tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15716622650626116862024-03-14T06:36:11.924-04:00At Heart LevelThe ramblings of a grateful heart...
by MicheleAt Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.comBlogger92125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-3487805345456061842013-03-27T20:26:00.003-04:002013-03-27T20:26:55.297-04:00Life Goes OnSo, yes, my son's father passed away. Hard to imagine...On his last conscious day, my precious kid dragged a piano into the palliative care room and played for his dad, to soothe, to bless him, as they both are wonderful musicians. This is a treasured image for me, even though I was not present. A son ministering to his dad, ushering him into eternity. Now he'll need to find a "new normal."At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-55489178453663201382013-02-26T16:51:00.003-05:002013-02-26T16:51:59.753-05:00What Can You Do?<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Someone is dying. A link to me that has been lost, but nevertheless this is a wound. I've met a hero in this. My son. This one in the hospital bed is his father. A distant father, a now-and-then father, but his biological dad non-the-less. This man now lays moments from the end, no longer able to speak or move without help. Morphine is his friend now as he waits out these final moments. And because I believe, it is my relief that he has made his peace with the Lord, forgiving, accepting forgiveness, calling on help only He can give. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now we wait.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> There have been heroics. I've seen my adult son become a man in ways he never expected at his young age. In the last seven days, he's learned a new vocabulary with words like, "notary, power of attorney, living will." He's had to talk about last wishes and cremation versus burial. Upon hearing of his father's illness, he jumped on a plane within hours and flew across the country to arrive at his father's bedside the same day. Since then, he has nursed him round the clock , mostly sleepless- feeding, toileting, making use of his medical training. He has made dozens of phone calls to arrange appointments and take care of business matters. No easy task, as this is an angry patient, a self-pitying patient. I've only heard my son speak words of encourgement and prayer to his dad. My boy has shared his frustration with me, but not in a complaining way. He only feels sad he cannot help his dad in more ways. But he's been a champion to me. He's living Matthew 25: 35 - 40, where it says: </span><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i style="background-color: white;"><span class="text Matt-25-35" id="en-NIV-24044"><span class="woj"><sup> "</sup>For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in,<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-24044X" title="See cross-reference X">X</a>)"></sup></span></span> <span class="text Matt-25-36" id="en-NIV-24045"><span class="woj">I needed clothes and you clothed me,<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-24045Y" title="See cross-reference Y">Y</a>)"></sup> I was sick and you looked after me,<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-24045Z" title="See cross-reference Z">Z</a>)"></sup> I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ </span></span><span class="text Matt-25-37" id="en-NIV-24046"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?</span></span> <span class="text Matt-25-38" id="en-NIV-24047"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?</span></span> <span class="text Matt-25-39" id="en-NIV-24048"><span class="woj">When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’</span></span></i></span><br />
<span class="text Matt-25-40" id="en-NIV-24049"><span class="woj" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #134f5c;">“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’</span></span><span style="background-color: #134f5c;"><sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-24049AB" title="See cross-reference AB">AB</a>)"></sup></span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We wait.</span><br />
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<br />At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-27203702473701139362013-02-12T17:10:00.003-05:002013-02-12T17:10:37.897-05:00Just Moving AlongI<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">f there is anyone out there that has been patient enough to tune in once again, after my rather long absence from this blog, God bless you! I have been remiss in the writing department. I was aghast to see that I have not blogged a word since December, as if life was suspended for all these weeks...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here is the lowdown. I've been doing so much and so little of any consequence at the same time. The tedium of the same old, same old, hunts me down. I'm busy enough, dashing about like the proverbial chicken sans head. Accomplishing little, but fulfilling the duties required of teacher, wife, daughter, mother, friend.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the midst of the duty calls, I have found two exquisite delights - tuning into <i>Downton Abbey</i> and watercolour painting. The first requires no effort at all, just a good beverage, an empty house and a comfortable chair. (My husband and I succumbed to an attack of the flu over the holidays and said very little except, "Want to watch another one?" Good friends had leant us the first two seasons of <i>Downton</i> on DVD and we were hooked.) What is it about this series that is so enthralling? For a period piece, sumptuous in its attention to detail in attire and setting, it moves rather quickly, as each episode leaves you hanging. Favourite characters are cheered on in their challenges as either the ridiculously privileged upstairs-dwellers, or their wonderfully loved and understood servants on the lower floors. What I love about the whole thing, is that living in a country with very little class structure, it is so curious to me, this great divide. This line of thinking is so distant from small town Canada. Yet, the beauty of <i>Downton</i> is that I can feel empathy for those sitting at table and those waiting behind it. People are people. I look forward to each new episode. If you do tune in, check out the first 10 seconds. There is a shot of a dog's behind walking toward the castle...it is just plain clever.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Mr. Carson, my most favourite character...</i></span></td></tr>
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<br />At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-6001076805563501922012-12-23T09:33:00.000-05:002012-12-23T09:42:34.003-05:00A Star<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> Centuries ago, wise men, scholars of the night sky, saw a light of significance and gave up all to follow it. The Bible seems to point to a journey of about two years. We don't know how many wise men there were and we don't know their origins. But we can surmise this - they recognized a God thing when they saw it. And I got to thinking. What was the "star" that showed itself to me, that set me on a life- long journey to seek the face of God? Was it that overwhelming feeling at age seven that Christmas was about Christ and not Santa? Was it that lingering voice in the back of my mind that whispered conviction as I grew to adulthood? Maybe, but the day I started the no-turning-back journey started with a letter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> The message of the Light of the World was expressed in a fourteen-page letter to me at a low time in young adulthood. A childhood friend, wrote to me of her rebirth. I knew her well. We had tripped through our teenage years pushing the envelope of all that was good and right. Seekers both, we had questioned and read and sought truth. We made huge blunders on the way, fell into pits that had dire and lifelong consequences. But we were looking. We wanted to know.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> And in 1977, my friend came to both the end and the beginning. She met Christ. And she presented her findings to me in that letter. That was the star in the east for me. I picked up a Good News Bible at the second hand bookshop and just couldn't put it down. And today, I'm still following that Light.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> So, I ask you, has there been a "star" in your life? A God moment that turned your heart toward His light? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> </span>At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-2284457351798767912012-12-23T09:07:00.000-05:002012-12-23T09:07:36.578-05:00It's Bigger<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> Sitting in church this morning, I had a moment of explosive clarity, that I have allowed life to become an orderly series of one of two things<em>...."accomplishable goals"</em> or <em>"worry blocks."</em> I seem to move from task to task, from predicament to plight. The "<em>accomplishable goals</em>" follow the predictable path: a need is expressed, a task presented, a goal is set and eventually it is ticked off the list. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> But the "<em>worry blocks"</em> are different. Something beyond my control springs up. I stew, plan, freak, try to work it through, all the while praying... praying to calm down and trust my Lord. He says all things work together for my good, <em>(Romans 8:28),</em> and I believe Him. But, oh, it is a struggle sometimes. The process continues for days, weeks or months, and then all is either resolved, or momentarily forgotten, relegated to the back burner. In the last decade, there was one "worry block" that lasted almost two years. I wouldn't say it was a daily struggle, but at least conservatively, two or three days a week, a wave of soul-sucking anxiety would take over. And the fight for my peace was on. And at the end of this dilemma, all was resolved with great victory. Looking back, I realize that there was not one thing I could have done to make it happen. I just needed to look up, keep quiet and wait on God. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> Slow learner....almost this same thing repeated itself this year. And again, the same pattern of me trying to make things happen. Nothing I said or did had any effect. The only one who needed to hear my voice was the Lord. And again, He made it all work together, for all good. And once more I am at peace.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> Oh, that I would learn to trust the Prince of Peace. To be still and let God be God. To trust Him. To know that as I "<em>trust in the Lord with all my heart and lean not on my own understanding, in all my ways acknowledge him and He will make my paths straight!" (Proverbs 3:5-6)</em></span><br />
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At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-71219407565317036802012-11-24T09:43:00.001-05:002012-11-24T09:43:45.233-05:00A Brief Moment in Time<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Last night, my son dug up our old Sony video camera. We had purchased it in 1999 when we were leaving the west coast to move here to Ontario. Using it to sieze and corral every bit of what we loved and were leaving behind, we took tapes and tapes of footage of the pack and move. There were tapes where the video was strapped to the dashboard of our '84 Tercel as we roamed favourite and familiar sideroads through forest and oceanside running personal commentary so we'd never forget. "Oh, I've always loved that house. Or quick, turn here, this is where we saw the herring run." Knowing human memory can fail, we wanted proof that we had lived in one of the most beautiful places in the world. That for a precious five years, we lived in a smalltown beach community. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The camera did its job well. As each of our friends came to say goodbye, some local and some travelling from the mainland to spend scheduled weekends with us, we talked of the past, how we came to know and love each other and looked toward a future where the telephone would be the only link. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Watching the tapes last night, all I could think was that we were all so young. My son was only 16. His fresh sweet face was registering great glee over a newly aquired drivers licence and in many takes, he was the driver. He was leaving his home, but I don't recall him being negative in the least. He looked forward to a new start.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What I saw on my own face was quite different. Younger yes, but not fresher. My expressions were sadder, more harried. Shots of us carrying items out for a huge garage sale, of best friends meeting for a good-bye party singing and praying together after a big feast. Pasted smiles at times, when I wanted to collapse and scream, "why are we doing this?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For I loved my time on the Sunshine Coast. Though financially it had been a challenge, its beauty surpassed it all. On this coast, we had lived in a heritage house on the beach, rented a little cabin on 11 acres of wood and built a big Cape Cod style house of our own. We were accustomed to daily breaths of salt air and views of changing seas. No wonder we wanted it all on film. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">At one point on the tape, we were standing on the wharf in Roberts Creek panning the ocean and it struck me that just about everyone we knew and loved had come to visit and stand in that place. Family, friends from far and wide. Because it was beautiful. Because it was remote. Because for some reason, we were there and we were loved. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Much time has passed. Though we have fallen in love with Ontario, its beauty, its variety, most of my closest friends are on those tapes. Like us, many have left the coast....for Europe, for other parts of Canada and even the US. But for one brief moment, we all lived there together and I'm thankful for the old video camera that tied it all up like a gift to show it again and again. </span><br />
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At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-15899566195798377902012-10-24T21:01:00.001-04:002012-10-24T21:07:01.529-04:00Remembering the Little Ones<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> You know, I grew up in a home where my mother emphatically imposed her ideas on us that pets were a nuisance and were grand contributors to chaos and dirt in a home. Therefore, we had limited experience with pets. We had a little bird named Penny, a budgie that drank from our cereal bowls and pooped in our hair and on the sheers in the living room. Penny escaped one day and took her liberty beyond our back screen door. She didn't roam far and reappeared in the willow tree about a week later. She flew from the tree at my father's call and landed on his shoulder, but was never herself again. She came back starving, depleted and seemingly brain damaged. She could no longer judge distances and flew into walls and eventually drowned in the dishwater. A sad day for the pet deprived kids at our house. That, and a "dog for one day" fiasco are the only personal experiences I had with pets as a child. As an adult, I had a budgie for a short time when my son was little and it met its demise by flying into a wall heater. My son and I cried for days over "Mickie." I understand how attached one can be to an animal.</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> Today, my good friends had to put their elderly cat to sleep. Sparing her of longsuffering from a number of ailments must have been no easy decision. That tiny little lady, Elfie, was over 16 years old. She showed up at their door when they lived on acreage in western Canada, seemingly out of nowhere and she became their constant companion. She was named after Mount Elphinstone, the mountain in the coastal range in the distant view from where they lived. Elfie was there to greet the birth of their baby son a year later and shortly after made the journey with the family to the Netherlands. She was a delicate, longhaired cat with unusual markings and a gentle way about her. She liked to curl up in a ball in the bowl on the table. </em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> My friends will long remember the joy Elfie brought into their family over all these years. There are no words for this particular brand of loss. It's just plain sad. She may have been a little one, but her family presence was great.</em></span><br />
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<br />At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-66634616271624304602012-10-13T08:40:00.000-04:002012-10-13T08:40:29.561-04:00Delightful Tidbits<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> In both Germany and Holland there were a few things beyond the expected that were purely liefsome. Just out of the ordinary...here are some in completely random order....</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Like this vendor selling fricadels on the Alexanderplatz in Berlin. There is actually a burning grill strapped around his shoulders. Fricadels are like fast food - a sausage-like thing made of ground pork and herbs.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>And these walnuts were for sale....just on a little stand in front of a house in Geithoorn, where tourists walk along the canals.</em></span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All over Geithoorn, little boats were for rent for canal cruises. All colours and shapes, I was partial to these green ones.</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>The Lei linden Trees - The Dutch place poles between the trees </em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>and weave them together.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>And the hondentoilets - what a civilized way to deal with a doggy's doodoo.</em></span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>There was a mourning dove roosting in our friend's Catalpa tree.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Finding we were on actual Canadian soil in the middle of a forest in Overijssel - at the Holten Canadian War Cemetery. Thirteen acres was set aside by the Dutch government as an official cemetery for those Canadians who lost their lives in the Netherlands. </em></span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At the gateway to the Markerwaarddijk, there is an 85 foot, 60 ton metal statue of a crouching man. Designed by Anthony Gormley, it is his commentary on the concern of the ever-changing environment. He says,</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“One of the known environmental changes that is happening is the rising of the sea level through global warming,” explains Gormley. “It is critical to me that at the time of its making this work reacts with the viewer, the walking viewer, on the top of the polder and that the surface that the viewer stands on is the surface that the work stands on. The work cannot have a plinth. Over time, should the rising of the sea level mean that there has to be a rising of the dike, this means that there should be a progressive burying of the work.”</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">It would be sad to see this giant crouching man be slowly covered with water.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>So there you have it....a few thoughts, random indeed, of things unexpected in the Netherlands and Germany.</em></span></div>
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At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-36665347471944596752012-10-11T20:38:00.003-04:002012-10-11T20:39:38.841-04:00And There was Berlin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> When our Dutch friend Hans asked his friends and coworkers where he should take the Canadians for a few days, he heard a resounding, "Berlin." Now this was not something I would have expected. What an experience. We took a six hour drive on the Autobahn due east. Not one to drive at breakneck speed, Hans kept it steady as Audis and Porches flew past going 180kmp. I had always heard about the Autobahn, its reputation for speed, but it really was something to see for myself. I have one heavy-footed, German friend here in Canada who has a penchant for acceleration and now I know why. She was raised on German roads. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The Ampelmannchen - Berlin's beloved symbols on crossing light</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> As we came into Berlin, we were disappointed. It seemed dirty and run down, crowded. But when we turned a corner onto Charlottestrasse, things changed rapidly. Exquisite architecture - Corinthian columns on many buildings and many cathedrals and embassies lined the streets. After a quick check in at our hotel, we headed out for the Brandenburg Gate and to walk where the wall had come down. We walked till blistered and saw famous shops selling chocolate and cars and expensive jewelry. We ended our day at the "Old Berliner" restaurant to enjoy "Crispy Knuckle" - a pork delicacy. And we had to try the Raspberry Wheat beer...a Berlin specialty.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>The Brandenburg Gate - the entryway to the boulevard of linden trees</i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Up the "Beanpole" a television tower with panoramic vistas of the city</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Last February, we were contacted by Hans with a quick request for our full names and birthdates. Hans said it was for a surprise. We couldn't figure that one out, but when presented with the opportunity to tour the Reichstag, the German parliament building, we were delighted. Entering the building was by appointment only; the reason we needed to be registered for the tour. What a slick operation. After going through security and showing our passports and having our purses scanned, we entered an elevator, were given headsets and instructed to head into the beehive. What a fete of German engineering. We were given the history of Berlin and Germany in about a 45 minute tour. As we walked up the beehive, we were instructed where to stop and where to look - a quick way to pack in the information. The parliament actually sits in a room under the hive. The hive is open to the elements at the top where air is let in and adjusted to best benefit those inside. Truly amazing.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Inside the beehive... the parliament sits in the room below this glass floor.</i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>The Beehive - Inside the old architecture sits this structure.</i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>One angle of the Reichstag</i><br /><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i> </i><span style="font-size: small;">On both evenings after hours of walking and looking we pulled up chairs and parked ourselves in the Gendarmarket, a public square with the German cathedral on one side, the French on the other and the opera house in the middle. This wide expanse was the stuff of movies. To sit and sip good coffee in this place with dear friends was the perfect end to perfect days. I don't know who recommended Berlin as a place for us to see, but I am truly thankful they did. God bless our friends, Hans and Jo, who arranged the whole thing.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>The Gendarmarket</i></span></td></tr>
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At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-25344521629519474772012-10-09T21:41:00.001-04:002012-10-09T21:41:53.512-04:00These Are A Few of my Favourite Things....<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Favourite places, times and memories....</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: small;"><em>The little town of Schermerhorn near the farm. This photo was taken just before 10:00pm.</em></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>The bikes just about anywhere. This one was in Edam.</em></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: small;"><em>The town of Edam with its Great Church, canal and cheese market.</em></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>The Palace - Het Loo, once the residence of Dutch Royalty in Apeldoorn.</em></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>The river-front, the narrow streets and crooked church in Kampen.</em></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: small;"><em>The Afsluitdijk - the dijk that helped to create the polder-land.</em></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: small;"><em>The glass angel-man in Zwolle.</em></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em><span style="font-size: small;">The Cheese Market in Alkmaar.</span></em> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>Geithorn - a village with no roads, just canals.</em></span></td></tr>
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At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-63850155771497630032012-10-09T20:13:00.000-04:002012-10-09T20:13:02.403-04:00Amsterdam<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> We spent such a short time in Amsterdam, that it is nearly impossible to make a judgement of any kind. When I say I was in Amsterdam, people ask about the negative aspects of this great city - the "coffee houses", the streetwalkers. We saw none of this. What we experienced was a beautiful city with great crowds of walkers and cyclers, tourists and locals all vying for places to stroll, ride, sit and drive. I realize we were visiting during the height of tourist season, but oh my, it was overwhelming to be there. Traffic was abominable. We cancelled plans to take a canal tour, as it was just too stressful to find our way to parking for the boats. Our afternoon in the big city was cut short and we ran for the solace of the farm.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>"I amsterdam" in front of the Rijksmuseum</em></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But I get ahead of myself. The early part of the day was the fulfillment of a dream for me. Having studied Art History all those years ago in university, visiting both the Van Gogh Museum and the Rijksmuseum in one day was a long-awaited joy. The Rijksmuseum, a castle of a place, has been closed for over ten years for repair and renovation, but a number of wings are open to the public. There in those rooms, we got to see Rembrandt's "The Nightwatch." Standing there seeing it in person was surreal. I remember a visiting lecturer at school spending two hours explaining the details of the piece. Unfortunately, I forgot most of it, but the enormity of the painting did not disappoint. There were hundreds of pieces to fill the senses, but my favourites were the small Vermeers. For years, I'd pour over glossy reproductions, but here I was spellbound in front of oil panels that Jan Vermeer had actually touched. The light! And a wonderful aspect of the Rijksmuseum - they allow photo taking. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>Vermeer's "Milk Maid"</i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Rembrandt's "The Nightwatch"</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And then there was the Van Gogh museum. No photos allowed. My husband snuck a few pics from under his coat. No, we didn't use a flash, no harm was done. But to stand feet from "The Sunflowers" and many self portraits, having become so familiar with them from calendars and texts was other-worldly. We rented MP3's for running commentary as we walked through the gallery. And I really wanted to purchase something from the gift shop as a remembrance of the place; but when I saw Vincent's sunflowers on everything from scarves to pencil cases, to umbrellas and lunchboxes, I could not lay out a single Euro. The merchandise cheapened the experience for me, so I walked away with some postcard memories. But I was feet from Vincent's handiwork. Imagine he sold only one painting in his short lifetime and now everyone knows his name.</span>At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-41974465824312087542012-10-09T19:30:00.000-04:002012-10-09T19:30:07.185-04:00Holland Day Trips<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNtvsAXF-cw8sc682AqufxKePBSZ5PXy_y5JrmzbbUrjdLUGryxmth9ub3EtxW6G_ajBksQaul_mU9EHHJwkOWmOqfiflx01B_7Z75I3RbTkAt-9z0ojwMCtbbkpInJf0Sax2-r7BOvqn/s1600/The+Farm+206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em><img border="0" height="223" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNtvsAXF-cw8sc682AqufxKePBSZ5PXy_y5JrmzbbUrjdLUGryxmth9ub3EtxW6G_ajBksQaul_mU9EHHJwkOWmOqfiflx01B_7Z75I3RbTkAt-9z0ojwMCtbbkpInJf0Sax2-r7BOvqn/s400/The+Farm+206.JPG" width="400" /></em></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Wee Jelly Fish Catching the Sunset's Rays</em></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One way to cram in as much learning and sight-seeing as possible in a short European trip is to station one's self in a central location and head out by car daily to explore. De Anna Hoeve, the farm was the starting point. From there, we took jaunts to the North Sea just before sunset, the city of Amsterdam, and two of my most favourite places of all - Edam and Volendam. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The North Sea - We headed out in late afternoon to Egmond, a sea-side town on the North Sea, the gateway to the North Atlantic. As we crossed the countryside ocean wards, old, traditional windmills made way for a forest of wind turbines, many far out in the ocean. The beach was like most salt water beaches, with sunbathers in all manner of dress, (and I'm told "undress" at times). Nestled into the dunes were rows and rows of rental "huts." These summer boxes could be rented for days or weeks at a time for storage of beach equipment of all sorts. How convenient for repeat seasonal visitors! And to my fascination, quarter-sized jellyfish were washed up on the sand and we were advised to watch where we walked. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>Beach Storage at the Foot of the Dunes</em></span></td></tr>
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At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-34641445362021596142012-10-07T08:32:00.000-04:002012-10-07T08:33:18.234-04:00Holland - De Anna Hoeve<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> The pastoral flavour of the town of Nijverdal is not limited by any means to the province of Overijssel. Every place we went in Holland, barring Rotterdam and Amsterdam, proved to be an idyllic mix of water management and creative land usage. In our second week in Holland our friends surprised us with a six day trip to the west where they had rented a house on a working farm near Schemerhorn. De Anna Hoeve was once a barn. Thatched peat ceilings, low windows and massive beams remain in a modernized home that sleeps eight people comfortably. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>Once a barn...now a house.</em></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>De Anna Hoeve Farmhouse Kitchen....thatched ceilings and beams....</em></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Surrounded by managed ditches, this was a place to fish! I was intrigued by the technique used to catch fish. The pole was not the six foot one with a spinning reel attached that I was used to. And the fish knew it. With that style of reel, not one fish was caught. Hans used a rod measuring six metres. It was equipped with a swinging line and a tiny hook. Little balls of bread were attached and as the bread hit the water, the fish hit the bread. Hans caught a number of small colourful fish, but I couldn't manage that rod...way too heavy. There was one elusive monster that we chased for days; we could see it make its rounds about once per hour. Right below the surface, it left a perceptible wake. But try as we might to cast right in front of it, it was having no part in our plan. We also tried to use a bait trap to catch eels, but to no avail. I was both relieved and disappointed when we retrieved the trap after it had been left in the ditch overnight.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Staying at De Anna Hoeve we watched the cows cross the ditch bridge daily and the horse graze right across from us. Huge rabbits and many ground birds shared the land. Miles from a city, the farm held it's own noise...braying, mooing, cooing....and of course the tractors that were cutting hay for feed. We spent much of our time on the deck watching and listening and breathing in the peace of this place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This home proved to be a most restful place and a base for us as we struck out to surrounding towns and cities to take in all we could of Holland. </span>At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-3899794832843544622012-09-26T21:09:00.001-04:002012-09-26T21:09:11.226-04:00The Best Part of Summer, 2012<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This summer, for the first time in my life I left the continent of North America and headed across the Atlantic for Europe. Our plan was to spend a couple of weeks with our beloved friends. In planning the trip, we said simply that we wanted to see their life, their joys, their favourite places, meet friends and family....see how and where they spend their days. We knew on some level they loved their country, but I don't think in their descriptions, they ever did it verbal justice. I still can't get my head around this and I am at a loss why. The trip was so far beyond my wildest imaginings that I don't know where to begin. We traveled through seven provinces over dykes and rivers, through river channels and forest roads that defy description. I don't know what I thought Holland would be, but it was a delight on every front. And having such perfect hosts was a gift I'll not ever forget.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I will try over these next few blog entries to describe what we experienced...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After a sleepless ocean-cross night, our friends fetched us from Schiphol in Amsterdam and drove across the country to the east province of Overijssel, to their home in Nijverdal. I was speechless. Even in a sleepy haze, the colour of the countryside, and the vast differences in the architecture was astounding. The first few houses I saw with thatched roofs I thought must be touristy places, storybook houses. But no. The houses look like that.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Brick and Thatched Roofs....the Dutch call them "Peat" roofs. Notice the woven willow fence to the left.</em></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On that first night when we sleepily explored the town of Nijverdal two things stood out...I saw brick roads and brick houses. There was more brick than I was accustomed to. And I was stunned by the Dutch practice of perfect gardening. Every plot of land, whether outside small rowhouses or surrounding larger properties was manicured. Careful, artistic clipping of hedges and flower placement was evident wherever we looked. Hydrangeas of colours I'd never seen before took up whole front lawn areas. Woven fences sat at property lines and the biggest surprise of all was that small farms not only rubbed up against town boundaries at the outskirts, but were interspersed in neighborhood spaces. All land is used. I got the impression that the Dutch take no land for granted. They don't have the wide open spaces we take for granted in Canada, so they seem to demonstrate a love of what land they have.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>A small farm around the corner from our friend's townhome. An interesting storage system for hay.</em></span></td></tr>
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At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-22425358417705056272012-09-18T08:33:00.001-04:002012-09-18T08:33:41.938-04:00Summer 2012<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Every time I sat down to write this summer, I was overwhelmed with the enormity of life. The time off from the busy school year was not the leisurely progression of one event to the next that I anticipated. The days were full. The basement called. The boxes of detritus that had been pitched into the storage room with the door hastily closed behind them now called in a whiny voice…sort me! So for what seemed like days on end, I sorted through boxes and closets and drawers and heaved six garbage bags to the curb and five to Goodwill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still unable to part with a smaller wardrobe (kept with high hopes or delusional thinking), the closets are still crammed. But drawers emptied quickly and leftover boxes are now labeled and stacked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had other aspirations as well…I would paint all the doors in the house and scour the mudroom. Nope, didn’t happen. That seemed too formidable. In the midst of all this, I planned for a new school year, and managed to do four paintings. (pictures not walls.) And two other big things..... more to come!</span></div>
At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-45542231177300971552012-06-19T21:47:00.001-04:002012-06-19T21:52:26.230-04:00And What Is With The Animals?<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em> Driving down the street in my own residential area at 5:30pm today, I came across a fox eating a live squirrel on my neighbour's front lawn. Now that's something you don't see every day! Zooming for the camera in this intense humidity, I worked up quite a sweat. I did approach the fox from the car, windows down, AC blasting. No way I was going to get out of the car. I'm not that brave. But that fox was only about 10 feet away and seemed completely unconcerned by my presence. Is it the heat that has caused this animal to promenade the front lawns of our street?</em></span><br />
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<br />At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-78127544164151617272012-06-19T21:29:00.004-04:002012-06-19T21:51:51.499-04:00We're Having a Heat Wave, A Tropical Heat Wave... <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Summer. Yep, it's here. Forty-two degrees celcius - the humidex today and for me, it is just too much. Yet, I am one of the blessed ones. I have an air conditioned home and car and my classroom has a window air conditioner that takes the edge off if nothing else. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Have you noticed how everything seems more exaggerated when it's this hot? My students are much louder when these days come upon us. They seem to crash through doors and bang lockers and converse louder over the roar of the AC and I have to top them to get their attention. These sweaty-faced rascals have come to the near end of the school year and they are like greyhounds straining at tightly tethered leashes. I can hardly wait to set them free....free to cope with this heat in swimming pools and camps, at their grandparents' houses and on camping vacations with friends and family. And as the rope slackens, I too am free. Long postponed novels and stretches of time to study and write and paint...time will be my own for a period. The heat is not a long-sought-after thing for me. But breezy summer days are upon us and I intend to spend as much time as possible out-of-doors this season.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYSUWKZxUIIo66CbHcCFpsW4aq1-0C4pyWeTUGOLzLQcuLNSFXzySFfyoE4PqGTq66JIcLBFXTo72ZyHfDt9xzpE6u2LuNWv0ru1OeSQ0VNYyx6Y8rihTPZEQQIWVRX1WPe-NGKCCfXDi_/s1600/chairs_on_dock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="380" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYSUWKZxUIIo66CbHcCFpsW4aq1-0C4pyWeTUGOLzLQcuLNSFXzySFfyoE4PqGTq66JIcLBFXTo72ZyHfDt9xzpE6u2LuNWv0ru1OeSQ0VNYyx6Y8rihTPZEQQIWVRX1WPe-NGKCCfXDi_/s400/chairs_on_dock.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-85230281345912647932012-06-01T22:49:00.002-04:002012-06-01T23:02:49.229-04:00Perigee moon<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Side road darkness </em></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Monopod at ready... </em></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>There she is!</em></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>17% bigger and 30% brighter </em></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Nothing disappoints here </em></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>A united quest; A shared moment </em></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Perigee of the heart </em></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>On Woodbine.</em></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dUKweaHVcLwCAR52lX8g1pMjFTCM4XnMIbFXfKnS2BdFVPBBVT94HVe5hkyGN4ItzojdidH6eu4NAKKr9wZKbpX81lKayCXTNHGcY47RGMEjLLd07InTy3K1UNhbAhqRUYAomJQREi95/s1600/IMG_5327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dUKweaHVcLwCAR52lX8g1pMjFTCM4XnMIbFXfKnS2BdFVPBBVT94HVe5hkyGN4ItzojdidH6eu4NAKKr9wZKbpX81lKayCXTNHGcY47RGMEjLLd07InTy3K1UNhbAhqRUYAomJQREi95/s400/IMG_5327.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em>Supermoon, May 5, 2012</em></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-51339363554253319962012-05-10T08:24:00.001-04:002012-05-10T08:24:28.191-04:00Accusations<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Can you imagine how Jesus felt when day after day, he was accused....by the religious leaders of his day, neighbours He grew up with, and the angry in the crowds who followed? When He stood before his accusers, the Pharisees had no trouble drumming up those who would lie to suit their purposes. In the face of it, Jesus didn't defend Himself, He didn't plead His case. He knew who He was; He knew His destiny. What courage, what tenaciousness to stand in the face of trickery and deceit. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On a very small level, this week, being falsely accused, I saw a tiny glimpse of what He must have felt. Unlike Jesus, I plead my case. I did not remain stoic in the face of this trial. I spoke with those in authority over me. I worked with the accuser to get to the reasons he felt this was necessary. And at the core of it all, I could actually pray for this young boy, who in a rage over being corrected on an assignment, felt he could liberally vent with a personal, vindictive slur against this old teacher. How in the moment children live! If only they could see the hours we spend in the middle of the long nights wondering how to best encourage them, the evenings spent pouring over their workbooks and essays, trying to squeeze out marks and making labourious decisions over final grades, ever trying to be fair in our dealings and assessments. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And isn't that the way? Like children, we cannot see behind the scenes and into the hearts of those who hurt. When someone rants out a verbal attack, he will never have enough information to judge rightly. He is in the moment and doesn't have all the facts. The Pharisees were "blind guides", completely without truth when it came to the identity of Jesus. Here they were, the leaders of the synagogue entangled in laws and traditions and couldn't recognize the Holy One standing in front of them. So they accused.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I learned something this week. Accusations, in whatever form, can be met head on with truth in quietness and trust of the One who can be our Champion in any situation. When guilty, best to admit it head on. When innocent, best to pray for those who accuse and try to bring closure with forgiveness and truth. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-61949979613063310702012-05-04T19:45:00.003-04:002012-05-04T19:45:56.098-04:00Elusive Words<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"> <div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are words here, deep inside,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but I can't find them.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They peak from rough edges of stone walls,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but glancing once, twice,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">gone as a vapor.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Are there keys, both brass and gold</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In sodden pockets?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How to reach them</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Digging once, twice</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Only to find holes, absence.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In quietness and rest</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hope</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hope for change</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Open doors to misty vistas</span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now clearing where words appear.</span></div>
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</span>At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-90071417772973720512012-04-27T17:46:00.000-04:002012-04-27T17:46:23.010-04:00Way Too Long<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> With good friends battling cancer and the days and months and years mounting on the calendar, my husband and I are starting to fight the good fight for our health. Would you mind if I I have been taking an on-line, "wake-up call" type of course about the nature of disease and the elements of healthy living. Oh my. Sure wish I'd paid attention to this years ago. But I'm happy to report that we have made radical changes in what is in our cupboards, fridge and cooking pots. For far too long we've lived as if these God-given bodies are immortal, all the while watching the mirror and noticing things thicken and descend. We've now decided to buy organic and we pay twice as much to purchase chemical-free and antibiotic-free meat. The pressure cooker we bought almost a year ago has been dusted off and is blowing off steam almost daily as we enjoy concoctions abundant in fresh vegetables and lean meats, complex grains and beans. My husband is a creative cook, a researched culinarian who is fearless is suffusing stews and pilafs with an abundance of spices. And my great delight is to return from work to tantalizing smells as I hit the driveway. The key is not too over-indulge, even though the food itself is healthy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've also finally committed to taking vitamins. For years I've balked at it, thinking it was all a hoax and would openly pooh-pooh those who lined up at the local health food store to carry out numerous jars. Taking a superfood like blue-green algae would never have occurred to me, had I not taken the time to reflect on its value. And now, I'm committed to upping the health factor. Small steps, one or two at a time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Trying to move a bit more, as I learned the lymphatic system, the body's cleaner, doesn't have a pump and movement makes it work more effectively. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And then there is taking care of emotional health....trying to do what it says in Philippians 4:8, <em>"...whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."</em> What a battle sometime to keep thoughts positive, but the negative only has a detrimental effect on these bodies. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So on we go....onwards and upwards!</span>At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-11225834819043006452012-02-10T17:37:00.001-05:002012-02-10T17:49:08.707-05:00An Unforgettable Birthday Moment <span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today is my birthday. I actually forgot about it until I got to work and someone wished me well. I don't think I've ever forgotten my birthday before. It's not like I hadn't thought about it earlier in the week, but just momentarily it slipped my mind. Surrounded by wonderful people, I received emailed messages and created e-cards throughout the day. There were phone calls from friends and of course my beloved son got me out of class. How wonderful to hear that voice.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> But one call touched me so that I can't stop weeping. My father, my beloved dad, called and said, "Wait, listen to this." And he played a little birthday song on a tiny hurdy-gurdy that had been in the drawer in his back room for years. He said he thought of it this morning, had no idea where the little music machine was, but "The Lord must have put my hand right on it," he said. So he delighted me with this birthday tune. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> You see, I found out recently that my father has Alzheimer's. We've suspected for some time, and even though he was tested three years ago, by a simple oversight, we were never notified. My dear dad doesn't know this diagnosis. I pray he never does. When I found out, my heart was flooded with compassion and a deeper understanding of his daily trials. For him to remember the hurdy-gurdy and my birthday, is a gift I'll treasure always. </span><br />
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</span>At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-27355131095052435562012-01-23T13:47:00.000-05:002012-01-23T13:47:43.130-05:00The Roller Coaster<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Life, of late, has been a proverbial roller coaster ride. Events with family and friends have had high highs and the lowest of lows. I would never pay money to get on the Behemoth at Canada's Wonderland and I don't like these emotional roller coasters either. Faith in God is the only lifeline here.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>The uphill has its own peculiar struggle. This is the outward living with extraordinary trials on a day to day basis. There can be a tough slog to the top of the crest. I can hear the gears grinding and it's oh-so-slow at times. I look over the edge of the car and only see catastrophe looming, should I deviate even one millimetre from the track. I hold tight waiting for the next event and wonder if things will ever change. It's at this time I focus on Jesus and His Word, and look neither to the left or right. I find comfort and resolve in His face.</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Then all of a sudden, there's a breakthrough - the radical change. For a few brief seconds, there's a level area. I take a moment and breathe in fresh air. There's a momentary rest. It's here I find time to build up my strength, to enjoy the Lord's company, just sitting on His lap.</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>But life goes on. There's the downslope ride. It can be easier than moving up the hill, but I still need to brace myself as I go. If I don't hold tight to the Lord, will I be able to make it unscathed to the bottom?</em></span><br />
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<em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>The worst part of this roller coaster life-ride are the unexpected turns, when I am jerked from one direction to another unexpectedly. It feels like I'm going to be flung over the edge into the abyss. I'm minding my own business, moving along and all of a sudden there's a phone call or email that changes everything. I learn, often the hard way, not to hold on tightly to my personal agenda. I need to drop everything and focus on another's need, another's plan. These are times of sacrifice and holding tightly to the Lord's hand. </em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>This is the stuff of life. High highs. Low lows. And that easy part in between. The trick is to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus and find His peace always.</em></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394;"><em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Hebrews 12:1-2 says <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">" ...</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith..." </span></em></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXoU8ZEGDxl9-VHSPhR3tt39q8wknGGXlKRrb8n79OkmP9kAKhtx0iB6yf_ovfmQj8NF5eh1kAadi99VK2JaxD6JFpzc0cedYb43VYDLBcNmruSmWkMVTCOxJwQhlzbgVn-U06r4BSHfp/s1600/Behemoth07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="368px" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXoU8ZEGDxl9-VHSPhR3tt39q8wknGGXlKRrb8n79OkmP9kAKhtx0iB6yf_ovfmQj8NF5eh1kAadi99VK2JaxD6JFpzc0cedYb43VYDLBcNmruSmWkMVTCOxJwQhlzbgVn-U06r4BSHfp/s640/Behemoth07.jpg" width="640px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-13445244909379782292011-12-31T08:52:00.002-05:002011-12-31T09:12:04.068-05:00Happy New Year!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's the last day of 2011 and here is my hope for all of us in 2012: that we would see the hand of God move in the circumstances of our lives; that we would know He has great plans for us; and that we would have the desires of our hearts. Sounds heavy, doesn't it? It sounds almost ominous and frought with responsibility. But wouldn't it be wonderful to hand it all over to the God who made you and to realize he wants only good for you? That He actually has a purpose for you? That he wants to give you your heart's desires? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">In the last years, I have become increasingly convinced that the Lord is good, and only good. Because He is love and His motivation is love, He is for me, and is good to me. I know the Bible says it, and now, in my heart, I believe it. In the midst of trials and tribulations, when the world throws dung from every side, God is there, <em><span style="color: #20124d;">"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble."</span></em> (Psalm 46:1) So I look for His hand.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">We are here by God's choice. He loves us and reveals His plan for us as we look at Him: <span style="color: #20124d;"><em>"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."</em></span> (Jeremiah 29:11) Again, He is good. So I ask Him what He wants for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Like a joyful Father, and He is a joyful Father, He loves to give gifts to His children. <em><span style="color: #20124d;">"Delight yourself also in the LORD, And He shall give you the desires of your heart."</span></em> (Psalm 37:4) He places His desires in our hearts and He fulfills them in His time. These desires fulfilled bring the greatest joy. So I pray and ask for those desires to be reached. And I thank Him for all He is and does.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Happy New Year. Happy New Day...full of His mercy and love. </span>At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1571662265062611686.post-37030144575585333322011-12-25T09:25:00.001-05:002011-12-25T09:29:15.842-05:00Merry Christmas<span lang="EN"> <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> It’s early Christmas morning and it’s quiet. In the last days, in a flurry of running and wrapping, shopping and smiling, it’s been hard to schedule in a time just to breathe. But now, I ignore the ticking clock on the mantle and, I sit and reflect.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Yesterday I had an almost two-hour car ride to pick up my son. Listening to various radio programs, I had the realization that the non-Christian world, right here in our country, doesn’t know what to do with “Christmas.” They appear confused or pressured to lean to one side or the other. There’s the long-standing back and forth on whether or not to say the words, “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays” by shop-keepers and bank tellers. But yesterday on a program on CBC, I heard the epitome. On a show where people were telling “holiday” stories, (none of which had one iota to do with Christmas as a celebration), the announcer said, “Happy December 25th Day, everyone.” That one really made me sad. It felt as though the person who said it was as lost as one could possibly be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> On that same station and in malls everywhere, there are potent, life-giving hymns being played. In public places, traditional Christmas hymns such as, “Silent Night”, “Joy to the World” and “O Holy Night” make their way onto song lists. The message is there: Jesus was born and He had a purpose in mind:</span><br />
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<div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Peace on Earth and mercy mild - God and sinners reconciled!” </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth.” </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(Hark the Herald Angels Sing) </span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What child is this who, laid to rest </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Mary's lap is sleeping? …</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nails, spear shall pierce Him through,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The cross be borne for me, for you.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hail, hail the Word made flesh,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Babe, the Son of Mary.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(What Child is This)</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The French version of “O Holy Night” brings light and understanding:</span><br />
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<div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>Minuit, chrétiens, c’est l’heure solennelle<br />
Où l’Homme-Dieu descendit jusqu’à nous,<br />
Pour effacer la tache originelle,<br />
Et de son Père arrêter le courroux.<br />
Le monde entier tressaille d’espérance,<br />
À cette nuit qui lui donne un Sauveur.<br />
Peuple, à genoux, attends ta délivrance<br />
C’est pour nous tous qu’il naît, qu’il souffre et meurt.<br />
Peuple, debout! Chante ta délivrance.<br />
Noël! Noël! Chantons le Rédempteur!</em></span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Midnight, Christians, it is the solemn hour<br />
When God as man descended among us<br />
To expunge the stain of original sin<br />
And to put an end to the wrath of his father.<br />
The entire world thrills with hope<br />
On this night which gives us a savior.<br />
People, on your knees, attend your deliverance.<br />
It is for us all that he was born, that he suffered and died.<br />
People, stand up, sing your deliverance!<br />
Christmas! Christmas! Let us sing the Redeemer!</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These songs, and so many others reflect what’s written in the gospels. He is what we’re celebrating. His purpose, His goodness, His love. His message is simple, yet profound: He loves us. He loved us enough to set aside his throne and live among us and to provide an eternity with Him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Merry Christmas!</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span> <div align="center"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uPrh2DWPm-E/TvcyUYjq_aI/AAAAAAAAALg/gYy5fAz9FRk/s1600/nativity_joseph_mary_jesus_light_yoest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uPrh2DWPm-E/TvcyUYjq_aI/AAAAAAAAALg/gYy5fAz9FRk/s400/nativity_joseph_mary_jesus_light_yoest.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>At Heart Levelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12513836992012290905noreply@blogger.com2