New Appeal to an Old Curb: Part II

So with all these upgrades happening on the outside of my house, and all this talk of transformation, I have gotten to thinking. I have been thinking about transformation. I have been thinking about how things change. These thoughts have been percolating as I have watched how quickly two men could transform my house from something blah to something warm and beautiful. It has made me wonder how some things can change so quickly and so easily, and other things seem so unchanging, no matter now hard you try. Oh dear...do you feel a life lesson coming on here?

If only it was so easy in life. If only life was such that one morning you would wake to find someone busy scraping away the rough spots of your life before pulling out the brush to whip you into a wonderfully transformed work of art. Why is it that life takes so long to bring about transformation? I feel like there are areas of my life that I have been "working on" for as long as I can remember, but it seems that no matter how hard I "work", there is no wondrous overnight transformation. There is no waking up one morning to a terrific surprise and a vision of beauty. And there is certainly no insurance to pay for all it takes to get me there.

I am not talking about a physical transformation (though lets face it, I think we all could use a new paint job every once in a while). I am talking about my heart and about my character. Why can't it be easy? Why can't I wake up with more love to give in my heart, more passion for God, and more patience and compassion for others? Why can't I wake to find those irritating little quirks that I keep stubbing my toe on would suddenly give way to smoother paths? And why can't someone else do the work of bringing those qualities alive in me, while I sit with my feet up, cold drink in hand?

Yes, I know that we are not alone in the transformation process. I know that the Holy Spirit is there smoothing out the rough places and shining up the dull areas, completing the good work that He started. I do know that. I just sometimes wish that it wouldn't take so long for this particular process to hit completion. I wish that I could step outside myself one day and be absolutely delighted about how things were looking, and how far along I was in the process. I am looking for some instant curb appeal -some new curb appeal for an old soul.

So I really don't have any answers here, but maybe this is where trust comes in. Trust that God is indeed working. Trust that one day He who began that good work in me will reveal something more beautiful than I even expected. Trust that in His timing it will all be revealed.

And maybe we are allowed to see these little transformations in our everyday surroundings (like a new look to an old house) to remind us that the Builder is still building, and the Great Designer is still designing. And in the meantime, I am happy at least one curb is looking all spiffy and beautiful. And one curb is enough for now.

Easter Thoughts...

Today I feel grateful.

I feel grateful for a Saviour who died for me in my brokenness,

my wandering, my confusion and pain.

He died for my dishonesty, my "lost-ness", my anger

and my constant need to "impression manage".

He died for my fear.

He died for my aching and my shame.

For my selfishness, my most grumpy days, and for every moment that I worry more about pleasing people than pleasing Him.

He died for my rebellious heart,

and for every time I am too stubborn to say "I'm sorry".

He died for it all.

And then He rose again.

And brought the promise and hope of victory over all the things I just listed.

Oh what a Saviour.

I thank You.

Have a wonderful Easter everyone.

Bowling Pins, Gutter Balls, and Deep Roots...

Last night Harv and I went bowling with our Young Adults group. And though I gave it my best shot, I was forced to face the grave reality that this is one activity that I cannot do every 3 years and still expect to retain any semblance of skill. I know that the last time I went, my co-bowlers gave me some pointers that markedly improved my game, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember what those pointers were. Harv is of the opinion that the less you try, the better you score, and he proved this little theory by bowling an impressive game of 218. I don’t think that I could get that score even if I joined the Yorkton Bowling League, and bowled on a daily basis. I am convinced that the owners have a switch in the back that turns on some sort of magnetic field that sucks all balls to the gutter whenever I am up. I think that they sit in the back and have a hoot watching this. Y’know, if I didn’t love those ding-dang shoes so much I would give up the game all together.

I remember a lady telling me once that with any skill, “you use it, or you lose it”. She was referring to skills, talents, muscle, the mind, and so on and so forth. This of course has struck fear in my heart as I have already tested this particular theory with my housekeeping skills and found it to be true. Now I lie awake at night fretting over which skills I am losing on a daily basis.

I have been wondering – is this also true with our relationship with God? I have been going through such a dry spell lately. It is a time where everything feels so hard, and God feels so far away. Sometimes I feel like my prayers are bouncing right off the ceiling. Or maybe more honestly, my prayers are pathetically being thrown at the ceiling, much like the pathetic loping of my bowling ball last night. Regular Bible reading and prayer seem tiresome, and I am thinking that if I don’t pull it all together soon, I am going to lose all skill as a useful Christian. As I was thinking about this last night I was reminded of a verse that set my fears to rest…

Blessed are those who trust the Lord…
They are like trees planted along a riverbank, with
roots that reach deep into the water. Such trees
are not bothered by the heat or worried by long
months of drought. Their leaves stay green, and
they go right on producing delicious fruit.
Jeremiah 17:7-8 (NLT)

I am so thankful for “deep roots”. And I am so thankful that we cannot lose our salvation, even when times are dry and our soul is weary. I am so thankful that God can still use me, even when I feel like I am “throwing gutter balls” at every turn. I am also thankful that I still love to bowl even after that embarrassing display of ineptitude last night. It's just too bad that I couldn't keep the shoes.

Expecting Fireworks - Embracing an Empty Sky

Harv and I walked to the fairgrounds to see the fireworks tonight. We sat and sat and waited and waited, but there was nothing to be seen. What town doesn’t have fireworks on the 1st of July?! Where was the Canada Day spirit? We walked home with all of the other disappointed citizens. We had great expectations, and it was a definite bust. But y’know, it got me to thinking (and for those of you who have been missing your heapin’ helping of Daily Bread, here goes nothing)…

How many other times in my life have I gone somewhere or done something expecting “fireworks” and have walked home disappointed? We didn’t know for sure that there would be anything…we just made an assumption. We had expectations, and our expectations were not met. And that’s what I am thinking about…expectations. Those darn expectations will get you in trouble every time. Can you imagine how much less disappointment we would face if we didn’t have ANY expectations – on anything and anyone? Do you know how much easier my life would be as a Pastor’s wife if no one in the church (including myself) would have any expectations on what I should be doing, or who I should be?! Can you imagine if no one expected “fireworks” from me (cause they sure aren’t getting any!) no one would walk home disappointed?!

So I am thinking we should ban all expectations. If we only expect blahness and nothingness, we will never ever be disappointed. In fact – if we set or expectations so low for life, when good things DO happen, we will not only be happy, but we will have the additional bonus of feeling pleasantly surprised! Just think, if you came to this blog thinking that there would never ever be any new thoughts…most of the time you would not be disappointed! But once in a while, you would feel great delight in the discovery of something new. If I didn’t expect anything of anyone, I would never be disappointed. If I never expected fireworks in my life, I would never walk home feeling let down.

Oh, but something about that doesn’t seem right. On the other hand… expectations are part of the joy of anticipating things. The expectation and anticipation is half of the fun in planning things. The expectation of wedded bliss is what makes being engaged so fun! Being able to expect certain things from Harv, gives me confidence and security as a wife. And didn’t even David in the Psalm expect things? He said himself…”In the morning O Lord, you hear my voice, in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.” (Psalm 5:3)

So obviously I am feeling a little conflicted here. Is it possible to take the good expectations, the ones that make anticipation so much fun, and leave all the expectations that lead to disappointments? Unfortunately life doesn’t work that way, and if we want to experience the joy of the best that life brings, we have to risk facing some of the worst that life brings too. So I guess that I will not settle for blahness. I will keep on expecting, and keep on getting my hopes up and keep on anticipating. And if I don't see any fireworks, I will enjoy the beauty of an open sky. And I expect that you will probably do the same.

Upcoming Forecast: A Calming in the Winds

Let's see...do I still remember how to work this thing?

The whirlwind of the last month is starting to subside and I am catching a glimpse of familiar routine heading my way. The holiday was wonderful and the bags have been unpacked. An extended visit from a good friend and her children has come to an end. I think I have most of the honey and jam wiped off the coffee table from sticky little hands, but I am still finding toys and food under furniture. Our flowers are in, the weed pits have been worked over, and the garden will be ready to be planted after we till it one more time. My parents left this afternoon after a couple days of intense yard work, and the transformation in our yard has been so exciting.

The blog has been sadly neglected…but how can one even write with so much going on? And now, after so much has gone on, how can I even attempt to catch everyone up on everything that has happened? I was thinking of this very thing this morning as I was tooling around in the yard. What can I say to catch people up? No brilliant plan was formulated, but a comforting thought did indeed strike me. Aren’t you glad that there is no catching up with God? I am so glad that He walks with me, and He just KNOWS everything that has gone on, and is going on, and will be going on. There is no – “Oooops…I can’t believe I forgot to tell you that.” Or “Didn’t you know?” He just knows. And even if I have ignored Him for a while, He is still there, and still knows, because even if I am not telling Him what is happening on the path of my life – He is still walking on that path with me. And I like that.

So here’s to not having to catch up – but just jumping back into the normalness and routine of life. Talk to you soon.

Routine...

I have been thinking lately about routine – about my routine, about the routine of others. Everyone has one you know. I know a girl that does the same thing every single morning. In the same order. Never changing. After 5 1/2 years of being married to Harv, I know his morning rituals like the back of my hand. My rituals are a little different. Lately I have taken to turning on the computer and checking my blog and my email first and foremost, before anything else. But one thing remains the same. Every morning I open my eyes and take a sip of water from my glass beside the bed. Cats have routines too. My cat has started taking up a new ritual. She wakes me up in the morning by jumping on the bed by my head and sticking her paw in my water glass to get a little sip. Her morning ritual is interfering with mine. Very annoying. How do I break this new routine?

It seems like routines sneak up on us. Just like habits and rituals. But the question I am wondering is – why do the bad habits seem to sneak up on us more often that the good ones? It seems like you can wake up one day and it will hit you that you have developed a terrible habit of knuckle cracking, or publicly pulling up your bra strap (sorry guys!). Something that you did once in a blue moon is suddenly an enforced habit and subject to public ridicule and speculation. How do these things happen? How can it happen after watching a few TV shows that all of a sudden you are totally hooked on 18 different shows? A little exaggeration there, but even a few is still alarming for someone who never used to watch TV. It can just hit you without even knowing it was happening. I stopped one day and it hit me… when did I stop driving a car? That one just hit me recently causing this current theme of pondering and reflection. We are a one car family and Harv does all the driving. Suddenly before I know it, I haven’t driven in 3 months. I have become my Aunt Mary Anne. How did that happen? It just snuck up on me! How come these things can just sneak up on us?

Why can’t it be that way with the good habits? Why can’t I wake up one morning and realize that I have gotten into the habit of doing an hour of aerobics, or having a healthy breakfast? What can’t quiet times and Bible reading be an easy habit that I don’t even think about, rather than something that I really have to work towards? Why do the things that are good for us require so much work and constant effort, and the things that are bad for us come so easily?

They say it takes 21 days to form a habit. I don’t know who “they” are but…it sounds right. Mind you they also say it takes 3 months to change a habit. Must be two different sets of “they’s”. I am not sure that it takes 3 months to make a bad habit. I don’t think that it took 3 months for me to get into the habit of having something sweet after supper. I don’t think that it took any time at all. But I can guarantee you that it would take that amount of time and more to break the habit. Why? Why do the bad habits have such an unfair advantage over the good ones? How did that happen? Was that another thing that just snuck up on us – this inequality of habit forming?

I know that I am not the only one that feels this way. Even Paul talks about the “good” that he wanted to do, not being what he did. The Bible tells us to work out our salvation, to strive for godliness, to pursue contentment. Striving and pursuing, and working do not come easy. It does not sneak up on us. I know this. I am aware. I just wish that bad habits would have to strive and work and pursue me a little harder. I wish that they didn’t find me so easily. I just wish that for once the good ones find me and the bad ones would get lost on the Interstate, and be too proud to ask for directions. But until that happens I will be working and striving and pursuing the good, and hoping to not wake up every morning in shock at how another bad habit has snuck up on me without my even knowing.

Father Time is Calling. Can I Screen His Call?

I feel old. Old, as in…past my prime. On the downhill slide of my life. Old. Old, as in, what have I done with my life? What happened to me? Old old old. It was not always this way. In fact – just yesterday I was feeling pretty young. Peppy. Youthful. I was out celebrating a birthday lunch for one of the church ladies. Inevitably, the subject of age came up, as it so often does when a birthday is being celebrated. And as usual the subject of my youth came up. It is easy to feel young and vibrant when you are still the “baby” of the church family. There are not too many of us "younger" women around (other than the youth group of coarse). But I am talking 30ish women. There are about 3 of us. So usually I feel pretty young in comparison. Yep…I was feeling pretty good. A little swelling of the head in youthful pride. A little warm feeling in my heart. Yes, I was pretty happy for me. Yeah me. Me me me.

BUT…oh how the tide can turn, and when you are not looking pride can come and give you a big swift kick in the derrière. Yes, I have been put in my place. Last night we attended “Raise the Roof”. This is a worship event with the youth of Yorkton. We have not attended too often this year, but we try to go, since I guess I am considered the youth leader of the church, and we want to support our youth. Well last night I looked around in wonder. When did the youth get SO YOUNG? Why does it seem that they are all about 12 years old? And why do they want to dress like they are 24? And while I was thinking, when did the youth get to be so young, the thought struck me…when did I get to be SO OLD?!

The other kicker was this…this month at Raise the Roof they happened to have a special worship team come in from no other than my old Alma Mater – Millar College of the Bible. Well, of coarse I was thrilled. I rushed to the display table to relive the old memories (because after all – it was only like…last week right? Certainly they would remember me!! Ha ha.) Well my first downfall came when I found not my cousins – but my cousin’s KIDS in the yearbook. How did that happen? Aren’t they like…10 years old? Boy they are letting them in Bible School young these days!! Ok – I was feeling a little wounded by that kick to my youthful pride, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I enjoyed the program. I was reliving the memories – though I don’t remember us having that many instruments in our worship, and looking that cool when we led them. After, I went up to one of the band members with my normal Millar alumni exuberance, and proudly announced that I was, ahem (chest puffed out in pride) also a Millar student at one time. Well, instead of having the happy reunion that I was anticipating – he looked at me rather blankly, (with a little “that’s nice old timer” smile) and said - “Oh ya.” That was it. HELLO?!?! I wanted to shake him. “OK…maybe you didn’t understand what I said…I went to Millar!!” “Hey – wipe that look off your face…We RAN that school!! Our student body were some of Millar’s FINEST. There are none like us!!” “We were legendary…you must know me. I ran the Social Cabinet for crying out loud!!!” “Claudette and I hid inside the school at night and slept on the trampoline. This is stuff that legends are made of – you MUST have heard of me!!!” sigh. But there was no recognition…not even a spark. No feeling of kinship. My time had passed. It was now their time. They were now the ones ruling the school and making the memories.

Life has a cruel way of moving us along. Before you know it, the one stage that you were in has moved along to a new stage. A less desirable stage? Well for some maybe…but not for all. A different stage. I think that there will always be times in your life that you look back on and long to return to…maybe just for a minute…not forever. Yes, I am getting old. We all are. The days are passing by, and I often wonder about what I am doing with my life. At the end of every day, we look at another day gone…and another moment passed…always changing, always moving us along. And sometimes I wish that it could all stop!! Let me figure out what I am doing with this stage before life moves me on to another! But it never slows down. And so we roll with the punches and live each moment and grow with each moment, or we sit in sadness and look back and grieve for the days that we wish that we could recapture. But no matter what we choose, life is moving along.

This little talk that I have been having with myself here is leading me down a strange mingling path of motivation and despair. But that is often the way of self discovery. I WANT to be the kind of person that embraces every stage of life and lives each moment with an attitude of self discovery. That is what I want. But realistically, I am more like the person that hides in the closet and hopes that when Father Time comes knocking at the door, he will think I'm not home and carry on his merry way. I often look back in longing and what if’s. I could never be accused of living for the moment. I wonder…when we are not living for the moment, does that mean that for the moment you are - not living? I am going to purposefully start embracing the here and now of my life. Oooohhh…baby steps…I am going to PRAY that I can purposefully start embracing the here and now. And who knows…maybe someday I will be looking back to this stage in my life with longing and fondness of memory. But for now I should go…it’s mid afternoon…where has the time gone?

Taking the Keep Out of Keepsakes...

Yesterday was a day for boldness. We boldly went where we had not gone before. With great courage and fortitude we took the path less travelled and descended into the depths of our basement. Ok, that is not exactly true…we have gone down to our basement before, but never to spend any quality time. Let me tell you about the basement. When we moved into our house we began the work of settling in, as any new homeowner would. After the main floor was lovingly and painstakingly arranged, and everything was where it needed to be, we banished everything else to the basement. Everything that was left over - every unopened box, everything labled "sort", every article that had no home was piled neatly in the basement. It was neatly piled that is, until the day I needed to find a few things, and the aforementioned neat pile became a tornado-like replica of scattered debris and paraphernalia. That was about when we stopped going downstairs. We couldn’t face the horror.

So yesterday we decided to take some action. We worked ourselves up. We got ourselves motivated. We put our courage to the sticking place (that is a line from Beauty and the Beast that I never quite understood, but thought that it was fitting today). We tackled the job. GO TEAM J!!!! And you should see the basement now. It is just a vision of beauty.

OK – actually we just moved all the junk into the spare bedroom and closed the door.

WE HAVE TOO MUCH STUFF!!!!! It’s a sickness people. I just don’t know what to do with it all!!!! What do you get when one pack rat marries another? An INFESTATION !!! It is not pretty. And WHY do we need to keep EVERYTHING?! Do I really think that I am going to have room for every little nic nac that I have owned since 1979? Does Harv really plan on looking at all his old school materials? Do we need to keep every book that we have ever read? Do we REALLY need 18 different kinds of leather polish? And let’s face it…with clothing…if it ever fits again, do I REALLY want to look like I am straight out of high school? I need my friend Amy to come and do a clean sweep. She is a marvel. I just have a hard time letting go!! What if I regret getting rid of it? What if I need it again sometime?

This gets me to thinking…why is it SO HARD to let go? I am not just talking about my basement now. Why is it so hard to let go in life? I am a pack rat in my own life. I find it so hard to let go of bad habits and wrong thinking, even though it clutters up “my basement”. I feel like so often I am stubbing my toe on the same issues - on boxes and junk that are scattered all over in my life, and I hate the mess, but I can’t seem to let go. Old hurts, false views of God, critical thinking, bad habits – they all clutter up what could be free, beautiful space in my life. And why don’t I let go? Am I afraid that someday I am going to need it again? Do I want to hold on to that painful memory – just in case I need to use it for a wall hanging down the road? Wouldn’t it be like those old clothes – once you move on from them you don’t want to wear them anymore (and sometimes you even think…what was I thinking to believe that this EVER looked good?!?!!)?

Letting go of old junk gives freedom – freedom to have space in my home to decorate, and use as I please. Letting go of personal baggage gives freedom as well. It gives freedom to occupy space (myself) with things that can be used by God and others to make life more beautiful. I think that my new junk room is not the only thing that is on the docket for a clean sweep. But one more question...why is it always easier to throw out Harv’s stuff rather than my own? Hmmmm.

Life in a Fishbowl...

We have some drama going on in our fish tank.

For those of you who don’t know, we have a 55 gallon fish tank, with seven beautiful fish that are growing bigger every day. They are our pride and joy (though they have taken a bit of a back seat since Abby the cat came into our lives). We have Sadie, Sophie, Dorrie, Lenny, Molly, Bonnie, and Baby Maggie. They are big, colourful fish. We have had quite the fish adventures in our short time of aquarium ownership. We have gone from a 5 gallon tank to what we have now. We have seen it all people. From Farley, who burned his little fins getting too close to the heater, to the massacre of 2004 when Fritze the Fancy Fishy attacked everything in her path. Then there was Fritzie the Fancy fishy going the way of the porcelain express because of her inability to get along with her siblings. We saw the unfortunate deaths of Frank and Agnes. Agnes, due to labour complications, and then Frank, from what I believe was a broken heart. And then Flapper (or “Flappy” as he was affectionately known to us) got some sort of fish virus and died tragically. And then there was Larry – we are not sure what happened to him, but all we found of him was his head and his back tail. I am not making this up people! These tragic tales are just the tip of the iceberg of our fish fiascos!

But in the last 8 months or so we have had peace and tranquility in the tank. We gave them a strict talking to – that they were not getting a bigger tank, so they needed to learn how to get along. And they did. Until yesterday.

The fish we have are very territorial. This means that they all have a little spot in the tank that they consider “theirs”. The bigger fish get the rocks and houses…and the smaller ones have to be content with hiding by the filter or the greenery. For months we have watched our mild mannered little Dorrie swim around without a home. Being one of the smaller fish, she had no claim on the prime real estate. But Dorrie has been growing. And a few nights ago I noticed with great shock, that she has actually grown to be the biggest in the tank.

And yesterday she noticed it too.

Well, it is quite something to see the underdog, (or underfish in this case) get a little bit of power. Those who were once chased become the chasee. And what was once peaceful, is now in discord. And you would think that Harv and I would be concerned. But we did not furrow our brows in uncertainty and foreboding. We did not relive the disharmony of fish days gone by. No we did not. We cheered. We rooted for our little underfish Dorrie.

What is it in us that makes us want to see the underdog succeed? And really, not only succeed, but wallop all over the aggressor? In movies, on TV, and even in life we root to see the weak flourish. Is it because we see a little bit of the weak in ourselves, and anytime the weaker wins, we can live vicariously through them? Is it because the “bad guys” finally get what is coming to them and the vengeance is sweet? Is it because in our own lives we don’t trust that God will indeed repay evil for good as He has promised? And maybe more than that, we don’t trust that He will repay evil in the way that we think is appropriate. In the book of Jonah we saw God about to destroy Nineveh. Jonah sat and waited for the fireworks. When God showed mercy, Jonah was angry. I think that I have a little bit of Jonah in me. I want to see the ones who tourment me repaid. It is an ugly admittance I do confess. My sisters and I have been talking a lot lately about forgiveness and vengeance. True forgiveness is when we give up our right to repay. And it is trusting that God will deal with our enemies in the way that He sees fit. I’m not exactly sure what the point is of what I am saying here, but it is something that I have been thinking about lately. No real conclusion to this little diatribe because it is just my ponderings. I know I don’t have the answers, but I do know that I want peace in my life in the same way that I want peace in my fish tank. And I know that peace and true forgiveness are as connected as water is to a fish. And that is what I am striving for – as much as Dorrie is striving for a new fishy home.

If a Tree Falls in the Forest...Does Anybody Hear?!

I have a silly little routine. Every morning I go over to our big living room window, open the curtains, and with a little leap of my heart and a shiver of happiness, I look upon the street where I live. This is done with great measures of affection and thankfulness. I am thankful to have windows. I am thankful to have a street. I am thankful to have a home. Those of you who visited us where we moved from will appreciate my appreciation. I watch the kids walking off to school. I watch my neighbour daily fussing with her yard. I gaze upon the loveliness of everything that is on my beloved street.

Well the other morning as I opened my curtains with the zest and joy that has become my custom; I was greeted by an unfamiliar sight. A work crew had assembled and were surveying the damage that the last snow storm had done to one of the trees in front of our house. A branch had half broken off, and was dangling perilously over the street. I watched them mulling and chain-sawing and thought of the joys of home ownership, and of living in a city where a crew will come and deal with “my part” of the city sidewalk. My joy turned to a gasp of horror while I watched as they not only took care of that wayward fallen branch, but proceeded to saw the ENTIRE tree to the ground. “Stop! Stop!” I cried from the glass window. “Honey, look what they are doing – GET OUT THERE!!!!” But Honey did not go. I would have run out myself, but I was in my P.J’s, and really, what would I have said? There were four of them, and only one me. In an unbelievable matter of mere moments, that tree was no longer. And I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not usually a known “saver of the trees”. I have never chained myself to a great oak in protest. I have never gone tree planting. It is not usually my great passion (though I do love them). I don’t know, maybe I am feeling a little sensitive because of the Great Tree Massacre of 2005 - the deforestation of my neighbour’s yard that made trees everywhere hang their limbs in sorrow as tree after tree after tree after tree came down last summer. You could not help be feel a little bit of tree sorrow at that sight, and I heard a little “Save the Trees” protest beat drumming away in my heart. I am not a known tree advocate, but there was something about this that just wasn’t right.

As I pondered about this, one thought kept coming to my mind – I am so glad that God is not like these city crews. One fallen branch and that tree was cut down in its prime. I am so glad that God does not cut me down when I have a fallen moment, or when a part of me is broken. John 15 talks about us being like a vine, and God being like a gardener pruning and trimming the branches (things in us) that are not bearing fruit. Aren’t you glad that He just prunes the branches and doesn’t mow the entire tree down? I am thankful for a God that is gentle and patient, and who wants to see me flourish and grow even though I am weak and so often broken. I am so thankful that He takes care of the broken branches and still lets me stand and bloom where I have been planted. I am thankful for a wise God who knows which branches to prune and which ones to leave. So this is what I am pondering today. And now this is me, bowing out. Heh heh…little pun there. Bowing…y'know...like a tree bow...heh heh...I crack me up.

Give Me One for the Underdog...

Today Harv and I went out for a walk and the weather was absolutely gorgeous. What a beautiful day – the kind that makes your heart happy. But as we walked we stumbled across something that filled my heart with more jubilation than even the weather. Someone was out there putting up Christmas lights! My heart did a little leap. OK – it was more than a little leap – I was filled with great levels of glad tidings and joy and immediately started singing “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…” I am a bit of a Christmas NUT. Our house turns into a winter wonderland of snowman, nativity’s, trees, candles and other Christmas paraphernalia. Seeing that November is right around the corner, I will soon be itching to start decorating. Harv usually makes me wait until after the Grey Cup. I don’t know why, but we all have our traditions that we follow religiously. I don’t remember discussing this during the pre-marriage counselling, but I am starting to think that it should be listed right up there with spending habits and visitation rights of in-laws. But back to Christmas… I admit that I have already bought two Christmas magazines, and perused through many others in the Superstore grocery line up. It really is the most wonderful time of the year.

Even in my anticipation, I find myself percolating on a few things that have come to my attention lately. First of all I ran into someone lately that said she didn’t LIKE Christmas. She didn’t like it at all. I tried to hide my shock and awe, and not startle her too much with my wide eyed wonder and emphatic – “WHAT?!?!?” She said that it was too commercialized. Yes, I have heard that before. Then, on the same weekend I read a book title that caused me to ponder further. The title was Can Martha Have a Mary Christmas? I stood there looking at that for quite a while, and I am afraid the title has not left me since…but not in the way that you might think. I know what they are saying…that we should not get so caught up in the craziness and commercial aspects of Christmas that we forget the true and real meaning. And I agree with that wholeheartedly. But I am also starting to think that poor Martha has been getting a bad rap her whole life. Everyone is so down on Martha…Martha is the worry wart…Martha is the obsessed…Martha has the anal retentive qualities of an ant on ritalin. But Mary…MARY has it all right. Every woman’s conference from here to Tuktiyuktuk has featured some speaker praising Mary and dogging on Martha. OK…I know that Jesus himself said that Mary had chosen what is right (Luke 10:38-42), and Martha, though well intentioned was slightly misguided. I am well familiar with the story. And I agree that we should be more concerned with the state of our heart than the state of our house. But I guess what I am wondering is this…is it always one or the other? What do you get when you have a Martha cross bred WITH a Mary? Because personally I think that I am a bit of both. I love to sit at the feet of Jesus. I just like to do it on a lovely colored floor mat with candles lit in the background, and maybe a streaming cup of hot cocoa and a platter of stuffed mushrooms and crab puffs beside me. So I am wondering…can you have the heart of Martha and Mary combined? And is it OK? Am I forgetting the meaning of Christmas and the beauty of the nativity story just because my house is a virtual wonderland of glitter and twinkle? Can I not have a heart for the Lord and still be concerned about the beauty of my surroundings? Because personally I think that God GAVE me a love for beauty. I know that in this, as with everything, it is all about balance. Everything in moderation right? But I guess today I just wanted to put in a little plug for the underdog. A little affirmation for the Martha’s in this world. A reminder that even Martha’s want beauty in their hearts (they just want it in their homes as well). And just remember the next time you are at a conference learning how to be a Mary while excavating any traces of Martha in your heart – think about who most likely organized the event in the first place? My guess is – probably a Martha.

Rock Pickin' in the Quarry...

Well, we are adjusting to being back home. We have actually just jumped right back in head first. Or is that jumped in with both feet? I can never get those two straight. Yesterday we had a hospital visitation, a coffee delivery/visit, and an evening anniversary get together. Harv had to return about 25 emails/phone calls. So we are back to our life, and everything is A-OK. I had a momentary lapse of emotional control, but all is well. I had a good reminder in my comments box yesterday (from who?) that this world is not our home, and that we will always feel a little discontent - or "homesick" if you will - for what we are missing. A longing for Heaven that will never go away until we actually get there. It's too bad really - cause I have been searching for happiness for who knows how long. I would like to feel completely happy right now to tell you the truth. I don't really WANT to wait until Heaven. Sigh. Anne of Green Gables asked once if we would rather be divinely beautiful, smart, or angelically good. I would give up all three just to be blissfully happy. But I guess I will just have to be content being divinely beautiful until Heaven. It is a cross I must bear. Tee Hee.

I used to pick rocks in the fields for my dad. I was thinking about that the other day. I know what Fred Flinstone felt like working in the quarry. Rock picking. All day. All alone. Just me and the rocks. Yep -not my idea of life long fulfillment in the carreer department. I used to find some interesting creatures dwelling under those rocks...bugs, worms, etc. I wonder what they were looking for under there?

I think that I am still picking up rocks. Figuratively speaking of course. It goes hand in hand with this longing that I have been pondering today. I am thinking about this Heavenly longing. This homesickness in my heart. I think that we all have it - a groaning in our hearts that cries out for something more. I have been fighting against this for years - looking under every rock for illusive happy feelings - which will not be truly realized until Heaven. Maybe it is better to figure this out now, and stop using up all my energy lifting up rocks. I read once that..."This world is booby-trapped. It's rigged for disappointment. On earth everything falls short of some hope-for ideal. Everything good down here has a tragic brevity and a funny aftertaste to it all. It falls short." (Mark Buchanan) So what keeps us going then? HOPE. It is hope that keeps us going. The hope and hunger for unseen things. The longing for the completeness that we KNOW is there in Christ. It's that hope of eternal TRUE happiness and completeness in Christ that drives us here and keeps us going - sustaining our passion and purpose here on earth. And my question is...how do some live without it? And if we are NOT living without it, and we KNOW about the hope - why are we still looking for happiness under piles of rocks? Just something to think about.

Rainy Days...to Spurn or to Splash?

I woke up this morning to a great delight outside my window. A cold and rainy day. I have always loved rainy days. There is something about them that makes me want to curl up with a blanket and a good book, or movie, and someone I love. Rainy days feel like days off. I don't know if I love them because when I was growing up, rainy days meant that life on the farm could possibly grind to a halt and we would get to do things as a family. We were well acquainted with the term "save it for a rainy day". It must have been a farmer that came up with that one. Whenever anyone complains of too much rain, people say..."it's good for the farmers" - so maybe I learned to see it in a positive light. I remember when we were young we went on a rare family trip to Florida. We went to Circus World, and because it was a rainy day there was hardly anyone there. No lines!! We went on rides to our hearts content. We were wet but happy.

Today on my happy rainy day I have no one to cuddle with. It is a Saturday, but my pastor hubby has gone to the office to catch up on work. Does this mean I should have married a farmer?!?! I really don't think so. I am quite happy with my choice, though sometimes I do see how being married to a pastor and to a farmer could have it's similarities. But THAT is another subject altogether for another blog... So, because the rainy day cuddling is out, I will instead hole myself up in my craft room and create to my hearts content.

Last night we had the youth group over for a fireside. I was a really good time of just hanging out. Some of the young boys were trying to convince their parents to consent to a sleep over. They left their list of winning arguments on my desk...

1. We will do all the chores.
2. We will be silent as ice cream.
3. We will wake up in the morning and make breakfast.
4. It's the ONLY weekend that he can come. (Is he being shipped out in the morning?)
4. We will not be annoying.

That gave me quite a chuckle this morning. Can you remember the days when all you had to worry about was whether or not you would be granted sleepover privileges? When a rainy day meant better puddles to splash in, not that the crops would be ruined or your basement flooded. When too much rain meant family fun days and limitless rides down Thunder Mountain, not that Hurricane Katrina was heading your way?

Sometime I envy the carefree days of youth (though they didn't always FEEL that way at the time). But really, are they not just putting into practice what God has been trying to get us to do all along..."IN EVERYTHING GIVE THANKS..." and to "BE ANXIOUS FOR NOTHING..."? Sometimes I think that kids already have mastered what adults spend a lifetime trying to learn. So I must ask myself...when did I "unlearn" it? Just something to think about. I think that I will go ponder that as I jump in the puddles in my backyard. Does anyone have rubber boots I could borrow? The only ones I have are child-sized.