kind and compassionate to one another." (Ephesians 4:32)

I thank God for blessing me with such faithful and kind friends.

Unexpected Friends

Friends may enter our lives at the most surprising times.

A friend need not be someone with whom you spend a lot of time. It may simply be a stranger whom God sends to meet a need for the moment.


Some friends will fulfill a brief purpose in your life and others will stay forever.

In our early years my husband, sons and I lived in a row of townhouses where we knew our neighbours by sight but not in a personal way.

I knew of Carol a few doors over but never tried to make her acquaintance - she worked nights as a cocktail waitress and I worked by day as an on call teacher.

One day while shopping in the dairy aisle of our local grocers, I noticed Carol standing nearby. I don't think she saw me and I was in a big hurry to get on with my chores. To be polite, however, I asked how she was doing.

But my mind raced ahead to the next errand.

"Actually, I am not doing very well," my neighbour said. "Last week I fell down the stairs and had a miscarriage."

Oh no! My heart cried out for her. I understood the grief of a miscarriage.

This encounter led to a casserole dinner, many cups of tea, life-altering conversations, prayers for healing, and a valued friendship.

When we moved to another province and I became critically ill, Carol wrote a tender poem and made a special trip to visit me in hospital. Through many moves and years, we have lost contact but our friendship remains a great blessing to me.

Many times I have been surprised by the different kinds of people who became my friends - but none as much as my brother Ken's best friend, Ron.

At twenty one I felt it was my duty to guide my younger sibling, so I told him I did not think Ron was a suitable buddy for him. He was loud, arrogant and liked to party. Ken turned the tables on me and challenged me to trust his judgement. "Make the effort to get to know my friend. "

"Alright," I sighed. "I will try." Anything for a brother.

Ken's friend and I took long walks and made frequent visits to the A&W. We all have certain expectations of how others should behave and live their lives. I discovered Ron was a person who did not let others squeeze him into their mould, mine included. I admired him for his strength of character.

When Ron left for an out of town job, he gave me his birthstone ring as a sign of respect and friendship. I felt honoured. Now my brother and I had a friend in common.

During Ron's absence he sent me thoughtful cards and letters. When he returned I discovered something unexpected. I missed his company and never wanted to be apart from him again.

The following year we married and today, 42 years later, I am still enjoying the company of the best friend a woman could wish for in a marriage.

Ron and I agree that it is our common commitment to God's leadership in our lives that makes it possible to remain devoted friends.

We pray for one another, stand up for one another, laugh at each others silly jokes, bring out the best in each other, and during the times we fail to do that, we depend on God to give us patience and kindness to get back on track.

Yes, God sends unexpected friends at the most surprising times. Some meet our need for laughter and recreation, others for comfort and support. But the best friend He has ever offered us is Himself. God is a forever friend who will never leave us nor forsake us. Through all seasons, He stands by to be dearer to us than the best friend on earth. When we give Him first place, he makes all our friendships go better.

A friend loves at all times.
Proverbs 17:17

A Friend for Tea and What that Means to Me

Since I love to write but am never really sure what to write about, a friend of mine gave me a topic to write on and then share at our next tea.  The topic was friendship.  In particular a question; What does friendship mean to you?  A very good topic.

I wrote it three times.  The first two were nothing short of a research paper on friendship.  They didn't cut it.  Friendship is too valuable of a topic; it needed to be from the heart.

One afternoon as we sat for tea and with trembling hands, I shared with her my answer to her question.  Here is a portion I would like to share with you...

Friendship.

Just looking at the word itself on the stark whiteness of a page, makes me think of a treasure. Something to be valued, cherished, something unique and special. If I had a treasure box of the things I hold dearest to my heart, friendship would surely be nestled with great care amongst my other treasures.

There was a time in my life when I longed for a real friend, someone who would see me for everything I really am, all the good and all the bad. All my pain and all my joy. Someone who was not afraid to call me out when I was wrong and encourage me when I was right. Someone who would be there to listen when I needed to talk. Someone who welcomed me into their life with unconditional love.  Someone who would allow me to be all of the same to them. These are all the things that friendship means to me.

I prayed for many years and through many tears for that friend.

God answered my cry, just as He promises He would.

"He will be very gracious to you at the sound of your cry.  When He hears it He will answer you..."
Isaiah 30:19


There was a second part to her question.  Would you rather have a few good friends or many friends? Another good question...

Not only did God answer my cries for that friend, He answered ten-fold.

"Now all glory be to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more that we might ask or think or imagine..."
Ephesians 3:20


Over time, very special people came into my life and have made a profound impact on who I am today. Each one brought, in their own way, something new and special to the meaning of friendship. I would not turn away someone whom I felt God was bringing into my life as a true friend. So can answer the question of how many? I am not in control of quantity, I am only in control of quality, of what I offer and what I am open to receiving from each person brought into my life. God has it in His hands who and how many He brings.


The origins of the word, friend, are stemmed out of the middle English language. From my limited English studies, this was a language that encompasses passion and holds value in its words. The origin of the word friend is 'to love'.

To me that really sums it up. Friendship is a continuum of love.  I love this bible passage which speaks to the value of relationships:


"Love one another with a genuine affection and take great delight in honoring one another."
Romans 12:10


Genuine love and honor - it sums up what friendship is to me.

I was delighted to take the time to then sit with my friend and tell her what she meant to me as a friend. A precious moment.

What does friendship mean to you? Do you have a friend in your life who needs to know today what they mean to you?  I encourage you to honor and love completely, those special people who are brought into your life. Your friends.

Worth in the Exhaustion...

I snapped.

"I'm so exhausted" I told my husband.

After several congested weeks with a jam-packed schedule, I was looking forward to a family get-away. A handful of days to enjoy the coastal sun & fresh air, afternoons of relaxed exploring, and lazy evenings of reading poolside at our hotel. But by the end of day one, the exhaustion of the previous 3 weeks boiled over. Instead of desiring a family vacation, I desired a hole to crawl into. A bed to catch my collapse.

"I can't do all of this. I'm tired, I'm drained, and I've got nothing left." I continued to sob.

I pouted over my parenting, and my lack of patience.

I complained about my inadequacies, and not being good enough.

I was ready to throw in my tattered towel.

But in the midst of my pity-party, God spoke to my heart...

This is worth the exhaustion.

They are worth the exhaustion.

I may not be able to be a supermom or a superwoman, and I may not be able to have my fairy-tale-family-vacation (without bickering daughters and complaints from the backseat). But this is what was needed for me to recognize something essential.

It's worth it.

The tears. The tired. The daily wondering if I'm a terrible mother.

They are worth it. My daughters.

If God, through all of my sin and selfishness, with my tendency to swing emotion from joy to drain, thankfulness to ungrateful, if through all of that, God thinks I'm worth the cost, then through Him I can find the strength to count the cost too.

I cost Him A LOT. Mockery. Blood. Death.

Jesus paid the greatest price for me. For us.

He is loving.

He is patient.

He is kind.

He is long-suffering.

He is all the things I need to parent well.

And it is worth it! They are worth it!

Becoming a Child Again

Do you ever wish you could be a child again? I do.

I look at my children and think that they have pretty good lives...

They are carefree and happy.

They have everything they need provided for them.

They lack nothing.

They don't have to question whether they'll have food or clean clothes.

They don't have to wonder how they're going to get to their next event.

They never wake up in the middle of the night wondering if the budget will stretch far enough.

They know they will be taken care of.

They have parents that they trust will take care of their every need.

I would love to be more like them, more carefree, less anxious.

And I really should be more like them because I do have a parent that cares for me. In fact, He takes care of me better than any parent on earth. God is my heavenly Father, and He has promised to provide everything I need.

Even better, He doesn't just provide for my needs, He wants to bless me with an abundant life. God doesn't want me to be anxious about anything. Instead of being anxious, He wants me to talk to Him about it, and He promises me peace in anxiety's place. He wants to replace my fears with trust in Him. He wants me to relax in His care.

God our Father cares so much that He doesn't just do this for me. God is so loving, He desires to do this for all of His children. He desires for you to be His child too.

You don't just have to wish to be a child again. You can be a child of God.

But to all who believed Jesus and accepted him, He gave the right to become children of God. (John 1:12)

Waves of Life

We ladies sit in our chairs, looking cool in matching hot pink tops.

At first glance one might think we are lounging at a spa, however, luxury is not our goal today. Each lady awaits her routine or first-time mammogram and ultra sound. Magazines and novels occupy our hands and minds, creating an illusion of indifference although we all probably feel some level of apprehension.

I recall the message I read earlier this day in my book of daily reflections. Peter, the spontaneous follower of Jesus, practically falls out of the boat in his eagerness to follow Jesus across the sea. But he panics when he remembers the waves around him. I can relate to Peter's panic. The waves distract me, too.

The book's author cautions the reader not to measure the waves, but to focus, instead on the light from Jesus himself shining across dark waters.

Think of it like this, have you ever noticed how the light looks when a full moon reflects on a river, a lake or an ocean?

It creates a shimmeringg path that holds you breathless. I have often stood at my window in the early hours after midnight to witness this same beauty.

On this morning as I am sitting in the breast cancer clinic, that image speaks something new to me. I must keep on following the light of God's love that reflects radiant across the waves of my life, calling me to entrust the outcomes to Him.

The height of the waves are not my concern. Let my heart trust God for that. My job is to follow Him with one step in front of the other.

A technician calls my name. She is warm and gentle as she turns my body to fit the machine and even though the squeezing and prodding can be uncomfortable, we laugh together at the absurd lengths we must go to get a good picture.

After another wait, the oncologist calls me into her office. She has good news. I have passed the test! Since a radical mastectomy twelve years ago, I have no further signs of cancer.

I am grateful for the One who holds me close and knows what lies ahead. With His help I can rest assured that whatever challenges may come next, I can safely follow Him across the waves of my life.

Waves will arise in all our lives.

Tell Jesus about the difficulties you face and let Him walk this path with you. Don't let fear distract you from your reality - the reliable love of the Lord. He is not afraid of anything. Accept the hand He offers and let your heart take courage.

Be of good cheer, it is I, do not be afraid.
Matthew 14:27

Walking Forward in Weakness

My legs shook. Goosebumps raced up my arms. Dizziness washed over me. It took all my effort just to remember to breath.

I couldn't feel my toes. My feel hurt in my heels. My mind raced, tying whatever logic I had left in knots. There was only one clear thought left in my mind.

What am I doing?

My eyes traced over the black letters printed uniformly on white paper and up to my audience. I hadn't said a word yet, and they already looked bored. A mother looking through her purse. A child pulling on his father's sweater. A teenager texting in the back. They were all waiting for me.

What am I doing?

But I didn't have a choice anymore. I couldn't back down now. I was here. The mic was in my hand. I had to do this...

What am I doing? Why are these people going to care what I say? Why should I speak to them? What if they just judge me?

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I shifted my weight, hoping to stabilize my shaking legs. Neither attempt worked.

Slowly, carefully, I started to read the words on the paper.

They were very important words to me, very dear to my heart. They outlined my walk with God, and how I had come to know the real God in heaven. They shared some of the deepest struggles I had had in faith, and some of the biggest mistakes I had made in regards to Christianity.

But to share it with all the people in front of me - that was terrifying. I had no idea how they would respond. Would they laugh at my pain? Would they look at me with disgust and shake their heads, condemning me for my struggles? Would they even care at all?

My legs didn't stop shaking the whole time I spoke.

When I finished, I felt two things: relief and dread. I was relieved that I was finished speaking, but dreaded having to face my audience later on.

Time was passing. The clock was ticking. I waited for the moment I would have to talk to all those people...

We all have struggles. We all have doubts in our faith. Have you ever experienced something, and then had the topic arise in a conversation? You thought about mentioning your experience, but kept quiet so you wouldn't be judged.

Or maybe you are struggling right now, and you want to reach out for help. But you won't, because you are afraid of the response you'll get.

Everyone is a walking story filled with different trials. But so often we bury our trials and snuff out our stories. We fear what others might think about us.

I feared what people would think of me.

Twenty minutes later I found myself in an embrace with a woman I didn't know. She thanked me for my story. She told me it had moved her. I smiled and thanked her, not sure what to say.

I received more hugs than I remember that day, more words of encouragement than I can count.

We're all scared we'll be judged. We're all scared to step out, to say what's really inside. We don't want to share our struggles. We don't want other people to know that we have weaknesses. But what we so often miss is that exposing those struggles and sharing what is inside can be the best way to connect with those around us. Sometimes we think that when our strengths shine through, others will be blessed through us. But that's not usually the case. Our weaknesses, our honesty, can be more of a blessing to others than our strengths.

Stepping out and speaking up is risky. Sometimes we might be judged. Sometimes we might be frowned upon. But by exposing our secret struggles, we give others the chance to be blessed in theirs. I know that in my darkest days I could have been blessed by someone exposing a similar struggle. Now by starting to expose my struggles I want to be a blessing to others.

Unmasking

There are more than a few who know me well enough to decipher a fake smile from a real one.

Behind the glistening pearly whites they see the awkward curl of my lip which indicates something is off. Or rather, something is on. A mask.

The one I wear in a laid back smile and a world of hurt behind my eyes.

Why do we often default here? Into hiding.

"Stop it, you don't need to fake it." They simply know when to call my bluff. That's friendship.

There is a beauty in living authentic that cannot be masked or covered up. A honest beauty that cries to be seen.

Once people know the real you, the counterfeit is easy to spot.

It stands out. Highlighted.

And grace makes it all possible.

Grace unlocks the heart from being bound to living free, because our true identity is found in Jesus.

Jesus died on the cross so that we may have freedom.

The Gospel of Grace, God's abounding love, frees us from the constant pressure to perform, to hide, to be, or to pretend.

All we ever need to be, God accomplished for us.

This is beyond refreshing!

It liberates us to toss away the counterfeit and be everything God created us to be in Him.

What more can we add to our identity that Jesus hasn't already done? Nothing.

True freedom happens when we realize who we really are has nothing to do with us.

"Stop it. You don't need to fake it."

Jesus said, “It is finished.” (John 19:30)

Timeless Beauty

Looking in the mirror seems to have become a sometimes painful experience, especially if there's florescent lighting, for many women.

If you're close to my age, no I am not going to tell you my exact age, you might be able to relate. If I live to be 90, I am at the half-way point.

In my mind I'm still somewhere in my 30's, and it's a bit of a surprise to see my reflection-with added weight and wrinkles. I use a number of beauty products that promise me a youthful appearance, but to no avail. I'm getting older but also, hopefully, wiser.

Recently I was talking with a friend of mine, who just left her 20's; about how she was aging gracefully. I told her how I thought she was getting more beautiful as she got older. She had a very wise reply. She had recently looked in a mirror and told herself that this is as good as it will get, and that is why her mother concentrated on developing a beautiful character.

This gave me food for thought. It reminded me of a verse in the Bible that says, "Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting " (Proverbs 31:30). Am I more concerned about how I look on the outside, chasing something that I'll never catch, than being beautiful inside? Am I spending time and effort on developing my character?

How can we become more beautiful inside? In contrast to looking beautiful on the outside, which is temporary and impossible to maintain, there is a section in the Bible that talks about inner beauty, which is timeless:

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight (1 Peter 3:3-4).

This doesn't mean that we can't wear gold jewelry or fine clothes, but that we shouldn't focus so much on the outside that we neglect our inner self. We can develop a gentle and quiet spirit. Truthfully, I struggle with this daily, having independent, forthright and sometimes harsh tendencies. However, I still try to please God with my thoughts and attitudes, and with my words and actions. I spend time with God by reading my Bible and talking with him. I ask forgiveness when I've wronged Him or others. And He takes my baby steps and works with me, and in me to make me more beautiful. He's committed to my transformation, to making me more like His Son. He'll work with you too if you ask, to give you the ultimate makeover.

I encourage you the next time you look in a mirror and aren't happy about what you see, to remember that even as we age, we become more beautiful. Beauty products can help us to look our best, but what's really important and of great worth in God's sight; is being beautiful on the inside and having that beauty bubble up and overflow to the outside.

Cultivating character will lead to ageless beauty.

A Beautiful Mess

As a mother of three young and active boys, I was pulling at straws for the last week of summer to keep the kiddies busy and to keep my sanity intact. So I headed to a local store and purchase some fun summer activities, blissfully in the clearance department. I set them out on the "craft table" in the sun room and with hands open told the boys to "go for it".

Go for it they did and for one project in particular - make your own stepping stones. I guess I didn't really think that one through...

The next morning I heard a gasp from my husband as he was opening the door to have his morning coffee in the sunshine of the very room where the crafts had taken place...

Cement powder still lingered in the air, rested on the windows, covered the chairs and had concreted itself to the top of the table. Small stones of different sizes, shapes and colors were sprawled out on the table. "I hope that comes off the table." my husband sighed as he left the room.















I looked around and smiled. To me it looked like a beautiful mess.

I wonder if we can allow ourselves that perspective during the times in our lives when things seem messy. Can we view it as a beautiful mess? It is a hard thing to do in the times when the powders of the pain are still lingering in the air and resting on our lives.

If there is only one thing that I have learned, it is that with God there is always beauty to be found even in the largest of messes.

"For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope." Jeremiah 29:11

"Bigger"

As a parent, I’ve learned many lessons from my four children. I think there is a lot we can all learn from kids of all shapes and sizes—those who speak clearly and those who can't...

"If you love [only] those who love you, what credit is that to you?”
(Luke 6:32a, The Bible)

"BIGGER"

Jacob stands at the school doors peering out at the playground. His classmates play on the gleaming blue and yellow climbing equipment. Jacob looks right; then left. He doesn't see anyone. Maybe he can make it.

Five steps from the doorway Tyler and his gang jumped in front of him. They must have been hiding around the corner. Oh, no. He groaned.

He’d sat next to Tyler his first day on the bus. Things were fine until he opened his mouth. Jacob had a speech impediment, and Tyler had laughed. “You sound like a baby!” he said. He’d been picking on Jacob ever since.

“Hello, Jakey,” Tyler jeers, as his friends jostle each other. “Did your mommy remember to put your diaper on this morning? Wouldn't want you to have an accident!”

“I don't weah diapahs, Tylah!” Jacob clenched his fists. Angry tears pooled in his eyes. .

“He doesn't weah diapahs. Did you hear that guys?” The fifth-grade boys snicker. “Maybe you should stay home until you're bigger, Jacob. You should be in play school, not grade one!”

Jacob hangs his head. He swipes tears away with his jacket sleeve and stomps back to the school doors. Tyler and his crew saunter away, laughing and slapping each other's backs.

Jacob watches everyone play as he huddles by the doors. Maybe I should be like David and use my slingshot. That would shut him up! All afternoon, Jacob tried to think of ways he could get Tyler to stop being so mean.

The next day, school opens with prayer requests. “Can you pray for my brother Tyler?” Ricky asked. “He got hit by a car. He’s in the hospital with a broken leg and he’s waiting to have an operation.” Jacob was shocked.

His thoughts play tug-of-war the whole day: Did I make Tyler get hurt just by wishing it? Should I be happy or sad? What should I do? The day takes forever to end.

When Jacob gets home, he slams the front door. He called, “Mom? Mom, wheyah ah you? I have to go to the hospital! Tylah is theyah. I need to see him.”

“I thought Tyler was the one who's been bullying you.”

“He is. That doesn't mean I don't want to see him. I want to do the 'do to others' thing. Can I, Mom?”

Mom's forehead wrinkles. "I'll take you after supper. Can you wait until then?”

Taking a deep breath of the garlic-laced air, Jacobs sighs. “Okay.”

Later that evening, Jacob shuffles into Tyler's hospital room. The first thing he sees are Tyler's feet. “Hi, Tylah. Look how puhple youah toes ah!”

“Jakey?” Tyler squeaks, “I mean, Jacob? What are you doing here?” He paused. “Did you come to say you’re glad I'm in the hospital?”

“No! I wanted you to stop being mean, not get huht. I hope youah leg gets bettah soon.”

“Thanks, Jacob. Uh--I should be back at school next week, but I think I'll be in a cast for a while.”

“I hope it's off befoah summah. You'll get a funny tan if it isn't!”

“I know,” Tyler says, chuckling. “Hey, it looks like your mom is ready to leave. I...um...I guess I'll see you at school.”

Smiling hugely, Jacob high-fives Tyler and skips out of the room. He may only be six, but he sure feels bigger!

---

Cutting the Strings

Our Heavenly Father is so unconditional in His love for us, that He attaches no strings. None.

Let that sink in...

Because we on the other hand, are so conditioned to attach something.

We play love like a marionette.

We base love on actions and reactions.

But God is God. And He is good.

Nothing we do or don't do adds to His devotion.

Can you grasp that, today?

Your moral behaviour adds nothing, and your immoral behaviour takes nothing away.

Your love and affection for God adds nothing to His love and affection for you, and your lack of it takes nothing away.

His love is unconditional. No strings attached.

It's time we cut off the lies in our lives. The ones that bind up truth.

We hear them being whispered, sneaky and quiet...

"God can't love you, you're a failure"

"God can't love you, you're an addict"

"God can't love you, you have nothing to offer"

But the truth is your worth is not based on your abilities to produce anything.

There is nothing we can do to earn the love of God. It simply is.

Let the grace of God wrap itself around you, today.

Grace cuts the strings.

In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.

(1 John 4:10)

An Acquired Taste

Mothers everywhere know that whiny, annoying declaration of defiance their kids make while dissecting their food. They use their forks and inspect every bite on their plate, making sure it isn't contaminated by some hated vegetable.

I used to be that way about onions. If there was an onion on my plate, I was going to find it and I was not going to eat it. If I smelt onions, tasted onions, or saw onions being used in the cooking, then by my standards, the food was unfit.

Take heart, dear mothers out there. This blog was inspired by the soup that I made for myself this afternoon! When I put down the wooden spoon and grabbed the freshly chopped onions to throw into the steamy lunch, I thought about one thing: an acquired taste.

I have learned to like onions, along with other things like celery and peas. Over the past year my diet has become revolutionized; as chocolate, cookies, chips, pizza, and fats or oils of any sort were thrown out the door along with seventy-five pounds of baggage I used to carry around. I missed the junk food at first, but it's been a year and I no longer find the majority of it appealing. The things I do find appealing - fruit smoothies, vanilla yogurt - are the very things I would once turn my nose up at.

An acquired taste. After several mouths of very strict discipline, my tastes have changed.

What if we take my situation, but substitute onions for church?

Some of us really don't like church, especially at first. We don't like getting up early. We feel we don't belong. We're bored in the pews. After a week or two, we decide to sleep in and give up on church for a while.

Church can be an acquired taste, and I'm not kidding. At first, it might not be appealing. But if we continuously go, make a commitment, and really make an effort to move closer to God through it, there will come a time when church will be enjoyable. There will come a time when getting up on Sunday morning doesn't feel like such a chore.

It might take a while. My hate for onions wasn't easily overcome. But it was worth it for me to change my eating habits. How much more worth it would it be to get closer to God, who made and cares for us, and to get closer to his people?

It's worth a shot, isn't it?

Let Us Come and Eat...

"I don't ever want to live in an Orphanage, Mama."
The most random thoughts escape the lips of my littlest beauty. Her imagination runs wild like river rapids.

"Why would you have to live in an Orphanage?" I question her.

"If you couldn't take care of me, wouldn't you bring me there?... Like, if you couldn't feed me?"

"Baby Girl, I would give up all I have to take care of you and feed you." I'm trying to give reason that her young age will understand.

"But, what if you had nothing, Mama. Then what?"
I can tell she needs to explore all the odds. Exhaust all the circumstances.

"I would still want you near me, no matter what. Besides, Baby Girl... even if we had nothing, we would always have Jesus."

My last statement ignited a grin on her tender face, from ear to ear, and broke the worry. The brightness of her smile lit up my heart.

"That's right, Mama! Did you know that Jesus calls himself 'The Bread of Life'? So, we wouldn't ever be hungry. He would take care of us and feed us, wouldn't He?"

The tears well in my eyes, and I smile at this beloved girl of mine. Precious and Delicate.
"Yes, yes He would."

"I knew it." she exclaims as she bounces off into the day.

Out of the mouth of babes, comes truth.
Simple foundational truths, we can learn from a child.

Jesus tells us "Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 18:4)

"I am the bread of life. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh." (John 6:48,51)


Oh, Precious women... I thank God for you today!
I pray that we will all exhibit this child-like faith and believe in the One who will feed our spirits "real" bread. I pray that our relationship with Jesus will be deep, and wide, and all-consuming. May we truly know what it means to come to Him and feast.

Remembering Mom

The blazing sun scorched the sand as I made my way out of town along Canada’s most beautiful beach. My feet burned at each step. Sweat dribbled down my forehead and into my eyes making them sting. It was another blistering day at Sauble Beach.
The nauseating smell of over-cooked hot dogs and greasy fries consumed my nostrils as I hastened along the shoreline. Blowing sand tasted like dust in my mouth. I quickened my stride as I progressed toward Mom's weather-beaten home far down the beach.




Once past the fun-loving, laughter-filled beach lovers I found a sheltered spot near the towering hills of sand where I rested and watched the gently white-capped water. The soft, cream-colored granules sifted through my toes, tickling me as I hunkered down in the lee of the dunes. Here I had a bit of privacy for my grieving heart.



The greenish-blue water lapped at the shore like a puppy. Adults heedfully tended to toddlers at the water's nibbling edge. Mom enjoyed squatting there with my sister, giggling together.
Sandbars, lighter blue than the water around them, caught my eye: one, two, three, and four. I swam out to the farthest one through the frigid water with Mom at my side every summer as a child.

My eyes followed the dozen screeching seagulls swooping through the sky looking for scraps of food left by sunbathers. Occasionally, one dove down and snatched a rippled chip or piece of dried-out bread in its pointed yellow beak. More often, two or three made the plunge and I heard the raucous squabble over their garbage entree. I wondered if Mom, now living in heaven, could see them too; and if, like me, they made her smile softly and remember days gone by.

I licked my lips and tasted the salty tang of my perspiration. Maybe it was from my tears. I didn't know.

I focused beyond the gulls at the puffy white clouds lazily floating in the pale blue sky. Faintly, the groan of the beach swing reached my ears as some little person pumped higher trying to reach those fluffy cotton balls in God’s heavens. Mom pushed me on that splintered, wooden swing many years ago.


Detecting the sickly stench of exhaust and catching the jarring sound of car doors slamming I knew that my intimate nook was going to be invaded. I reluctantly rose to my feet, scooped up my discarded sandals and plodded up the sandy mound behind me.
Long slender dune grasses left tiny scratches on my knees. They faded quickly with a firm rub of my hand. I trusted God to soothe my soul as easily.

I turned back to look at the calm, beckoning water.

Someday I would return to enjoy its call, but not that day; no, not then.


- Written by Anita , A Woman's Walk author-

Exceptional Service

I recently experienced exceptional service at a local garden centre. I had been given two rose bushes last year for Mother's Day, which bloomed beautifully through the summer and fall, but which looked like dried leaves and twigs this spring. Fortunately, they came with a one year guarantee for replacement. Even though I returned them this week, two months past the one year date, I was cheerfully given plants amounting to the full value of my original purchase. The lady who served me, did so without reluctance and with a smile. Needless to say, her actions have influenced me to be a loyal customer who will be back; not for the low prices, but the excellent service.

This all got me thinking about my attitude toward service. Many times I'm like the clerk who will give you what is required, but only that and nothing more.

As a stay at home mom with five children, my life is about providing services: laundry, shopping, food preparation, cleaning, schedule organization and chauffeur service... just to name a few. I am not proud to admit that very few of these are provided with a smile. I often bemoan the fact that I am the one who's folding the laundry again, or I am the one still cleaning up the kitchen when everyone else has moved on to their next (relaxing) activity. And while my goal is to train my children, especially my boys, to do all aspects of housekeeping so that they will one day be a blessing to their spouses, there's still lots of things that I'm left doing.

I need to make a choice.

I can either serve reluctantly, or (at least somewhat) cheerfully. As with so many things in life, it comes down to having the right attitude.

I'd much rather be on the receiving end of good service, than providing it. Recently, I was reading in my Bible that even Jesus "did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”(Mark 10:45) This really challenged me, because if anyone deserves to be served, it's Jesus. Yet, he came not to be served but to serve others; even to the point of giving up his life. So, with Jesus as my example, I desire to look to be a servant, rather than to be the one who is being served. And while it may feel like I might collapse in exhaustion some days, I'm not in danger of yielding my life in service.

So, while your travelling through your life, I encourage you to notice when someone gives exceptional service. But even more importantly, strive to serve others- with a smile.

White Light

Blackness.

It's a dark room. The lights have been switched off. The silence is only broken by the constant gasping for breath.

It's a dark building. Empty and almost completely barren of life, walls stand lonely and in sorrow.

It's a dark street. The narrow alley is never lit by the beams of cars. Forgotten letters and newspapers litter the cracked pavement.

It's a dark night. Clouds have hidden the stars. The moon has left its watchful post in the sky.

Do you ever wonder?

Do you ever wonder....
What it would be like to talk to God?

Do you ever wonder...
What he would say?

Do you ever wonder...
If you tried, would he turn away?

Do you ever wonder...
What it would be like to talk to God?

Do you ever wonder...
what you would say?

Do you ever wonder...
how speaking to him would feel?

Do you ever wonder...
the comfort it would be, to be something real?

Do you ever wonder...
What it would be like to talk to God?

You don't need to wonder.
He is listening today.
You don't need to bow your head,
sit in a church,
have the right words,
to open your heart
and pray.