Clod or Pebble?

Here’s hoping your Valentine’s Day brimmed over with romance and chocolate!

The origin of the celebration has several versions - my favourite - it’s the recognition of Valentinus, a Roman priest, who lost his head on February 14th, in the third century A.D., for secretly performing weddings for couples who were in love.  The emperor had forbid weddings because he believed single men made superior soldiers.

It wasn’t until the thirteenth century the famous English poet, Geoffrey Chaucer, associated acknowledgement of Valentine’s Day with romance and people began celebrating the day with gifts, cards and candy.

Me? I celebrated the day wiping the runny noses of three little grandchildren who were over for a week-long visit.  Not to be outdone, Matt’s groans reverberated throughout the house as he suffered the near death symptoms of a “man cold”. The evening redeemed itself with a giant bowl of war won-ton take-out and an episode of Dateline! 

In the spirit of the holiday, I’ve enclosed a love poem written by the English poet William Blake in 1794.

The Clod & the Pebble

"Love seeketh not Itself to please,

Nor for itself hath any care;

But for another gives its ease,

And builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.”

So sang a little Clod of Clay,

Trodden with the cattle’s feet;

But a Pebble of the brook,

Warbled out these metres meet:

“Love seeketh only Self to please,

To bind another to its delight;

Joys in another’s loss of ease,

And builds a Hell in Heaven’s despite.”

Clod or pebble.  It really depends on the day doesn’t it?

Have a great week!

Are We out of the Woods Yet?

I hereby confess my affinity for pop music. If you hear tunes blaring from my boring, middle-aged- occupants home I’m scrubbing the floor, folding laundry, or doing any myriad of tasks made less tedious by The Top One Hundred at high volume.  

Taylor Swift currently holds my number one spot with her song “Out of the Woods” from her album 1989 released in 2014. The following is the last verse and chorus:

Remember when you hit the brakes too soon?
Twenty stitches in the hospital room
When you started cryin', baby, I did, too
But when the sun came up, I was lookin' at you
Remember when we couldn't take the heat
I walked out and said, "I'm settin' you free,"
But the monsters turned out to be just trees
And when the sun came up, you were lookin' at me
You were lookin' at me
You were lookin' at me,
I remember, oh, I remember

Are we out of the woods yet?
Are we out of the woods yet?
Are we out of the woods yet?
Are we out of the woods?
Are we in the clear yet?
Are we in the clear yet?
Are we in the clear yet?
In the clear yet?
Good

I suggest we never leave the woods in a relationship. We step together onto a shadowed path and hike our way through a dense forest. A forest filled with rough crags and steep valleys where the wind rustles the leaves and the sun peeks through to cast its warmth on your upturned faces. You wend your way together around blind corners and reach back to help the other when they stumble. Don’t yearn for the clearing; it never appears. Throw your arm around one another’s shoulders and relish the journey!

A New Adventure …

To clarify, no, I’m not pregnant. I walked into a room of fourteen women and two men on Monday all excited about working in a new Pregnancy Care Centre opening in our small town. It’s so exciting to be a part of meeting and caring for those who find themselves in a difficult situation.  

Our training began with a fascinating history of abortion and infanticide in the ancient world. Early intellectuals like Plato and Aristotle supported abortion and Plato also encouraged any woman over forty to abort. Many of the ancient civilizations terminated pregnancies through medicinal or surgical means. Upon further inquiry, I discovered many more encouraged bizarre rituals like stepping over snakes or using disgusting compounds like crocodile dung mixed with dough.  

The study reminded me of a verse in Leviticus “You shall not give any of your children to offer them to Molech, and so profane the name of your God: I am the Lord.”(Lev. 18:21) The early Phoenicians offered their children to the arms of a giant bull. The children would roll into the fiery belly of the statue to the sound of drums loud enough to mask their cries. Why? The couples believed the sacrifice of their child would bring wealth to their families and future generations. 

How sad that anyone, in any age, would believe the loss of their children would bring freedom or prosperity. As our instructor said “The fight to protect the vulnerable is not a new fight.” May we have the opportunity and be diligent to support those who stand at the crossroad of decision for their unborn child.

A Special thanks to all those who voted on my reading for the book launch. Sample A won and it was my favourite, too. The printers have experienced delays so it looks like the launch will move into early March.  

Please Vote!

Panic swirls and twists in the pit of my stomach. Perhaps the short winter days and post-Christmas blues are responsible. Did you know last week held the most depressing day of the year? Or maybe releasing my baby, All That Glitters, into the wide world triggered the tension, the shortness of breath, and the questions: 

What was I thinking????? 

Why did I expose my innermost thoughts and character friends to the harsh light of criticism????? And why do I insist on airing the ridiculous laundry of my marriage in a public forum????? 

Ok, my panic attack is over. Why did I do it? Because it’s a dream come true! The current stress is just one of the struggles along the way.

This week I need your help. Toward the end of February I’m hosting a book release at the local coffee shop. I can’t nail down a date as the books have not arrived yet. I plan to do a reading and would like your vote on the following two selections. The actual readings will be longer but the following portions would be the highlights. Please vote on selection A or B through the comments. Or if you wish to remain anonymous, use the contact page to let me know. Thanks so much for your help!  

Selection A

   Vivian’s feet were lead blocks as they entered the last saloon on the street facing the river. The crush of rowdy men in each establish­ment made it difficult to reach the bar. Once again, the appearance of a woman made quite a stir. Both Vivian and Alistair ignored the cus­tomers’ crude comments as they pressed on to speak to the bartender.

   The rotund man behind the bar with a wide smile and three gold teeth spoke to Vivian first. “If you’re looking for work, I have all the waitresses I need.” He continued to wipe the wooden bar with a damp cloth.

   She didn’t care if the man wanted to hire a waitress or not. The last four saloons had made the same comment. It was about time for someone to give more than a flippant remark. She needed to find her sister, and she needed to find her now. She had had enough of the crowds, the comments, and the mud that stuck to her skirt and boots weighing her down like cement. “I’m not looking for work. I’m not looking for a handout. I’m looking for my sister. This is her photo­graph,” Vivian’s arm snapped out with the dog-eared photo coming within inches of the man’s face.

Selection B

   Not a soul was lined up at the plank table used as a counter where Florence Mayberry sat alone winding a hankie around her hand.

    Ben swallowed, the uneasiness building in his chest. “Mrs. Mayberry, it’s time for me to know the truth. Where is Audrey?”

   Mrs. Mayberry didn’t look up as she replied, “In the tent, Mr. McCormack. Take a look yourself.”

   Why did she sound so weary? Had something happened to Audrey? 

  His heart thumped like a drum. Here it was: the moment he’d been waiting for. He was about to meet the woman he’d been dream­ing about for months. He hustled over to the tent flap and lifted it aside. Audrey’s younger sister Caroline and her brother Jonathan were mixing batches of biscuits in large metal bowls atop a steamer trunk. Caroline looked over and then shifted, turning her back toward him.

   “Mrs. Mayberry, she’s not here. It’s only Caroline and Jonathan.” He turned around. Mrs. Mayberry’s head was in her hands. “She’s there, Ben.”

  Nope, he saw only Caroline and Jonathan. His Audrey sure had a knack for disappearing.

   “Audrey come on out,” Mrs. Mayberry called wearily.

   Caroline removed her floury hands from the bowl and brushed them on her apron. Straightening her shoulders, she brushed past Ben to exit the tent and stand beside her mother. 

Me, Matt ... and Barry.

      With the Christmas rush over, I snuggled into a comfy chair and pulled a fluffy blanket around my shoulders. My new Scentsy warmer cast a soft glow as I sipped a glass of wine and listened to the crooning of Barry Manilow. The original 1978 Greatest Hits Album (with nary a scratch) was a gift from my brother. We don’t own a record player anymore but the world’s greatest neighbor does.  A short trip across the street and her antique inspired player – named Nostalgia – was sitting atop my antique oak washstand.

      “Matt, come and sit with me.”  A moment so perfect shouldn’t be wasted.

     A reply from the office barely carried over the music “Give me a couple of minutes.”

     “Looks Like We Made it … “ Barry sang out. Ya, it looks like we did. We’ll be married thirty years in March, and with the Lord’s help, maybe thirty more.

     My head swayed from side to side through “Can’t Smile Without You” and “It’s A Miracle”.

     Matt joined me in the living room. Was it my imagination or were his eyes particularly sparkly tonight?

    “Could It Be Magic?” Barry asked.

    It certainly could be.

     “I just googled Barry Manilow. Did you know he married his high school sweetheart?”  Matt asked.

    I took another sip. How sweet, we have something in common. OK, so maybe I was the only one in high school, close enough. Where was I? Matt’s eyes – right - very blue tonight and that smile “Mmm mmm.”

    “….Baby, I love you …”

    Well said Barry.

    Matt reached over and clasped my hand. Warm fuzzies spread along my limbs.

    “…. I feel glad when you’re glad …” Barry sang in the background.

    “And two years ago … he married a man.” Matt said.

    “Pardon?” I pulled my hand from his grasp and apple juice sloshed over the edge of my glass. It wasn’t wine; I don’t even like wine. I can’t get past the awful taste.

    The moment disappeared as the busyness of the week caught up with me. I covered my mouth and yawned. “Good night, Matt.”

I would love to hear your comments!

Meet ... Jodi's choice!

Depending on the story, picking names for the characters can take a lot of thought. In my novel All That Glitters the time period covers the late 1800’s. I should have determined the age of the characters and worked back to their birth year and checked for popular names of babies in those years. I wrote the entire novel with the main male character as Brett and then changed it to an appropriate name (Ben) after I found out the name wasn’t common during the era. Often a character arrives in my head already named and I can’t see them as anyone else. I’ve also chosen names to give recognition to family members. Both of my grandmothers appear in All That Glitters as secondary characters. I didn’t remember until my second to last reading before publication my oldest son’s name also makes a brief appearance as a farm hand. 

Modern day tales are a little different. Writers recommend the consideration of the personality of your character and the location of the story when choosing character names. I also just learned you should use different first letters to keep characters distinguished from one another. In my new novel, the leads are Lindsay and Lucas. I haven’t decided if they are going to change or not. The names shouldn’t go over the top either: although, I did write in a Habakkuk to add a bit of humour. It’s also suggested you use soft consonants for softer characters, like Amelia for a pleasant travelling companion, and hard consonants for strong characters. Which brings us to Jodi’s choice for naming a character, she chose the:    

 – Muscle bound former military medic from Texas with a cute drawl. He works on the mission rescuing kids from difficult situations and giving them a new home.

And her name of choice is   ….   Cordell Sweet (Cord for short.)

What a great name for a strong character. Unique and memorable, Cord was named after her Grandma’s brother who passed away at the young age of 21. His last name gives a salute to Jodi’s own family.

Thanks so much, Jodi. I can’t wait to see how Cord’s character develops!

You all have yourselves a great week!

And The Winner Is ...

Greetings. Here’s hoping you all had a fabulous Christmas and New Year’s!

They say when writing a novel you should go with what you know. All That Glitters weaves a tale about the Klondike era. Not something I knew, but a time period I found fascinating. Perhaps someday I will write the sequel knocking about in my head. In the meantime, I thought I should follow the advice and go with what I know. The new novel, which doesn’t have a title yet and I call it The Philippines, was inspired by a missions trip Matt and I took with our pastor and seven Bible School students in 2012. The characters do not resemble the students (I promise) who travelled with us but some of the activities and the settings definitely do. The cast of characters grew after I began writing but the main characters are as follows (at least at the moment):

 – Anxiety ridden, professional student with a bad attitude toward men and the church. She’s been kicked out of the nest and finds herself leading a group of students on a mission’s trip to the Philippines.

– Brilliant underachiever who’s loved the above since he was ten and can’t give up on the dream of marrying her. He wangles his way onto the trip as the male leader and finds caring for orphans a stretching experience.

– Goofy, ADD type who talks a lot. He’s impulsive and creative and his name can’t be changed because he’s supposed to be a ridiculous example of names parents call their kids.

– Plumpish sweetheart of a girl with a serious need to please. She’s klutzy and avoids confrontation but can’t wait to spend time with the orphaned babies and children.

– A mini Billy Graham who is out to save the world. He loves to wear suits and embarrasses easily. He’s uncomfortable around kids and new situations but has a knack for matchmaking.

 – Gorgeous, athletic type with a chip on her shoulder. She went on the trip to avoid the cold winter and constantly challenges the leaders. She hopes to find a love interest while on the mission’s trip.

– Muscle bound former military medic from Texas with a cute drawl. He works on the mission rescuing kids from difficult situations and giving them a new home.

Congratulations to Jodi, from Edmonton, AB who won the opportunity to name a character! Next blog we will find out who she named and why.

Have a great week!

God's Sense of Humour - Part Two

I wish the best Christmas to all of you. Enjoy the season with loved ones and friends!

No blog next week. January's sixth blog we'll learn who won the chance to rename a character in my next novel!

. . .

     "I've always wanted one of these,” she said.

     "Me too, I just bought a used one from the cupcake shop. Maybe another one will come up and I can let you know.” I tried to keep the smugness out of my voice.

     "You would do that?"

     Not a big deal. I could let her know when the shop sold off another one.

     “You would give me your mixer?”

     I narrowed my eyes. Was she serious? “I said. I just bought a used one the other day from the cupcake place. I’ll let you know if another one comes up for sale.” I looked over at Grace and she shrugged her shoulders.

     “I can’t believe you want to give me your mixer. That’s so perfect! Ever since the arthritis in my hands has gotten worse I haven’t been able to make bread. I heard these work great.”

     Huh? I glanced over my shoulder and then back to Robin. Why is she hearing something different from what I’m saying? Ha ha, Lord, I don’t find this funny.  Yes, I know they serve You six months out of the year on the mission field.  And yes, I know it’s a sacrifice and they don’t have a lot of money. Sure, I understand You’ve blessed Matt with a good paying job. But no, I still don’t want to give away my mixer.

     Robin reached out and patted the glossy metal. “Thanks, Lisa.”

     All right, I get it. “Merry Christmas Robin- I’ll drop it by on Friday.

     A week later, over supper, Matt asked me what I wanted for Christmas.

    “For Christmas,” I pulled in a deep breath, “all I want is a white Kitchen Aid mixer.”

     “Didn’t you just give one of those away?”

     “I don’t want to talk about it.”

My seldom used, but often polished, mixer.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

God's Sense of Humour - Part One

This week's post is a two part Christmas story of how God taught me a lesson about comparing myself to others.

Remember to join my quarterly newsletter or blog list before December 31, 2015 for a chance to rename a character in my next novel (I'm at the halfway point).

I stepped into the shop; the green and red bells above the door jingled as I brushed the snow from my jacket sleeves. From across the room, the gleaming white curves and bits of decorative chrome called to me. The box-board sign attached said “Gently Used $40.00”. Only forty dollars for that beauty? Thank you Lord!

I remembered the first time I coveted the Kitchen Aid mixer. A bunch of home-school families gathered together to celebrate the Christmas season. The snack offerings ranged from exquisite, home-made, phyllo pastry sausage rolls to hand ground, organic wheat cinnamon buns. My soggy, mixed hors D’oeuvres taken from a yellow box - although fresh from the hostess’s six burner commercial oven - looked like a poor cousin in the amazing spread.  If only I owned a Kitchen Aid Mixer, with an assortment of the twenty-one different attachments available, like the one nestled on the Italian marble countertenor. The culinary world would never be the same.

Growing kids, home renovations, car repairs etc. gobbled up the household funds and my general lack of talent in the baking department meant a top of the line mixer never became a priority. Until now. What did I have to lose? My voice quaked when I asked the woman behind the counter of the cupcake shop if the mixer was still for sale. She nodded and we closed the deal. Carrying my precious bundle home, I dreamt of recipe after recipe. Matt would be so thrilled.

A couple of days later, I went along with my friends Robin and Grace to buy groceries in the city for a local Bible College. We wandered through Costco’s crowded aisles and Robin stopped in front of the Kitchen Aid Mixer display. Her hand reached out and traced the smooth curves.

.... to be continued next Wednesday!

My Wish for Paris

Last year we traveled by train through France and stayed for a week in Paris the city of love or the city of light perhaps depending on your frame of mind. We had heard the stories of rude Parisians and so we were surprised by the kindness and hospitality of its citizens.  They were by far the nicest individuals on our entire trip through Europe.

I couldn’t wait to see the Eiffel Tower. My grandmother kept a miniature on the top of her upright grand piano. The tiny figurine looked magical and I dreamed of someday visiting the real one. When we walked from our apartment to an embankment overlooking the city, a hint of mist shrouded the base of the incredible 1063 foot tower.

Gustave Eiffel built the tower, amid controversy, over one hundred twenty years ago for the 1889 World Fair. More people pay to visit the Eiffel Tower than any other monument in the world; it takes forty kilometers of lighted garlands and twenty thousand lights to light it at night.

We continued our walk through the city streets, across a bridge, and past several rows of tents selling trinkets before reaching the lush park where the monument stands. Magical indeed! The lacy iron work stretched on forever above our heads poking into the now blue sky. Awe mingled with joy as I looked up through the intricate layers of metal. How could something so fine and delicate extend so straight and high? The answer: a hidden foundation of twenty foot thick concrete slabs sitting on twenty foot diameter pilings descending forty-nine feet into the ground.

Paris suffered a terrible loss in the last month and my thoughts are with them. As they view the Eiffel Tower may they be reminded of their strength and courage, and may the foundation of compassion and generosity they share with visitors extend to one another in the difficult days ahead.

What a Fridge Taught Me About Marriage

Greetings! I've been blessed with the opportunity to guest blog on www.thekoalamom.com today. Check out Bonnie's page where she shares her thoughts on motherhood, marriage, and homeschooling. 

      The salad dressing thumped into the correct slot in the fridge door. And then I stretched and rescued the mayonnaise from obscurity behind the Apple Cider Vinegar.  Why are yesterday’s leftovers on the bottom shelf behind a bag of oranges?  Is it really so difficult to put things back in the fridge where they belong? I didn’t think so. It was very reasonable to expect the ketchup to be in the same place every time I opened the fridge door. The issue needed to be addressed.

     "Matt."

     No Answer.

    “Matt! Can you hear me? I need to talk to you about the fridge.”

     My husband appeared from around the corner. “What?”

     "The fridge – you never put anything back where it belongs.”

    “So?”

    “What do mean “so”?

    His eyes locked on mine; his lips wrinkled against one another, and then he opened the cupboard door to his right. “See these bowls; I put them back where they belong.” He pointed to the glass cabinet on the far wall. “See those Starbucks mugs; I put those back where they belong. What more do you want?”

    “What more do I want? I want you to put stuff back in the fridge where it makes sense!”

    “I never remember where things go; I really don’t think it matters.”

     He didn’t think it mattered? Our home may be his castle but it was my whole world - a mini corporation. It wouldn’t thrive on disorder. And, I had a million things to do every day; I couldn’t be playing hide and seek every time I needed something from the fridge. Never mind that he managed a gas plant facility and dealt with the headaches that went with it. How could he possibly think our fridge didn’t matter?

     I saw three options to deal with our problem:

      1)   I could put everything away myself, all the time, and resent Matt for it.

      2)   I could let the issue go, waste time looking for fridge items, and resent Matt for it.

      3)   I could throw a fit, until he gave in, and he resents me for it.

     Option number three promised to save me the most time in the future.

    Married for twenty-nine years, Matt and I have gripped hands and weathered huge waves determined to swamp our relationship. We’ve poured prayers and God’s Word on hopeless situations and celebrated the Lord’s faithfulness. So why would such a simple thing like the arrangement of our fridge threaten the harmony of our home? Perhaps I’d already discovered the answer. Even the everyday situations in our marriage needed an application of prayer and the Word.

      So, I used option four. The one where my heart was telling me “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.” (Proverbs 15:1 ESV) Lord, help me!

     "Matt … do you care that I care?”

     "Yes, I do.”

     Great answer!

     Lord, thank you for your faithfulness in big and small situations and, Lord, thank you for Sharpies. Amen.

The Tale of the Super Joint

“But I want you to be wise as to what is good and innocent as to what is evil.” (Romans 16:19b ESV)

The rows of colourful shelving units sitting outside the beleaguered warehouse called to me as we sped past. Matthew turned the truck around and pulled up in front of the shop so we could take a look. When we are on holiday, it’s my prerogative to stop at every quaint shop along the way advertising hubcaps to dog coats.

With patient friends in tow, we browsed their selection and my heart settled on a barn red design which would complete our downstairs bathroom. I bartered with the proprietor and we settled on a price; however, when he mentioned needing to go upstairs, where it was less dusty, to use the debit machine my stomach did a flip flop. I crushed Matt’s toes as I walked by and he caught the subtle hint and followed me as I followed Johnny Depp gone to seed through the half door of the workshop. Two Saint Bernards and an enormous pit bull nuzzled at my waistline as we crossed the floor of the long workshop heaped with sawdust. We ascended the stairs under the cardboard “Caution Dogs Eating” sign and meandered through a makeshift kitchen and warehouse/living room. In a dusty corner, perched atop an even dustier desk sat the elusive debit machine.

It was about this time Johnny began regaling us with the benefits of smoking pot to combat the summer’s heat on the upper floor. I wondered why he didn’t just go outside and sit by the lake; it would be cooler and had the added benefit of a stunning view. He continued sharing the benefits of his habit and we nodded our heads politely as we traipsed our way back through the labyrinth. Upon arriving at the front door, he raised his arms with a final flourish and pointed to a ghastly seven foot gargoyle.

“The stuff is so good, you light up one joint and by the time you’re done you’ve created a masterpiece.”

Eeks, I don’t think I need any! Perhaps I should have listened to that still, small flip flop.

Tear Your Heart Out

Sometimes when reading the Bible a phrase will shoot from the page like an arrow and pierce my heart. In chapter two of the book of Joel the words “rend your hearts and not your garments” hit their mark. Joel, which means the Lord is God, wrote his warning in the ninth century B.C. during a time when locusts ate every green thing across the entire nation and a severe drought destroyed the rest. 

The people must have been discouraged. “What the cutting locust left, the swarming locust has eaten. What the swarming locust left, the hopping locust has eaten, and what the hopping locust left, the destroying locust has eaten.” (Joel 1:4 ESV) Some days doesn’t your life feel similar? What the cutting economy left, the swarming tax department has eaten. What the swarming tax department left … (sorry, we’re dealing with some ridiculous tax issues - insert whatever’s going on in your life.) Joel’s lament crosses the barrier of time. 

But Joel doesn’t leave us lamenting. In the middle of chapter two he says, “’Yet even now,” declares the Lord, ‘return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; and rend your hearts and not your garments.’ Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love; and he relents over disaster.”  

Am I willing to tear my heart before the Lord? Am I willing to be real before Him and call upon His mercy? Can I set aside the pretention of torn garments or outer repentance and trust the Lord enough to bare my very soul? I sure hope so. What could be better than abandoning myself to His infinite grace, mercy, and love?

Book Cover Phase – All That Glitters

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve gone back and forth with the publisher deciding on an appropriate cover for All That Glitters. Arriving at this stage takes a lot of work. I thought I would give you a brief rundown of my journey.

The book rattled around in my head for about five years before I put a single word on paper. Partly because I procrastinated and partly because I never thought I would finish the manuscript – judging by the multitude of unfinished projects lying around my house. As the kids were leaving the nest, I decided to get serious and began writing. I still didn’t set any schedule for myself and wrote in stops and starts. Within two years, I finished the novel up to 52,000 words and then worked with a well-known editor out of the US to improve glaring grammar errors and to work out plot issues. She encouraged me to lengthen the novel so it would be considered full length and not a novella; however, I chose not to listen.  

In 2012, I submitted the novella to a couple of publishers and it thrilled my heart to have a complete manuscript requested by a Canadian publisher from Ontario. It could have been the end of my journey; but it wasn’t. The publisher has not contacted me since.

I realized I needed to learn more about the writing process. I read books on writing, entered writing competitions, and attended writer’s conferences which were huge factors in developing my writing ability, and I still have much to learn. 

2014 brought the year of the rewrite; I buckled down to a schedule and added another 20,000 words to the manuscript. In early 2015, I submitted the new and improved version to quite a few publishers and Ambassador International offered me a contract.

Edits, edits, and more edits followed and we are now at the fun stage of choosing some of the creative elements. The publisher developed several cover concepts and we decided together on the best one. Attached you will find a cut and paste mock-up of the cover for All That Glitters set to release in February 2016.

PS Please keep it our secret. We wouldn’t want the concept stolen.

Even the Little Things?

         As we settled into our chairs at ladies Bible study, the woman sitting next to me gushed,“I just have to tell you guys something. You know at night - when your husband reaches over in bed …”                                                                                                                              She reached her arm out; it hovered uncomfortably over my chest. I wasn’t sure what was coming next. I know her, but not that well, and I didn’t really want to complete the illustration.               “And you’re just … like …”                                                                                         “Talk to me next spring?” I filled in the blanks hoping she would drop her hand, and she did.                                                                                                                             “Ya, because you’re just so tired, running around with the kids, trying to get everything done.”                                                                                                                          That I understood, I may not be running around with kids anymore but I am trying to get everything done and some days even my tired is tired.                                                                She continued. “So I prayed that the Lord would make me attracted to my husband.”                    Interesting. Over the last week, I had been praying a similar prayer. Lord, help me not to be too tired to be attracted to my husband. But there was no way I was going to admit it. She’d roused my curiosity though; how had the Lord answered her prayer?                                                         “So later on, when I was watching my son playing hockey, my husband walked in. Even though he was wearing dirty coveralls and a grubby, baseball cap, I thought, wow, he is a good looking man. The Lord is so faithful even in the little things!”                                                          I was happy for her; the Lord had answered her prayer right away. And it encouraged me to persist in my prayers. But the Lord does all things in his own time, so I will continue to wait on him:)

         “Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.” (Romans 12:12 ESV)   

Seriously?

My cell phone warbled late at night. What would the “picture message” sent from my youngest son hold? Maybe it would be a picture of a giant fuzzy heart with the words “I love you Mom!” or a picture of one of his four dogs performing some crazy stunt. Nope, I received this. The sight of my son with his new, ball python wrapped around his head; however, did not warm the cockles of my heart nor bring me sweet slumber through the night.

According to Genesis 3:15, I wasn’t supposed to like the picture. In the passage the Lord says to the serpent “I will put enmity between you and the woman,” (ESV) and I can honestly say I have enmity between me and snakes. I hate them.

The baby of the family, Joel, is our rebel child and he sports tatts, piercings, and muscles. When we walk down the street together, people crane their necks. I don’t know if they want a second look at my son or if they want to provide assistance to the woman who might be in mortal danger.

Have I lost sleep over him? Yes, I have. Has my chest clenched with near panic when I think of him? Yes, it has. And then I remember the sweet, towheaded, little boy, who loved people - the one who could draw a crowd into joy within moments.  I remember the five year old boy who poked his head out of the camper door and said “I need to invite Jesus into my heart.”

The Lord doesn’t forget our rebels. His presence follows them wherever they go. “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.” (John 10:28) Mothers of rebels take heart; in the end Jesus wins. The verse in Genesis tells us the serpent merely bruises Jesus’ heel but Jesus bruises the serpent’s head! 

Are We Toast? Nope.

Camping – Lisa’s Definition  – Leaving the trappings of home to enjoy the simple life and the                                              beautiful outdoors.

Camping – Matt’s Definition – Figuring out how to make the contraptions of home work in the                                           wilderness.    

Why does my frame shudder every time my husband lifts his large palm toward me and says ‘Don’t worry, Baby, I got this.” It might be the memory of black smoke curling across the living room’s white ceiling after it billowed from the fireplace. Or perhaps the fused plastic concoction I removed from the microwave when I returned home from grocery shopping. Or maybe the reason is one of the many other similar disasters.  

After twenty-nine years, I realized it was nigh time to try and deal with my lack of trust. So I held my tongue when Matt suggested he had the perfect solution for warming the cinnamon buns while we were camping.  And why wouldn’t a small tray placed on your toaster and attached to a plug in powered by your nifty, commercial, solar panel not work?

Like any relationship, we both bring something to the table to share. In our marriage, it’s often him - innovation, her - caution. A healthy relationship explores the capability of both parties and allows for the possibility of mistakes. We’re two parts to a whole. We are not perfect parts and we are not a perfect whole - but we are committed. “So they are no longer two but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate.” (Mathew 19:6 ESV)  

The cinnamon buns tasted delicious. Melted glaze dripped like honey onto our tongues. And you know the new burnished browns and scalloped edges of my toaster bring a smile to my lips every time I see them.  

All Roads Lead to Rocky! Federal Election 2015

My piping hot Crème Brulee sputtered in my throat as my normally quiet friend’s skinny arms flailed in the air and she declared “Saying all paths lead to God is the same as saying all roads lead to Rocky Mountain House.” The boisterous discussion in the coffee shop had begun when I shared about a recent Christian conference I attended where the key note speaker appeared to believe the above notion.  

After the loud declaration of my friend, a young mother sitting at the table next to ours told the group she appreciated our passion. (So nice to know somebody does!) She then went on to tell us how she’d never fasted and prayed before but felt the Lord impress upon her heart to do so for the upcoming federal election.  

I don’t know who will win the election next Monday, but I do know the Lord chooses our leaders. “There is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God.” (Romans 13:1 ESV)

A big thank you to the young woman, wherever you are, for your bravery in reminding strangers that practicality should win out over philosophy. I pray the Lord will hear from the faithful, down on our knees, across the beautiful country we call home and heal our land - Canada.

“If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14)

Where’s the Knight in Tarnished Armour?

“They say unto him, Master this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act.”  (John 8:4 KJV) 

Spiritual leaders brought a woman to Jesus who was caught in the “very act” of adultery and asked Him if she deserved to be stoned. Where’s the man? The woman didn’t commit adultery by herself; and yet, her accusers tossed her in front of Jesus alone and humiliated. History says the event happened during a feast and immorality was not unusual. The woman still risked her marriage and reputation on a man who slunk away way when their sin was discovered. Why wasn’t he by her side as she faced her accusers? Why didn’t he shout out, “Don’t take her. Take me if you want to punish someone.”

No knight in tarnished armour rode in to save our damsel. He left her to face the band of merry accusers alone. But Jesus ignored them and their question bending over to write in the sand with his finger - twice. We don’t know what He wrote, but it could have been the sins of the men in the crowd. We do know; however, one by one, the men convicted by their own conscience departed until Jesus and the woman stood alone.

Jesus then asked the woman if anyone remained to condemn her and she answered, “No man, Lord.” Jesus didn’t condemn the woman either. He said, “go, and sin no more.” Step into forgiveness. Walk away from your sin. Keep walking.

Jesus offered the woman a hope and a future, a future without condemnation or guilt, a future full of life and free from the entanglement of sin. The tarnished knight didn’t ride in, but Jesus did.

Do you think the woman listened to Jesus?

Good Fences … Poor Marriages

If good fences make good neighbors, good retaining walls make poor marriages.

First warning, the quarter turn of my stomach when the bespectacled fellow behind the counter in the landscape store looked out the window and said, “Is that what you’re driving? You won’t be able to take all the blocks in one trip.”

No? The retaining wall would rise only eighteen inches and extend only forty feet. How much could it weigh? Three trips with a truck and trailer and four tons later the blocks sat in lopsided piles on the back lawn. And over the next week, the neighbors were treated to several high volume remakes of I Love Lucy similar to this one:

Lucy    (hunched over, knees in the mud, attempting to level a  foundation block) Ricky, I can’t do it. I’m telling you I just can’t.

Ricky    What do you mean you can’t? This was all your idea!

Lucy    My Idea! Look, the wall became our idea when you agreed. Now help me!

Ricky   I’ll help you all right, Lucy, but you’re going to do what I tell you!

Lucy   (raising her fist in the air) Listen, mister, if you think for even a minute I’m going to do it your way, you’ve got another thing coming.

I slogged on alone with my makeshift strings and levels. One evening Matthew leaned on his shovel handle and said, “Come here and take a look.” Knees creaking and back breaking I crawled to the end of the wall. It looked level and straight … but it veered six inches off course.

We apologized, hugged, and then began working together. By using our strengths to help one another, and not to hinder, the wall was built.  

 “Submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ.” (Ephesians 5:21 ESV)