Monthly Archives: September 2020

Patiently Waiting

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The last two days on my route to work, I encountered a sight that I thought I would share about and how it lead to this week’s muse. On the corner of the intersection where I turn down the street, was an attractive young woman dressed in a turquoise jumpsuit with matching coloured Covid mask. Her jet black hair was long and hung straight down passed her waist. The first day I saw her, she was crossing the street in front of my car and I simply thought she was thoroughly enjoying her music as she bopped across the intersection in her earbuds. Yet, her animations were a bit too boisterous not to be noticed. As she neared the corner of the sidewalk, she raised her hands and began pointing and waving at passing cars like some pro wrestler entering the arena for the heavyweight championship. Her smile was wide and whatever the words were to the song, I was unknowing, but I couldn’t help but smile at her exuberance.

I’d like to imagine she was praising the Lord — bopping to some upbeat worship tune and just couldn’t help but share His love with the passing cars. More than likely she was fighting the voices in her head, and lived with some issue that perhaps lead to her bewildered actions, which is sad, but it made me think: am I that excited about life and the people God puts before me?! So much so, that I would share my story (or simply my praises) with passing vehicles? Without a care or thought to what the rest of the world might think of my mental stability?

Photo: Jay Clark (Unsplash)

I had to attend jury duty this past week, which was an experience in itself in this post Covid-19 world. The venues had to be increased from the simple courtroom holding spaces to convention centers to allow for “social distancing” of the potential jurors. There were about five waiting rooms with about 45 people in each… seated 2 metres apart in single rows of chairs. Each with faces covered in masks, each attending to their own worlds of reading materials, laptops and cell phone messages. No one talked, no one smiled at each other. No one barely looked past the back of the person’s head in front of them. We simply existed, shuffled about like ticketed cattle, waiting for our number to be called (or praying it doesn’t get called). It was all very odd.

Each of these two scenarios had me wondering about the people in my world. My neighbourhoods and the people I come into “contact” with everyday. 2 Peter 3:9 says this:

 9 The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.

NIV

The full chapter describes the “Day of the Lord” — His return to earth. I am to be anticipating His return, yet anxiously sharing the good news, so that “everyone shall come to repentance”. I’m afraid I do a miserable job. I may giggle and ponder at the exuberance of those who are gifted in evangelism… sharing their faith at street corners. I may contemplate the sheer volume of the population “still to be saved”. I send my gifts to those who devote their lives to the cause, both at home and overseas. The truth is, it only takes one to win one. To simply tell my story, and let God do the rest. It’s not my job to change hearts. It’s not my job to turn lives around or fix the broken. He’s merely waiting patiently for me to open the door for someone. I’m slightly convicted. What’s my excuse? I’d love to hear your thoughts! Comment about how you share your faith! Motivate me, so the Lord doesn’t have to be so patient!

Garbage In…

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It’s been a long, stressful day, and I am tired and a wee bit grumpy. In fact, the last month or so has been long and wearisome. Covid-19 is taking a toll, the new puppy is full of energy, I started a new-to-me job, it’s been difficult deciding how to school the kids, church in person or church online… it’s been a challenge navigating this pandemic and all the seemingly normal tasks have had added demands and adjustments. Maybe you’ve been feeling it too. Perhaps my job is not to complain. Joy in circumstances and all that. I don’t know about you, but some days I have a hard time being joyful. Some days I have a hard time connecting and being the light of Jesus in ways I know that I ought. Some days I choose not to shine.

You wanna know what the new puppy did this week? He’s been barfing socks. He’s a labrador — and I know they have iron stomachs, but he has a particular affinity for socks… and with a house full of teenage boys, socks seem to be quite readily available. And he’s quick, too. And so, I have been panicking about intestinal obstructions, up at night worrying about possible major surgeries in our future for exploratory searches to find foreign bodies — and the guilt about not having enough energy to follow around the dog and his adventures in eating strange things. I was told not to worry “he throws them up whole”… and I wondered at this gift – until I got to see it for myself. Yup, an esophageal miracle: sport sock completely intact, gagged back up, packaged neatly in a thin film of bile. (Sorry * graphic warning* for those of you who are squeamish). It’s actually quite impressive in a sword swallowing magician kind of way… how did that little body encapsulate such a bulky thing and expel it, all while wagging it’s tail and happily playing for the last hour?

Alright, enough of the gory details — but I share them with you to explore some thoughts with me. I’m sure many of you have heard the phrase: “garbage in, garbage out”. It’s actually a computer reference, implying that what you enter into a software will influence the information the computer will spit back at you. Perhaps you’ve even experienced it as my new co-workers and I have as we navigated this new computer system implemented in the last few weeks. Unless you follow the correct steps, you don’t get to the place you need to be. And that can be frustrating. And so it is with life sometimes.

When your faith journey is “disconnected” or you’ve been entering in all the wrong stuff, it tends to come back up. Or come back out. And not in the way you want it to. We get grumpy, burnt out, and ill tempered. People say that you need some “self care”. A time to replenish and recoup. And although those words seem fostering and valid, I’ve been challenged recently about that whole idea of “self” care. If, as believers, we have died to self, are we feeding the wrong entity? If He is the vine and we are the branches, does watering the leaf do any good? Or is it better to quench the roots? To dig deep and choose nourishing food that sustains and grows us. Not fillers made of old socks. Do hot baths and candles really replenish the soul?

Do Hot Baths and candles really replenish the soul?

Now, please, don’t get me wrong… I love a good spa day as well as the next girl. And I’ve convinced myself I “need” them once and a while too. Yet, no amount of warm drinks and essential oils are going to repair a damaged heart. It takes the life giving, supernatural gift of grace given to us by a perfect heavenly father. I’m saddened that we are missing some forms of our corporate worship connections during this pandemic. Even being the introvert I am — fellowshipping with other believers fuels the flame of my heart. It is the soul food I sometimes require.

So, what of it, my friend? Are you spending your time devouring sports socks only to throw them up later? Guilty as charged here this week. There. I even admit it to the whole internet. I’m not connected in the way I need to be. But there is always tomorrow…

The Good OLD Days

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Welcome back to another week of me feeling old. Wait. That didn’t come out right. Welcome to another week of being old. No. Thinking about being old? Thinking about old things. Yeah. That’s it. Welcome back to another week of musing about old things. I’ve been mulling this one around a bit, and trying to figure out what to pinpoint my thoughts on, but it doesn’t seem to be working. So, I’m just gonna jump right in and see where this post ends up, okay?

Old covered bridge near Kitchener-Waterloo

Okay, back to being old. Uh, I mean thinking about old things. I’ve been diving in to some “time period” books as of late. Now, I am no history buff, so I don’t devour stories of pioneer women locked into hardships and whirlwind romances, but I can appreciate the struggles of these ladies and trying to balance homemaking and being present in civil war times and ‘doing their part’ for the country. Or trying to live big dreams in a world where women are underappreciated and pegged into certain, shall we say, domestic rolls. Somehow, I think American history and the 1800’s seem to be a book genre all it’s own — and kudos to the authors who research such topics. Again, I’m no history buff, but it seems there are a lot of you out there who read these things.

I’m not so sure Canadian times were much different from their American counterparts, especially when it came to homemaking: we have apple pies and little houses on prairies here, too! And it is not just in my recent literature choices. In fact, I’ve been seeing lots of people “returning to their roots” as of late. Perhaps the pandemic of 2020 has allowed us the time to bake from scratch, sew and craft, and appreciate the “good old days” of family gatherings, game playing and gardening. Homesteading has become mainstream — especially for millenials. So what draws us to these old fashioned treasures? Do they hold a mystery of some sort?

A few weeks back, we took an impromptu, post Covid holiday to the Kitchener-Waterloo area in southern Ontario. With our new puppy. That, in itself, is an adventure, but I’ll try and stick to the topic. For those who are unfamiliar, this area is known for its large population of mennonite groups and such delights as the St. Jacob’s farmer’s market. A rich heritage and belief system of “old ways” and “traditions” (not to mention a plethora of mouth watering baked goods and fresh produce!) We’ve been numerous times and have enjoyed the bounty of harvest at several times of the year. This time, we ventured out of our traditional visitor spots and explored some ‘off the beaten path’ trails and smaller towns. We ate lunch at Bonnie Lou’s Cafe (on the patio with the pup) and the Mitton crew heartily recommend it! Oh, the pie….

We also stumbled upon “The West Montrose Covered Bridge” the only remaining covered bridge in Ontario, affectionately known as “the kissing bridge” because the wood covering allows for *ahem* some shadowed privacy. I suppose some traditions never die. Which brings me back to things of “old”. Why do we hold dear to traditions? Are they better ways? Does the future hold promise? Should we change for the sake of change? I don’t know. The jury is out for me on this muse. Some days I feel stuck in the middle of old school pad and paper vs. cell phone texts. Does church need to “get with the times” or be examples of time honoured traditional practice? Is the Bible “old fashioned”? Can Christians be relevant to this fast paced generation of instant gratification? Where does the balance lie?

Does it even come up in conversation anymore? What I do know is that God’s word is timeless. It has passed the test of times past and will continue to inspire and convict well into the future . It’s supernatural. It continues to reach even the youngest generation. Still, we need mentors and wise elders to council and enrich. And vibrant new voices to challenge and question. Perhaps our trip to the KW area was a good example for us: Modern highways and hotels and rich,homemade pies baked in tradition, all with a little love thrown in under the shadow of a covered bridge — for balance between the two worlds.