Walk a Mile in My Shoes?

I’ve had them several years. Custom orthotics made to specifically fit my flat feet. Sometimes I wore them, sometimes I didn’t, because switching between boots, shoes, and runners was a hassle. I finally caved and bought a second pair of orthotics to make things a bit more convenient. When the knee scope on March 30 triggered a tear in an ankle tendon, my feet needed all the support they could get, so I started wearing orthotics faithfully, inside and out. No sexy strappy summer sandals for me.

(Poor Henry, he really likes when I wear sexy shoes, but here I am, wearing sensible, supportive shoes, day in, day out. "I am strong woman," I say, flexing my biceps and speaking with a deep, thick, Slavic accent. "Musht wear shturdy shoes; goot to pull du plough.")

One day I couldn’t find the second pair. I looked high and low, in every boot, in every shoe, but the second pair had completely vanished. Sigh. Back to switching the first pair between different footwear every time I changed.

On a day when I had a number of errands to run, I was in a rush, and chose not to take time to swap the orthotics out of my gym shoes. I wore my good Clarks Wave walking shoe instead and tossed my workout shoes (with the orthotics) into the gym bag in the back of the vehicle.

One of my errands was at Costco. I didn’t think much of the beep I heard when I tossed my keys into my purse, but when I returned later to my vehicle, my heart stopped for a split second as I stood and surveyed the scene. The back hatch was sitting open (perhaps triggered by my remote key fob) and my gym bag was gone. A crime of opportunity that would yield almost no value to the thief but would cost me a great deal of money to replace. It held my swim gear, workout clothes, runners and, of course, the pricey custom orthotics. My only pair.

I ordered new ones, limped through life for the three weeks until they arrived and began swapping them out again. Snowboots are the hardest but they have become a daily requirement in Calgary since the snowfall started before Christmas. Boots are good. I often left the orthotics in them and started walking barefoot in the house again.

And enter gradually increasing foot pain to the point where, today, I was inspired to look once again for that illusive disappearing pair of orthotics I’d lost last winter. Again, I searched all the boots in the garage: hiking boots, rubber boots, old winter boots, even older Sorells, and really old (like 20 years) snowmobile boots. Remember those big white heavy padded knee high not-so-stylish-but-oh-so-warm monstronsities?

Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Zero.

Then I started in on scouring the hall closet. Rain boots, Harley boots, two old pair of Clarks Wave walkers (sure fit me like a glove), two pairs of Uggs. Really? Why?

And there, then, finally, in the deep recesses of the back side of the closet behind the shoe rack, I find ONE orthotic, laying loose. Could it be?!!! Excitedly, I dig further. Eureka!!! Praise Jesus!

Rejoice with me, for I have found the matching pair which was lost!

There are so many lessons here:

• clean up the closet
• give away some shoes and boots
• don’t be too much in a rush 
• always wear proper footwear
• be careful how you handle your key fob
• listen to the still small voice prompting you to look once more…

That's all well and good, but really, this is a blog post about joy. Taking time to stop and savour this precious, simple, little gift that will make life a little more comfortable, a little less hassled. And that is worthy of gratitude.

Thanks for listening in. Do you have a "rejoice with me" story?

Tiles of Time

Gratitude is the birthplace of joy. 

~Brené Brown

Ten years ago, while house-hunting on Thanksgiving weekend, I toured the house that would become my home. Two disparate things captivated me: the panoramic mountain view and the unique ceramic tile in the master bedroom with its indigo-and-linen pattern adorning the fireplace.

As I wake today from a rare Sunday afternoon nap, the low sun casts a golden spotlight through the open window onto those eclectic tiles that remind me (then, and every day since) of a warm, joy-filled vacation through Cinque Terre, Italy.

Much has transpired in those ten years: birthdays, holiday celebrations, graduation, empty nest, road trips, reunions, weddings, dear visitors, grief and loss, sleepless nights, tears, prayers. I strive to tuck each one into the cedar chest of life memories. Major events coexist alongside the innocuous beauty of brief moments: a gentle word, lingering sunsets, breathtaking sky, small blooms, tender glances, echoes of song and laughter, surprises, campfires, a first-year raspberry, juicy watermelon and faithfulness. Each one, observed, becomes a good and perfect gift, no matter how tiny, squirrelled away in a precious nook or safe cranny of memory's trove.

Treasures and sadness, light and dark, joy and mourning; these are not opposites, but complementary. I do not despise one for the sake of the opposite. One cannot exist without the other, not until eternity. I seek to embrace both extremes and all the various in-betweens, since we mostly live the greater fraction of our lives in the un-sensational middle-ground of Average.

For all of these gifts, and the mosaic they make of my life, may I be truly grateful. Amen.

Father's Day 2017

Here is a day to honour with gratitude the things our fathers did well, to cover with forgiveness the ways they fell, and remember with fondness the stories they'd tell. They were shaped by their fathers too, and so the generations follow.

Happy Fathers Day to the dads and their dads. Thanks for all the ways you love and provide and pray and play and laugh and lead.

May we all remember to run to the one Father who is always true, always good, who gently leads, guides, and heals the wounds we still hold.

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving

The sparrows and chickadee swarm the feeder
Snow drifts gentle down
The trickling fountain soothes
As the aroma of turkey rises
I sit quiet and cosy, coffee in hand
anticipate candied sweet potatoes
Green bean casserole
Mashed potatoes and gravy
Flaky butter rolls and salad
Pecan pie with whipped cream
Shared between family and friends
Traditions and gratitude
Thanks and grace
All good gifts
From our gracious, loving
Father of Light
Happy Canadian Thanksgiving!

Count the Cost

Teach us to number our days,

that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

(Psalm 90:12)

I understand some people on the autism spectrum have a compulsion to count. While I haven’t been diagnosed on the spectrum, I wondered what it might be like to number how many different items I touched to prepare my daily breakfast (26). Then it expanded to include the multiple times I touched each item and finally the end list of counting each individual action right through to clean up (74):

1. Open the fridge

2. Pull out blueberries

3. raspberries

4. coconut milk

5. and gluten-free bread

6. close the fridge

7. Put two slices in the toaster

8. Open the cupboard

9. Get a bowl

10. and a plate

11. close the cupboard

12. open the drawer

13. get a spoon

14. and a knife

15. set the plate and knife by the toaster

16. set the bowl and spoon on the island

17. open the pantry

18. pull out granola

19. and raisins

20. close the pantry

21. to the bowl, add granola

22. add raisins

23. add blueberries

24. add raspberries

25. add coconut milk

26. open the fridge

27. return the coconut milk and berries

28. close fridge

29. open another cupboard

30. get a mug 

31. close the cupboard

32. put mug on the kuerig

33. open the brew compartment

34. remove the used coffee k-cup 

35. put it in the k-cup recycling box

36. insert a fresh k-cup

37. close the brew compartment

38. get a pitcher

39. fill it with water from the fridge dispenser

40. refill the kuerig water reservoir

41. choose cup size to brew

42. push the brew button

43. open the pantry

44. put away the granola and raisins

45. close the pantry

46. take the toasted bread out of the toaster

47. put it on the plate

48. take the lid off the butter

49. use the knife to butter the toast

50. put the lid back on the butter

51. open the honey

52. use the knife to add it to one slice of toast

53. close the honey

54. cut the toast slices diagonally

55. pick up the plate

56. the bowl

57. the coffee

58. set it all on the table 

59. sit down in the chair 

60. and eat

61. collect the bowl & spoon

62. the plate

63. the knife from by the toaster 

64. set on counter

65. open dishwasher

66. put dishes in dishwasher

67. close dishwasher

68. pick up the dishcloth

69. turn on the faucet

70. wet the dishcloth

71. wipe the counters

72. rinse the dishcloth

73. wring it out

74. drape it to dry on the sink

I realize these are the privileges of a first-world, middle-class, retired woman. I am generally healthy, can move easily and have the financial resources to enjoy fruit even when it is out of season. I’ve lived 58 years and never before “counted” this type of daily ritual. I likely never will again. 

These simple actions are difficult or impossible for someone crippled by pain or injury. The ability to list them may be beyond the reach of someone with short term memory loss or mental illness. A depressed individual might not even be able to get out of bed. A homeless person wouldn’t have means to store perishables or to clean and store the dishes. A person with a demanding job might not have time to sit and eat in peace and certainly wouldn’t be mulling the idea of counting how many motions it takes to prepare breakfast. 

The request that God would teach us to number our days is from Psalm 90 – which also includes this beautiful appeal – one that has comforted me during times of very significant heartbreak:

Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love,

    that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.

Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,

    for as many years as we have seen trouble.

May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us;

    establish the work of our hands for us—

    yes, establish the work of our hands.

So what is the point?

I have just listed numerous things for which I can be grateful. I am teaching myself not to take the simple things for granted. I am numbering my motions so that I can number my moments and my hours and my days so that I can be wise in how many ways I expend my energy: serving myself, serving others. This is one way the work of my hands is established.

Some people knit or craft, I prefer to think philosophically and write. I am learning to never stop learning. To never take life, food, mobility, comfort, privilege (or even coffee) for granted. To be grateful. And to keep on doing what really counts.

Tomorrow, I go help clean the home of someone who can’t clean for themselves because they are planning a family member’s funeral. 

I won’t be counting anything but my blessings. I am wiser every time I do that.

What have you counted that has made you wiser?

How to Pray

In our rehearsal last night, our large choir was led in an amazing prayer time of praise and adoration – sharing our declarations of love, awe, wonder and gratitude for our precious Lord and Saviour, our awesome God and the beautiful Holy Spirit. We were reminded that in the Lord's Prayer, Jesus gives us the model of how we can structure our prayers. He begins with adoration, humility and surrender. We remind ourselves of who God is and align our hearts with His will, just as Christ anguished in the garden, "Not my will but thine be done."

Prayer can take many forms, but one simple acronym that many have found helpful for their personal quiet time is A.C.T.S.

A = Adoration

C = Confession

T = Thanksgiving

S = Supplication

Adoration is what we experienced last night. When we focus on God and who He is, not only in relation to us but who He is in the beauty of his holiness apart and separate from anything to do with us. If you find yourself at a loss for what to say in adoration, consider reading scripture (some helpful lists are here and here), articles and study aids that help you get know the God we worship. 

We can only worship someone we love, 
and we can only love someone we know.

Confession is a necessary time of speaking before the Lord in open and total transparency. He knows everything about us, but as C.S. Lewis says, prayer doesn’t change God, it changes me. To name a thing takes away its power. We cannot heal what we do not acknowledge. When I confess sin in my life, God can release me from its power. His forgiveness for us was secured on the cross, but he instructs us to confess. As 1 John 1:9 says, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” For a more in-depth consideration, read David Whyte's thoughts regarding the value of confession.

Confession opens the door to healing and to a larger life 
where I do not repeat the self-same sin.

Thanksgiving is God’s will. “In everything give thanks for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you” (I Thessalonians 5:18). It is the internal attitude of gratefulness, cultivating the eyes of our heart to see His gifts, no matter how small, in every situation. Thanking God for all that comes in the journey, not for every circumstance but in the midst of it, realizing that every good gift and every perfect gift is from his hand, and that sometimes his gifts come disguised in trials or challenges that shape our character and require us to trust or wait on Him. Gratitude preceded many of the miracles Jesus performed. He lifted his eyes and thanked God before he broke bread, before he fed 5,000+, before he raised Lazarus from the dead. A wonderful resource on gratitude is here.

Gratitude and thanksgiving make it possible 
to live fully right where we are.

Supplication, petition and intercession is about humbly and earnestly asking God to act, provide or intervene. When we pray for God’s will on behalf of someone else, it is called petition or intercession while making a request for ourselves is supplication. There is nothing wrong with asking, in fact, God invites us to boldly approach the throne of Grace to obtain mercy and find grace to help in our time of need (Hebrews 4:16). Learn more here. 

Don't worry

Tell God what you need

Thank Him for what he's already done

and peace will follow

from Philippians 4:6-8

Note for the choir: As we have various leaders prompt different styles of prayer over the remainder of the season together, we will explore different aspects of God and our relationship to him, different ways of speaking with and hearing from the Spirit. We've practiced the beginnings of Listening Prayer, which is very different from speaking to God like we've discussed above. If you'd like to learn more about Listening Prayer, consider reading Can You Hear Me or Rivers from Eden, or watch the seminar videos by Brad Jerzak here.

January Inventory

So much of what I'm reading online these days sounds like many of you are experiencing post-Christmas crash and crush from looking at all the coming challenges of the new year. A few stave off January darkness by snowbirding south or snowboarding north. Those who can't escape bear down to work harder or smarter, resolve to declutter, lose weight, exercise more, make a life plan, do this, do that - all good things - but the undercurrent carries the despairing sense that we've been here before and nothing is ever good enough to exact lasting change.

Some are obsessed with "doing", goal setting and comparing (10 ways to Declutter, Four Steps to Improving, 7 Habits, The Best Way to Do the Right Stuff for the Wrong Reasons). Or learned apathy drives others to refuse, rebel, or mock the "resolutioners" with cynical humour or outright Debbie Downer criticism.

The depth, cold and darkness of winter, creeping age, fatigue, chronic pain all take their toll. Yet we seek to do, be, act, live better because our very nature is imprinted with the creative drive to do so.

I write this because I recognize the cycle in myself. The bleak midwinter wants to bury me emotionally under the long nights and piled snow. I have found some specific actions have made a lasting change for me. These are habits of which I still must remind myself daily. There are apps available to help track and/or remind me of activities and goals. Change does not happen overnight and even after good progress is made, change in circumstances or relationships (job, death, birth, marriage, etc.) unearth areas that have not previously been addressed. I'll list the order in which I began to tackle my own problem areas, but I don't think there is a particular formula. This is not a "how to" but rather a "what helped me" blog post. Start where you are, where you feel you are ready (or completely desperate) for change.

A. Emotional Health

I started here about five years ago. There is no easy button, no quick fix. I just knew I was a mess. Angry, overweight, depressed, and in deep need of healing.

We cannot heal what we don’t acknowledge. I addressed this in a two-pronged approach: support groups and professional counseling. I realized I was powerless over compulsive behavior and the tendency to do the wrong thing. I would often lose my temper with family and others. I saw the toll this was taking on everyone. My life had become unmanageable and I realized I needed help. I attended Freedom Session, http://freedomsession.org/  a modified 12-Step group based on emotional healing and the power of God. It provided tools that helped move me forward from where I was stuck in my hurts, habits and hang-ups. I learned to get out of denial, stop lying to myself, stop the blame game and identify the original wound being triggered by current events. It helped me learn how to heal.

In addition, I had been seeing a clinical psychologist for a number of years, since my son was born. When I started in 1994, I was suffering from post-partum depression but it was undiagnosed for three years. Later on, I met with her on occasion when life got overwhelming. I continue this practice. A professional is trained to support you in ways your friends and pastor cannot.

B. Mental Health.

Professional clinical counseling is also a great aid in mental health and intellectual processing, and I also cannot emphasize too strongly the need for many to have medication which helps resolve the chemical imbalance of the brain which often leads to irrational thought. Just as we take medication to keep our blood pressure stable or insulin to help diabetic conditions or other medicines which replace functions of organs that may have been damaged, we also must see there is NO stigma to taking medication to help the most important organ, our brain, to function as it is designed.

If our brains are working as they should, then we can reason and learn and absorb and make effective, healthy decisions. One way is through reading experts or inspirational writing which educates and encourages us and helps us to understand and act differently, in ways that will help us rather than harm us.

I read two significant books which assisted me in understanding two key areas in which I was stuck: perfectionism and discontent. Brene Brown's book "The Gifts of Imperfection" helped me stop beating myself up for always falling short of my ridiculously high expectations. And Ann Voskamp's "1000 Gifts" was a dare to live fully by opening my eyes to the beauty right in front of me, large and small, every day. To see it all as a gift. “Nothing is a given. Everything is a gift.”

C. Physical Health

I saw my doctor on a regular basis, yet I often did not disclose to him the true nature of how I was feeling until I was in crisis. My late husband struggled with depression and anxiety and this greatly impacted our relationship. While I could not help him, I had to help myself. Like the airlines caution you about the oxygen masks, you need to put your own on before you help others, I needed to get better myself so I could be of any use to him. Sadlly, he refused to see a counselor, a medical doctor or to consider medication for his condition, and this ultimately resulted in his suicide.

I put depression and anxiety under the “physical health” column because I believe the majority of these conditions start from physical causes, not “wrong thinking” or “spiritual failure”.

I decided to see a Naturopath who specialized in food sensitivities. She identified my intolerance for wheat in all forms and I eliminated it from my diet. I experienced an immediate lift in my physical health. The chronic heartburn almost immediately disappeared. My hiatal hernia stopped acting up, except in high stress situations. The Naturopath also put me on a regimine of vitamins, supplements and natural remedies for stress and anxiety. I began to feel better than I had for decades. I also significantly reduced my intake of soft drinks like Coke, stimulants like coffee and replaced them with unsweetened juices, herbal teas, water or club soda. I also reduced my sugar intake, which reduces inflammation and cravings.

After eight months I was finally ready to tackle my body shape and fitness. I set before me the goal of health, not just a certain body shape or a target weight. Exercise to feel good, not to feed your ego. Physical exertion in safe ways releases reward endorphins in your brain which help you feel good. I jump-started my program by signing up with a personal trainer.  I would arrive at our session feeling down, tired, discouraged and invariably I would leave rejuvenated and happy. On Nov. 27, 2012, I posted: “Amazing, how being pushed past my own perceived physical limits by my skilled trainer helps me see how strong I really am. Feels good. Taking nothing for granted. So grateful for this new period of health.”

There are also direct links between my nutritional intake and my emotional and mental health. I must drink at least two litres of water per day and eat balanced, whole foods, minimizing prepared foods high in salt and sugar (hint: choose foods that don’t have an ingredient label). Don’t be obsessed by tracking any one thing or denying yourself. Any extreme is unhelpful. To eliminate or emphasize any one food group (i.e. low carb diet, vegan, high-protein, and so on) is to put ourselves at risk to physical, emotional and mental disease, not getting the holistic natural nutrition our body and mind need to live in optimal health.

D. Spiritual Health

I have always believed in the power of the scriptures, as the Living Word of God, to be spiritual food, a truth anchor in the midst of mood swings, or a thermostat that controls the emotional temperature of my life, a fertile garden where I can grow and gain wisdom. Two other significant books I read during this time were Brennan Manning’s “The Furious Longing of God” that helped me understand how much God pursues me, is crazy about me, and loves me completely. As you can understand, this goes a long way toward emotional healing as well as spiritual. The other book was “The Inner Voice of Love”. This is Henri Nouwen's journal from the most difficult period of his life, when he suddenly lost his self-esteem,  his energy to live and work, his sense of being loved, even his hope in God. Although he experienced excruciating anguish and despair, he was still able to keep a journal in which he wrote a spiritual imperative to himself each day that emerged from his conversations with friends and supporters. I found it not only resonated but encouraged me – a spiritual leader who was also depressed yet learned to see God and hear God’s voice in the darkness.

On Nov. 27 I also posted, “Some have lost faith because of terrible circumstances. Isn't that the time when you would most want to rely on God's strength, comfort, healing and love?” Please know that a few years before, I had nearly despaired and seriously questioned God’s love and goodness, due to very difficult circumstances of my life, but this statement shows the distance I had come in healing from that wounded place to the present moment of wanting to rely on God.

Little did I know that one week later my husband of 31 years would die by suicide. The presence of God in the moments and days following was so tangible, I could physically feel myself being held, covered, carried, by Love.

I don’t know where I would have been or how I would have survived if I had still been in the days of pain and denial. Sometimes these traumatic situations force us to a life change or a break down. I began reading the scripture again with renewed vigor, for all the strength I felt draining away in the crush of preparations needed to be restored. For months afterward I soaked in the trilogy of books written by Dr. David Benner: “Surrender to Love” which helped me discover the heart of Christian Spirituality, “The Gift of Being Yourself”, the sacred call to self-discovery, and “Desiring God’s Will”, which is all about aligning my heart with the heart of God.

Since those days two years ago, I have studied to become a spiritual director but found I am not yet emotionally strong enough to bear the deep burdens of others who are still in a very wounded place. I hope, one day, to delve more fully into this field.

E. Relational Health

Life is best lived in community. We clearly see what happens to those kept in solitary confinement. A supportive group of family and friends who encourage us, have the courage to care enough to confront us when needed, keep us accountable and point out where we might need to practice more healthy habits and behaviors.

I had two small groups: one of just a few women and a mixed group of six couples I/we met with on a weekly basis, some more often on a social basis: one on one for coffee and/or Bible study or just social time. They were my confidants, my soul-sisters, my brothers in Christ. I could tell them just about anything and know they would keep it in confidence, pray for me, help me work through it, even give wise advice if I asked. Several times, especially after my first husband’s death, I felt a great restlessness and was tempted to do something impulsive like quit my job or sell the house or run away. I would call one of those small group members and meet with them and they helped keep me steady. I am deeply indebted to each one who held me and helped me in my weak times.

So, there you have it. A long list of things I have done and continue to do. Through it all, I learned if I want to be different I have to BE different. Don’t continue doing the same things. Make the hard choice to do something more effective and keep it up, one day at a time, one step at a time.

F. Recreational Health

Finally, creative and recreational outlets are also important to having fun and getting moving in fun and enjoyable ways. I took up photography, glass fusion, swimming, hiking, camping, singing and renewed my writing, blogging and poetry. I even dabble in art and sketching and took a turn at scuba and parasailing. Others quilt, knit, crochet, cross-stitch, ride horses or motorcycles, snowshoe, ski, skydive, and the list is endless. These are the things that bring zest to life, the reason we want to be healthy – to enjoy all the good gifts in God’s beautiful creation.

I’m still in process, but I’m healthier now than I have ever been in every area I have discussed. I don’t take this for granted – I have to choose this every single day. I still battle areas where I haven’t yet had healing but I am so grateful for the life I have, the friends and family who support me and the God who created me to live in this kind of freedom.

I hope you might be helped by something here. If you have other books or practices that have helped you get unstuck and you would like to post about it in the comments, feel free.

Now go live and laugh and love.

Blessings,

Joyce

Retro Prospective

This morning my son and I shared the last pot of Kona coffee from a package I saved since our Hawaii trip last Christmas. One year ago, on the day I bought this luscious coffee, I never would have imagined how differently life would unfold in 2014.

It was a year of saying goodbye to…

• my 16 year old dog
• my roommate of eight months
• my son calling this his permanent residence
• singleness
• serving the unrealistic agendas of others
• my tightly held grasp on specific outcomes
• denial

It was a year of saying hello to...

• a full night’s sleep, almost every night
• what I truly wanted in a relationship
• a completely empty nest
• joy and peace and contentment and gratitude
• listening
• satisfaction
• marriage
• who I really want to be
• forgiveness
• acceptance
• laughter

I realize, in looking at this list, that most of these things said hello to me before I received them as gifts. And most have come within the context of relationship: with my new husband, with friends, with family, with the Lord.

None of these hellos or goodbyes were actually easy. I pondered long and hard about many, wrestled furiously (and repeatedly) with a few, some were forced on me, but most I had to choose. With intention, determination and/or surrender.

Few of these are a once-for-all, one-time event. Some take repetition, reminders, remembering that I’ve made the agreement to say yes or no. A few must be affirmed each morning, each evening.

We look at decluttering our homes. We understand getting rid of old habits. We think less often about decluttering our thinking and behavior or welcoming new scenarios and accepting joy without foreboding. It all shapes our lives into the most beautiful of realities: 

Living present in this moment, today.

Don’t make a future list of what needs to go away or come to your life. Promise yourself only one thing this year: be present. Speak it only to yourself. Promises spoken out loud trick the brain into thinking we've already accomplished what we've spoken and it releases the reward endorphin so we get the sense of accomplishment before the promise is actually fulfilled. Thus, we neglect to do the work necessary to actually keep our promise. Just whisper it to yourself: "Be present". In every moment, in every situation, in every joy, with every difficult person: be present, focused, attentive, fully engaged. Make this agreement with yourself. Honour yourself enough to keep your own solemn vow.

Release what you must.

Receive all that comes.

It’s the present.

You Deserve It

“I’m so happy for you. You deserve this!”

My friend Susan and I were talking yesterday and rejoicing in the beautiful love I’m experiencing in my marriage.

It’s a lovely sentiment expressed by a caring friend. It’s not the first time I’ve heard something similar to this. Yet, every time, I recoil at the word, “deserve”.

“I don’t feel like I deserve anything,” I said.

Why is that?

My friend means it as an encouragement but somehow I hear it with foreboding, unworthiness, even guilt. It seems inherent in the phrase is the suggestion that “deserve” smacks of entitlement. Like I’ve somehow earned the right to be happy.

Deserve? What do I deserve? Sure I’ve had my share of sadness. Even in that phrase, there is a comparative term: “my share”. As if, somehow, I have “paid my dues” and now I have “earned” the right to be happy.

Life is not a competition, although many might view it that way. Some even find it motivating to “work hard, apply myself, so I can reap the benefits and earn what I’m worth.”

“It’s endemic in our religious upbringing,” Susan quickly points out. I know immediately what she means. We know we can’t earn salvation, that because of sin we deserve the punishment of death, therefore we don’t deserve the grace that God lavishes upon us. It’s unmerited favor. That’s why it’s grace. It’s a free gift.

Rather than take this blog into a long, heated discussion of differing theological points of view – like some of my early family holiday dinner conversations (shudder – can you say “indigestion”?) think about how much of life is competitive.

“Faster, Higher, Stronger”
“Auditions will be held…”
“Job competition”
“Performance bonus”
“The Top 40” (this week)
“You get out of this what you put into it”
“I must be living right” or “I can’t do anything right”
“I really worked hard for this”

We track games, races, sports scores and team records, tracking stats and doing analysis at the micro level to find yet one more way to give comparative status to the value of each player or athlete. If we take Second Place by one-hundredth of a second, the only title given is “Loser”.

We have regular performance evaluations in our workplace and annual salary reviews, which determine our compensation for services rendered. There are salary grids for different job classes and corporate guidelines about how quickly one can move up in their range. Bonuses, commissions, profit-sharing are all based on “What have you done for me lately?” There are companies that specialize in quantifying the value of a role and creating quantifiable measures for individual experience and skill.

Profit is good, loss is bad. We strive to choose the best financial products to achieve the highest possible return on investment (ROI). We seek out the “most reputable” advice and “most comprehensive” research and investment advisors with the best track record in financial markets.
Ultimately, the assumed truism is: “You earn what you deserve” or “You deserve what you earn”.

On the other hand, there are other voices using terms like:

“It’s God’s will/sovereignty/plan/judgment/punishment.”
“Karma!”
“How lucky can you get?”
“How fortunate!”
“Just my luck!”
“The odds were against me.”
“The tide is turning in my favor.”
“The whole universe just waits for me to get cocky, then slams me down.”
“We lost because I attended the game, I’m bad luck.”
“You must have a horseshoe up your a**.”
“It just wasn’t in the stars.”
“It’s destined to fail.”
“That was a fluke.”
“It’s like magic.”

This second list reflects an opposite extreme to the first list. I’m sure philosophers, psychologists, social scientists and theologians all have their own terminology for these two opposing world views regarding our “deservedness” for blessings and benefits. I’m not going to research specific terms or cite scholarly sources (although the OCD side of me really wants to).

I want to get back to “You deserve this”. It seems this phrase could be used with equal convictions on both sides of the pendulum: grace or works. In my case, I fault on the “I didn’t earn it” side. (Please don’t comment on how worthy I am. I don’t write this to solicit any reassurances of my deservedness. In fact, I tend to dismiss that kind of sentiment).

I know when I’m giving my best and when I’m not. I know that many sad things have happened in my life and I spent more of the last couple decades grieving than celebrating. Yet I also crave affirmation when I have done a good job at something that mattered ANYTHING. In fact, I’ve spent my life measuring my worth by the applause of people. More recently, I’ve fought back against this compulsion and begun to understand the true measure of my worth is found in who I am, not what I do (but that’s another blog for another day).

I’m coming to the conclusion here that the key factor in any of this “deservedness” is not how I come to receive blessing or bounty, but rather, “Am I thankful?” Do I have a heart of gratitude? Do I have eyes to see the myriad of gifts that I have received?

When I am in a hard or dark place, I often think about the scripture’s instruction in the Apostle Paul’s epistle to the Philippians: “Don’t worry about anything. Tell God what you need. Thank Him for everything he’s already done and peace will follow” (my paraphrase of Phil. 4:6).

I believe “every good and perfect gift comes down from the Father of Lights” (James 1:17) and so God is the direct person to whom I offer thanks. But I don’t, not for one moment, believe that God gives these gifts because I deserve them. He gives them out of his rich generosity. Because God is love and all goodness, and thus, cannot give anything other than what is ultimately good for those who love him. He is a father who delights in giving good gifts to his children. Just like you.

So, whether I deserve it or not, I am grateful. And as I was looking for a proper conclusion to this musing, I thought of the phrase “after you have suffered a little while…”

It’s from 1 Peter 5:5-11

“… Clothe yourselves, all of you, with humility toward one another, for ‘God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.’ Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world. And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.”  (ESV, emphasis mine)

Yes, I have suffered. Just like every person on earth suffers. Perhaps more, perhaps less. Some of my suffering has been by my own hand, poor choices or sinful decisions. These have been and continue to be confessed, forsaken and forgiven because Jesus died and rose again to pay the price for that 2,000 years ago. Thanks be to God!

Other suffering I’ve endured (sometimes not so patiently) has come by the hands of others who put me down, rejected, abused or abandoned me. All of this is in process of being healed, as I release it and extend forgiveness where needed. I am being restored. I am, through this process, being confirmed in my thoughts and attitudes. I am being strengthened and established not only in my faith but in the safe, caring harbor of a loving marriage.

Thanks be to God, who daily loads us with benefits. (Psalm 68:19, paraphrase)

Undeserved favor.

Grace.

I am SO grateful.

Still Reflecting

View from Moose (Alces) Lake Campground, Whiteswan Provincial Park, BC

A friend asked recently when I was going to start blogging again. She missed it and others missed it. Another person who is very close to me doesn't have any framework for why writing publicly about one's life is of interest to others. These two opposing perspectives also exist in my heart and head when I consider writing.

The answer to why I do or don't write is not so simple. I began blogging in 2005. It was a space to dump the jigsaw puzzle of my thoughts out onto the table of the Internet and sort through it all to make some sort of connections between both my thoughts and the lives of others. It was sometimes humour, sometimes angst, often juvenile and beginner level writing. I took classes to hone my skills, increase the complexity and accessibility of my poetry and articles and began publishing certain pieces. This is a life-long pursuit: to articulate that which the heart struggles to convey in hopes another will say, “Oh, now I see.” Or “You too? I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”

As a writer who was compelled to write, I used to say, "I simply can't NOT write" (and yes, I know that's incorrect grammar). In the processing of blogging and increasing Facebook posts and the trauma of losing my spouse of 31 years, a number of people began following my blog and Facebook page. I was both perplexed and grateful. Many are interested because they love me, many knew and loved my late husband, some are like-minded writers and bloggers, some are strangers who find a kindred voice. For whatever ways we may have found each other, I believe we share a resonance in matters of life, death, heart and soul.

David Whyte describes the phenomenon in this way: "You could say people are reading me like they read my poetry and they are following the unfolding of each chapter. None of us really knows how the chapter is going to proceed or what themes or characters are going to make themselves known."¹

One of my ongoing themes has been “busyness.” This is a challenge to every writer – the tyranny of the urgent which crowds out the more important issues of life. Early this year, I returned to full time work for the first time in twenty years. This, in and of itself, was a phenomenal challenge, as I was still emerging from grief in the extraordinary loss of my spouse and had not had a significant break from work since his death, all while trying to maintain a home, wade through legal and financial matters and support my son as a widow and single mom.

The very same week I began my new job, I had my first date with a very interesting man.

Since these two significant life events began, I've written very little about my inner life. Work and romance have filled my days. This has also made less room for photography, singing and poetry, along with my blogging, but they each have filled my soul in different ways, so I was not found wanting.

The job has a steep learning curve and high workload. It has only been the past couple of weeks as we have become fully staffed, where I feel I have finally hit my stride. Woken up, as it were, to the strength of my former gifts and found a rhythm with my duties and become comfortable in the dance of teamwork with my colleagues. It's inappropriate to blog about work, so there was nothing out of which to write there. Duties also included much editing and writing, so the compelling need to write in my spare time was lessened.

The budding relationship captures my remaining time and thought. The intellectual and emotional processing of a new relationship after such a wounding loss has been a significant draw on my emotional resources. The one great gift in my new love is that he also has experienced deep loss and is a few years further down the road in the healing, so can understand much of my pain and provide perspective from his own healing journey. He speaks peace into places of my life where I didn't even realize I was wounded.

Our ongoing relationship and subsequent marriage on August 30 has been a sacred space, and inappropriate to parade publicly before blog or Facebook followers. It is a place of wholesome, holy wholeness.

That being said, I am now at a place of personal contentment and joy beyond anything I ever anticipated. I could shout from the rooftops the incredible delight which this man has brought into my life; the beautiful sense of home we find in each others’ heart; the daily satisfaction of job well done as we put order to our household and find shelter in each others’ arms.

So, Jill, for you, I offer this blog. And for the rest of the family and friends (new and old) who wish to follow the unfolding of each chapter, I write this for you. I write it for the joy of finding that beyond shadow, beyond living to the point of tears, there is hope because a new day has dawned, a new chapter has begun.

It is only by God’s sweet mercy and generous grace that I am healing and becoming whole again. Human efforts are limited and skewed, rife with mixed motives and complex, intricately-crafted defenses. Ultimately, this is a story about our lives being the roads God travels – it is his work, to will and to do of his good pleasure as he makes everything work into a pattern for good in the lives of those who love Him.

I can’t promise how often I’ll write, but I’m still here, and I’ll write when I can. If you’re hearing me, keep talking, liking, loving. We are on this journey together. Be brave and make yourself known. We need each other to help find our courage and have those difficult conversations, living to the point of tears², experiencing, as Yates would have said, “A fierce, terrible beauty.”³

When Morning Breaks, Sharp but Soft

I'm sorry I haven't been a very good blogger lately. I've been busy being an awesome hermit.

Well, that's not totally accurate. I've actually been a busy and very active participant in my vibrant life. For those of you who follow this blog to keep track of my journey, you'll be well informed by the time we're done here.

On Feb. 24 I started a new job. Full time. Lovely people. Great mission and vision. A little further from home but well worth the additional transit time. See my previous blog post for more details.

On Feb. 27 I had my first outing with a lovely gentleman from my church. We've been acquaintances through choir and musical productions for many years. Since that first date, we have been connecting as often as our busy schedules allow and it's a lovely thing. He treats me with great honor and respect, we have lots of laughs and many meaningful conversations. Though we are very new into this journey, we are both feeling very much at home with each other and deeply grateful for this delightful parallel path. For those of you who are praying people, please keep us in mind as we seek to keep in step with the Spirit.

Most of March was a whirlwind of work, school and prep for Easter. My training in Soul Care - the art of spiritual direction - is a two-year cohort and I will complete my first year on May 4. I'm so grateful for all God is doing in and through this course. I am learning much about the various sacred pathways and spiritual practices that can assist us in discerning the movement of the Spirit in our lives and in the lives of those with whom we walk. My volunteer ministry at church is in the choir. As you can expect, Easter weekend was filled with amazing music and transcendent worship. One of the most rewarding musical experiences over Easter was singing Kyrie Eleison with an ensemble in the Good Friday service. If you’d like to listen to this beautiful arrangement, it starts at 17:10 on this video. A beautiful prayer. “Lord, have mercy! Christ, have mercy.”

My sad news is that on April 8, my long time canine companion and confidant, Bernadette (Bernster, Bernie) was laid to rest. She was over 16 years old, which, according to one age calculator, could equal about 87 human years. A long, full life. I miss her by my side but it would have been unkind to prolong her suffering.

Today I am saying goodbye to a less important part of my life. I have struck a verbal agreement with the Porsche dealership in town to sell them Brent's Cayman S. It's a lovely beast, one I enjoyed driving but our season here is very short and my current lifestyle as a single mom supporting a full time student simply doesn't lend itself to the high maintenance and insurance costs of retaining this sort of vehicle. It is with mixed feelings that I let it go, but am grateful that the proceeds will help Andrew in his educational pursuits.


Andrew is currently in a 12 month program at Nimbus School of Recording Arts in Vancouver, enrolled in Advanced Music Production. He's studying the studio side of the music business and has had some high profile opportunities to learn from the best in his field. His goal is to do music production and digital mixing/mastering as a side career while he pursues his goal of becoming a law enforcement officer. His next step is returning to university in the fall and almost all his credits from Trinity Western University transferred to his chosen school: Simon Fraser University where he should be able to obtain his undergrad degree in Psychology within two years, including courses in criminology.

Here Andrew is, enjoying a dinner out with his love, Rebecca, they've known each other since he moved out to BC in 2010 and have been dating well over a year. I adopted Rebecca as my soul-daughter before they even began seeing each other, so I'm quite happy to see them so happy. She is finishing her degree in social work and will graduate this December.

As for the rest of my dear Canadian family, Roy and Lila have returned to Edmonton from their annual snowbird jaunt in Arizona and are feeling quite healthy a year after the surgeries they both had last summer. Brad and Tina are busy as always with his pastorate in Three Hills and their children Paige and Max are growing and thriving in their schooling there. Tina will be playing the Baroness in the Three Hills Arts Academy production of The Sound of Music. Keep all of these dear people in your prayers with me, okay?

Well, the morning of my life is past, but I must say I feel a great sense of vitality and excitement about the afternoon and evening of my life to come. In many ways it feels like a new dawn, with morning "breaking sharp but soft", to borrow a line from a John Blase poem.

Thank you for being on the journey with me. I am sustained by your prayer and words of encouragement. May the Lord reward you for the way you have been a friend to me in my darkest hours. Let's walk forward together in the light, love and power of our precious Savior.

Shovelling is My SuperPower

Today, in a stunning tribute to her late husband, the Widow Harback decides to shovel the deck. After all, the temperatures are rising and the sun might actually remove the lingering ice if she could just lift off the top layers of snow.

Uncharacteristically energized after clearing the driveway, sidewalk, and the large ridge left behind by the city snowplow, this small additional expenditure of energy shouldn’t take more than a half an hour, thought she.

Entering the west side of the yard, she notices fresh footprints, no older than just before yesterday’s new snowfall. Puzzled, she follows them as they go up to the gate, which is now dangling at a quirky angle, connected only by the top hinge. The footsteps go past the gate, up three stairs to the garage side door, which is never used as it is blocked by skis and other items inside.

What? Someone trying to break in her home? It doesn’t feel particularly threatening in the bold sunshine while she’s holding a shovel and wearing her super-powered, sweat-infused snow clearing outfit. Who could it be? The housemate is out of town. The son is back at school. The housekeeper isn’t due till later this week. Besides, they all have keys. Who could possibly want to get inside her home and break down the gate to do so?

Has she gained a stalker from the ill-fated coffee meet up with the “I’m-still-stuck-in-my-divorce” man from ChristianMingle.com?

Nah.

Not to be deterred from her noble goal of clearing the deck, Widow Harback boldly tightens her leather gloved hands around the neck of the shovel and strides round the front of the house to the east access. Stepping across the buried flower beds by the window where the snow is least deep, she notes that her boots are not sinking in the drifts, but she is walking on top of them. It’s a miracle, nigh unto walking on water!

No, actually. Not so much.

Turns out the snow has hardened to rounded icy mounds in the numerous thaws and refreezes of a schizophrenic January in Calgary. This does not bode well for the mound on the deck…

Still, she strides on.

Follows the rabbit tracks into the back yard, through the back gate which she'd remembered to prop open last fall to allow for the jack rabbit freeway from back to front.

When she reaches the back yard, the traverse across warranted snowshoes, but she had not packed adequately for this long a mountaineering trek. She struggled through, battling blazing sunshine and made it to the stairs. She's on the lower level by the walk-out basement and the final peak (named Upper Deck) requires an oxygen-assisted ascent via ice picks and crampons.

Okay, well, perhaps not quite like that.

She climbs the full flight of stairs slowly, clearing snow off one step at a time. The 15-20 cm piles of snow fall easily to the ground but an ominous layer of ice 3-5 cm thick stubbornly clings to each stair.

She notes the half hour mark is long past at this point and her stomach reminds her it would still like a bit of breakfast. She makes her first shovel thrust.

Crunch. Nothing.

Another. Crunch. Nothing. It only takes a few swings of the shovel to realize the entire deck is one massive frozen snowball. Sigh.

Widow Harback pauses for a moment, in gratitude and remembrance of her husband. She whispers a prayer of thanks to God for loaning him to her for 31 years. The deck will never be swept fresh clean like Mr. Harback kept it, but what a privilege to have enjoyed that act of kindness for 31 long Canadian winters! She should have been more appreciative while she had him around to appreciate.

Hopes dashed, but somewhat relieved that this unrealistic goal exceeded even her Super-Snow-Girl powers, she makes sure both exit doors onto the deck from the house are free and clear in the unlikely event of a fire, returns to the house for a well deserved shower and begins composing this blog in her mind.

Perhaps it should have stayed there.

Perhaps I should have breakfast before I write about Widow Harback's “Super-Snow Girl” adventures in the future. I believe I may have just attained my PhD (Pile it Higher and Deeper). (Told you I was good at shovelling).

Thank you for listening, and watch your step as you leave.

This is the Air I Breathe

My son and I had the wonderful opportunity to do an "Intro to Scuba" dive while in Kailua-Kona over the Christmas week. We booked with Kona Honu Divers and Terri was our instructor. We were in a small group of three and did two dives, the first to 30 feet depth and the second to 40 feet. The scenery was magnificent, the crew very professional and efficient and our instructor was highly experienced and very attentive.

I was anxious the night before and during my descent. A friend who was a very experienced diver had lost his diving companion a year ago in an unexpected equipment malfunction that blocked the airflow. This was heavy on my mind. I knew the risks for us were small, the equipment well-maintained and help right beside me. I felt the fear and did it anyway.

The biggest rule I'd been told was "Remember to breathe." As I was introduced to the equipment pre-dive and began to practice breathing through the regulator on the boat, I found it an odd sensation. The air barely trickled in. When you can't breathe, nothing else matters.

"I'm not getting very much air," I complained.

"It's on-demand," came the reply. "You'll get as much as you ask for. It depends on how hard you inhale."

I sucked harder and, sure enough, had a full free flow of as much air as I needed. Good to know. It was something that suddenly dispelled my anxiety, as I realized I could control my air intake. It also helped to note that each of us was equipped with two regulators, so if one failed, the second one was available. With four of us and two regulators each, that gives eight opportunities to get air in a worst-case scenario.

We were given instruction on the trip to the dive site and tested on our skills at the surface before our descent. I was the last to descend and took longer because of the need to allow my ears time to adjust to pressure changes. The second dive should have been easier but I had more difficulty with my buoyancy compensator and unintentionally floated to the surface once despite my adjustments. The rest of the dive I struggled with maintaining the right level in my BC so I couldn't really relax and enjoy the surroundings until the very end.

I think about the beautiful song, "This is the air I breathe... Your holy presence living in me." To inhale God's spirit is also on-demand. He is ever present, living in me, but I must be open to this presence, the filling, the on-demand life, asking for, taking in, trusting and receiving all I need for the task at hand.

Lord, let me breathe you. Always, only, ever, taking in all you are, allowing you to fill me with your presence, keeping me breathing, keeping me level, surrendering and relaxing into the adventure so I can explore new depths with You.

From Darkness to Light

So grateful...
for the writers, poets and theologians in my life who challenge my thinking. 

Doubly grateful...
for the healing I found through Freedom Session. 

Beyond grateful...
for the friends and family who have stood with me, even carried me, through the dark night of the soul and through the deepest loss I have known. 


The beauty, truth and love embodied by each person provides one more taste of the Divine presence and I am transformed, touch by touch, word by word, song by song; my hand held, my voice heard, my heart healed, my soul renewed.



Picture: depositphotos.com #30835497, standard license

Black Friday's Curse - it's not business, it's personal

Those who decry child labor in China and jobs lost overseas would do well to stay home on Black Friday. The consumer demand for ever-increasing discounts on goods means profit-hungry retailers seek more concession from wholesalers who demand lower prices from suppliers who seek out vulnerable and desperate individuals to take jobs that pay less in a week than your Starbucks cost this morning as you brag about your bargains.

Make a difference. Dare to demand ethical products and start looking out for "the least of these."

Adult A.D.D. and Thanks: A Path to Wholeness?

Trying to concentrate on what I’m reading about living fully right where I am, but my adult Attention Deficit Disorder kicks in. I stop reading and strain to identify the barely audible rhythm of a distant car alarm. 

I turn back to the book but the drone of the dryer and my husband’s morning throat-clearing cough and grooming routine pull my attention away again. I squint my eyes and beg the Lord to help me hear his voice, fully, with rapt attention. 

Why he called this distractible mind into an administrative position, I will never know in this life, other than perhaps that the hyper-focus on one thing can be an immense benefit to accomplishing a project. But the rest of me struggles to keep track of a plethora of small requests and some days are worse, with every diversion another brick in the wall of forgetfulness that bars me from the goal of being a detail-oriented professional who makes everyone happy. 

Should I give thanks for this deficit? The book says it is through thanksgiving that my wholeness comes.

295. I am grateful that I see life in every diversion.

296. Thankful for a heart that desires joy and completion for others.

297. Thrilled for tasks that are diverse every day.

298. Pleased to meet others along the path

299. Stunned with the awareness that I can bring death or life to them through my words, Your words.

Lord, help me pay attention to you.

Let eucharisteo be my corrective replacement lens.

From 1000 Gifts: eucharisteo: an attitude of thanks. Life filling gratitude.

Good Stories

You know those stories that captivate you? How many of them had no tension, no problems, no death? All went well and the sun always shone? Yeah. No. So why do we cry foul or "not fair!" when things go awry in our own story? Live the mystery. Follow the Author to find out the ending. It's happy. He promised.

Our Tribute to Carole Lawrence

Given March 26, 2012 at the memorial service for Carole Lawrence. 

Carole had a way of making each of us feel like we were special to her, didn’t she? And we were.

I had the privilege of meeting Carole through Peggy Abbott and have been in a small group with Carole, Peggy and Barb De Bruyn. For the past 4 years the four of us would meet almost weekly. We would visit each other’s homes or meet at the lake to discuss books, do a Bible study, attempt a craft, or we’d make a road trip – often to new places suggested by Carole. She was always full of ideas for activities to do, crafts to try or places to visit. Many times we’d go for lunch or just for coffee. I think we’ve tried almost every Starbucks, Second Cup and Good Earth across south Calgary.

Carole hosted us at her cabin in Gull Lake one weekend while we attended a Beth Moore seminar in Red Deer. When we drove out to Gull Lake, Barb and Carole led the way in one vehicle and I followed behind with our friend Pam S. Peggy came later. Well, you all know how much Carole loves to visit. Well, Carole and Barb, the two teachers, were so engaged in conversation that they completely blew past the exit and it was another ten kilometers before Pam and I could get their attention to ask if we had perhaps gone too far.

That weekend the laughter, antics, quiet times, tears, of sharing over meals and relaxing in the sunshine solidly bonded our little group. Other dear women joined us from time to time, and each one was a blessing, but today, this tribute is the combined memories of Peggy Abbott, Barb De Bruyn and I.

Carole was a life-long learner

She may have been retired, but you all know she had a zest for life and was always trying new things. She had recently started exercising with Barry and Jennifer at the Jewish Centre. In January, Carole decided to learn machine quilting. It was difficult, but she persevered and did it. She faithfully attended Tuesday morning Bible studies and often would take other courses like Precepts.

Carole was a journaler

She journaled her thoughts, her prayers, her notes from Bible Study. She even gave me some wonderful tips, along with her friend Carla Lorfing, when I was preparing a workshop on journaling. Scott, you will have a rich history of your Mom's life through her journals and your kids can remember her this way.

Carole was an insatiable reader

She belonged to several book clubs. She would share books with others as she felt God leading her to do. Sometimes she’d try to get me to read a novel and I’d tell her “Sorry, Carole, I just don’t read fiction.” She’d laugh and say “I know you say that, but this one you really ought to read.”

Carole was an artist

Carole created beauty through her quilts and knitting. She won an award last year for one of her quilts. She belonged to several guilds and did Bible Blocks and Block of the Month. She freely shared her joy and love of quilting. Carole also took time to show Barb De Bruyn how to do specific things. Barb said Carole was so patient. She also took Barb to quilt shows and introduced her to all her quilting friends.

Carole said she would one day get Peggy to quilt. Over Peggy’s protests, Carole’s persistence won out when Peggy gave in and made quilted Christmas stockings with Carole’s help.

Carole regularly showed up at the Stitchin’ Post on Wednesday nights. Sometimes she would be knitting a project and would have a problem. Well, she would save it for Peggy to fix. Peggy would say "You know how to fix it" and Carole would smile with that twinkle in her eye, and say, "Well, you're here, you can do it faster".

Carole loved her computer. She was a Mac. 

It was life changing for her and she blamed Peggy for getting her started, but it became another way for her to connect to the world and people. She would post articles, and websites and watch favorite shows online. And of course, most of all, she loved reconnecting with friends and former students. She asked me to come hook up her printer and switch ink cartridges once or twice. I'm not sure that she needed my help as much as she wanted me to feel needed.

Carole was a mentor

She cared so deeply for the women in her Tuesday morning group. She was a great listener, and often that was all she did.

Isn't it what we all long for? Someone to really hear us?

She loved their stories and felt deeply for their issues. She would often organize something to help out and she prayed for them faithfully. The number of young moms who have felt Carole’s love and received her wisdom through the years has grown to a very long list. Anita and Heather, she was very grateful for your caring leadership.

In our little group we trusted Carole to be honest with us and she delivered in the way only a dear loved one could. When one of us was going through a tough spot, we could always call on her. She would listen carefully, comfort and advise us. She had wisdom about marriage and would gently tell us when we needed to change our behavior toward our husbands. She was usually right.

Carole was a burden-bearer

Barry and Jennifer Pendergast shared that Carole was there at the beginning of their walk, helping them while they grieved the loss of their son Simon. This was the beginning of a long and rich friendship between them.

Carole was fiercely independent and self-reliant, trusting in the love of her Savior. These qualities served her wonderfully, being a single parent, following her career. Although she was always there to help others, she seldom shared her own difficulties and she never complained. In our little group of four, we would ask Carole for prayer requests, Carole would always speak of someone else’s need. When I would ask her for personal needs so that we could pray for her specifically, she would usually reply with “I’m good” or “I’m fine.” I think when she became a believer; Jesus became that one person she would share everything with.

Carole was a prayer warrior

She started every day in her quiet time with God and then journaling. This was the time she prayed for all of us. If you’re here today, it’s probably because she listened to you and prayed for you.

Carole was an activities director

Besides all her regular hobbies, Carole was always thinking up things to do as a group. Our most precious memories are from summers at the lake. Here, we had book discussions over the years, visiting with friends, henna tattoos, precious lovely times that we will never forget. Carole sitting amongst us, in a chair, with her knitting, laughing patiently, because Peggy and I were always late.

She got our group to do crafts like glass fusing and jewelry making. She loved road trips. She was the first one to take us to the Saskatoon Farm. Last summer when our little group decided not to do a book discussion. Carole, always the teacher, challenged us to do a little "assignment" each week, based on something she found on the internet.

In December we celebrated our birthdays together, hosted by Carole. She came up with the idea of making quilted Christmas ornaments, so we agreed. A few days later we met. Carole had cut out hundreds of 1 inch fabric squares for the craft and we bonded as we glued.

Carole had the gift of hospitality

Besides planning activities, Carole had the gift of making others feel at home whether it was in her own home or in this church that she loved. For many years, in the old building, back when the women’s group was called Hands to Heart, Carole would make centerpieces for the tables and spend hours every week ironing tablecloths. Her view was that when the women arrived, she just wanted them to feel comfortable. She helped us all feel like we belong and we are loved and that we matter.

Her home was the same. It was beautifully decorated and such a cozy place to visit. The furniture and walls covered with Carole’s beautiful quilts and handcrafts. It was a sanctuary as beautiful as Carole herself.

Carole was generous with her time and resources

Carol loved making things for people. Peggy remembers fondly in the old church how Carole would help with the café and would join her for cooking, Wednesday afternoons with Gerry Hand.

Carole was very involved on the planning committee for “So Long Insecurity”. We thought 300 people would come and she conceived the idea of making fabric gift bags with ribbon handles for every attendee. She designed the bag and obtained donations of fabric from her friends, her quilt store and her own stash. She recruited Alice Carter’s It’s Sew Easy group and other friends (including Barb) to make hundreds of bags. When the attendance at the seminar swelled to 1,000, Carole personally sewed the remaining bags required and refused to accept any reimbursement for her expenses. She just wanted the women to feel loved when they walked in the door and a simple gift bag was her way of making that happen.

Carole was a woman of faith

Carole loved the Lord and trusted him with all her heart. She had no doubts that his strength was enough for her. She loved studying his word and discussing it with all her friends. Carole was passionate about men being godly leaders. She would often surprise us saying she had planned a meeting with this pastor or that male leader, as she had something on her heart to discuss with them. They never intimidated her, but then she had a non-threatening way of saying things that would open doors for discussion. When Pastor Scott came, she would say: “I’m gonna go love on him.” and she would proceed to go give him some encouraging word.

Perhaps it was the teacher in her. She had such a heart for boys and men, as she felt the world was a very difficult place for them to be Christians. She had a special place in her heart for Peggy’s sons Jordan, Simon and Tristan, and prayed especially for them.

Scott, Peggy also wanted me to share that your mom was so, so happy, when you became a believer, so you could lead your family in God's path.

Carole was a friend

Peggy and I both felt that she was in so many ways the older, wiser, sister we never had. And perhaps we were the younger, sillier sisters she never had. We would tease her and she would wave her hand at us and say, “Oh, you, sillies!”

Carole encouraged her friends in what they loved. In September, I called her on the spur of the moment and she immediately agreed to ride along on a trek to photograph the autumn colours. She brought her camera but she wasn’t really there to take pictures. She came along so we could spend time together. She added to the beauty by her presence.

I will close with a well-known passage of scripture about a godly woman. Until yesterday, I thought this description was perhaps an impossible standard. As you hear it now, I think you’ll agree it describes our friend, Carole.

from Proverbs 31:10-31 (The Message, paraphrased)

A good woman is hard to find,

   and worth far more than diamonds.

Her (family and friends) trust her without reserve,

   and never have reason to regret it.

Never spiteful, she treats them generously

   all her life long.

She shops around for the best yarns and cottons,

   and enjoys knitting and sewing.

She's like a trading ship that sails to faraway places

   and brings back exotic surprises.

She's up before dawn,

   organizing her day.

First thing in the morning, she dresses for work,

   rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started.

She senses the worth of her work,

   is in no hurry to call it quits for the day.

She's skilled in the crafts of home and hearth,

   diligent in homemaking.

   and dresses in colorful linens and silks.

She's quick to assist anyone in need,

   reaches out to help the poor.

Her clothes are well-made and elegant,

   and she always faces tomorrow with a smile.

When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say,

   and she always says it kindly.

She keeps an eye on everyone in her household,

   and keeps them all busy and productive.

Her children respect and bless her;

   her friends join in with words of praise:

"Many women have done wonderful things,

   but you've outclassed them all!"

Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades.

   The woman to be admired and praised

   is the woman who loves God.

Give her everything she deserves!

   Festoon her life (and her memory) with praises!