The Next Step

Posted on by
1

Do you have a fitbit? One of those little devices that count how many steps you’ve taken and what you need to make your optimal steps for the day? Or how much you’ve slept and ate and who you should marry? I don’t have one. We did have a “pre-fitbit” step counter once… I think we got it out of a cereal box. You clipped it to your pant leg and you could trick it into adding steps by swinging your leg or frantically waving your arms. It obviously didn’t fulfill its purpose very well.

Funny how we focus on “steps”. Moving forward, moving back, constantly checking where you are and where you should be going. Now, I am a girl who likes to plan. I like to check off my steps and put the x in the boxes. I follow the list and love instructions with bullet points and numbers. I follow the steps. But what if you come to the fork in the road? The edge of the cliff, and you are unsure of your next step? What happens then?

Perhaps it is a big decision. Perhaps a life goal. Perhaps a next stage in life. How do you feel when you are tip-toe with that edge and your next step will determine whether you soar or fall off the cliff? What happens then? The fitbit doesn’t tell you what to do with your steps, it just shows you how many you have taken. You have to set the goal.

We studied John the Baptist at church this week, and I couldn’t help but compare his ministry to a few people I follow on social media. There were “big announcements” posted and “new projects” to be taken on, and I noticed that life seems to be timeless when it comes to the edge-of-the-cliff decisions. Everyone eventually comes to that point where you have to take the next step. Sometimes you celebrate it, sometimes you mourn it, and sometimes it just quietly moves forward.

If you are diligent, you make informed decisions… you pray, study, ask the experts, debate, consult, read… and then? John chose to end his career of “preparing the way” because the Messiah had showed up! He worked himself out of his job. Some people set the stage ahead of time and contract themselves into a plan or timeframe. Then the time ends and you stop. Some of you are vision castors — entrepreneurial types who love the prospect of something new — and your life just becomes an ebb and flow of projects and plans. Some of us peddle backwards, afraid of the unknown and where the path may lead.

I’m learning to be patient. To plant my steps purposefully. But the journey is hard and the path rocky. My footing is not always secure and I seek answers. What now? Which way? Should I wait here while others catch up, or plunge ahead and take the risk of not knowing the path? A wise person once told me: Just take the next step.

This is My Father’s World

Posted on by
3

Ahhh… today is the first of October. And in Canada, fall is beginning to show itself in full colour. With it, comes the sigh of satisfaction at a bountiful harvest, and the joys of quieter days. (We are going to ignore the fact that the weather can’t make up its mind and both snow and 30 degree celsius temperatures happen all in the same time frame — just work with me and my idealized vision of autumn, okay?!). I wasn’t sure what to muse about this week, and was going through the things that have been recently on my mind: Greta Thunberg and her fight for global change, aboriginal celebrations of strength, fall fairs, baked warm apples and pumpkin spice lattes, and for some reason, this old hymn popped into my head:

This Is My Father’s World (Lyrics)

This is my Father’s world,

And to my listening ears

All nature sings, and round me rings

The music of the spheres.

This is my Father’s world:

I rest me in the thought

Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;

His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world,

The birds their carols raise,

The morning light, the lily white,

Declare their maker’s praise.

This is my Father’s world,

He shines in all that’s fair;

In the rustling grass I hear him pass;

He speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world.

O let me ne’er forget

That though the wrong seems oft so strong,

God is the ruler yet.

This is my Father’s world:

Why should my heart be sad?

The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!

God reigns; let the earth be glad!

  • Photo KMitton
  • Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
  • Photo KMitton
  • Photo KMitton
Love the diversity of this season!!

“This is My Father’s World”, was originally published, posthumously, by the author’s wife in 1901, in a book of his poems. Maltbie Davenport Babcock, was a New York minister who frequented the Niagara Escarpment and Lake Ontario, simply to marvel at “His Father’s World”. I think he was close enough to Canada to appreciate the true beauty displayed, especially during autumn. The popular hymn was adapted from Babcock’s poem by his friend and musician, Franklin Shepherd, in 1915. (The original poem contained 16 verses of 4 lines each).

I was reminded of the hymn back on my travels to Wolfville, Nova Scotia this summer, (you can read about that adventure here) and discovered it is also themed in the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. As the camera pans the rolling hills of the Shire and all the familiar simplicity of a hobbit’s homelife, we are reminded that despite this era of evil, this is My Father’s World.

So, as our sunflowers begin to droop from faces ladened with seeds, as the leaves change colour and eventually die, as fall mums and ripe apples display their ruby redness against a backdrop of golden hues, I hope you relish the thought that this is my Father’s world. Perhaps you’re off to drown your troubles in a quiet coffee shop with a “grande PSL”. I’m here to remind you: That though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the Ruler yet. Happy first of October, my beloveds!

Rock On

Posted on by
1

They say a diamond is a girl’s best friend. I think that’s true because a diamond is really just a big rock. When I was little, I loved rocks. I still like rocks, actually. Diamonds and otherwise. Have you ever been to one of those touristy-type places that have the gift shops with all the souvenirs? In Canada, it is usually filled with maple syrup and cheesy t-shirts and keychains with red maple leaves plastered all over them. Just beside the “make-a-souvenir-coin” machine (which costs a toonie to produce a copper penny — go figure) is usually a large bin with rocks of various colours and sizes. Sometimes it is filled with highly polished “jewels” and a little velvet pouch, and sometimes it has a more rustic feel, with jagged flint pieces or maybe even fossils. This bin always seemed to be the first place I headed when I was younger.

I’m not sure why, but I was thinking about this, this week, and the whole idea of “rocks”. What was the appeal to me? Why did I love to dig through this bin and search out the most special of samples? (I hardly ever bought any as they were always too expensive for a hunk of earth, but still…) I had a fairly large rock collection when I was younger. Those cool ones from the beach, with stripes of red granite or even man-made chunks of asphalt worn smooth by the lapping waves. Or memories of my kids who searched out the flattest stones to skip across the lake. Nothing like a toddler’s pocket full of pebbles to make a mom giggle. Saggy little butt cheeks. And Heaven forbid, you suggest leaving them on the path! Our minivan probably still has a few pebbles hidden in the drink holders!

The kids may have moved on from sagging pockets, but I still love a good geode and totally embarrassed my kids on a trip awhile back as I donned my safety goggles and hammer to crack open the beauty I had picked out of the bin. I even spent the money on that one. I will openly admit, I am the proud owner of a few rock piles… both inside and outside my house. I’m no geologist, but rocks are pretty cool.

If any of you followed us on our 30 Days of Blessings journey, you will remember the day we targeted Rocks. It was a simple reminder to focus on the strength of God’s character, and yet remember how something so seemingly mundane can be so beautiful. Glittering diamonds from lumps of coal and all that.

Amethyst is one of my favourites!

So, if you are searching for some encouragement today, imagine your younger self crouched over that big bin of colourful rocks. You dig and dig, and examine each one, hoping to find the perfect specimen. That one with just the perfect smoothness, or that hint of colour, or that sparkly spot that may mean gold or some other precious jewel embedded in the rough. When you’ve finally found it, you tuck it away lovingly in your black velvet pouch and pull the drawstrings tight. Your treasure has been found!

Now, imagine the rock is you. A diamond in the rough, waiting to be polished by the Master jewel maker, a treasure to be cherished. Displayed in His vast collection, handpicked from all the others, just because someone saw the potential of gold in your tiniest of cracks. God works like that. Or perhaps you have been worn smooth by the ever constant waves of life and you’ve been chosen, now, to soar across the expanse — simply for the shear joy of seeing you fly! You are a treasure.

Rock on, my fellow boulders, Rock on.