Grandma Annie

The silk lilies sit in the crystal vase, worn and dusty
They observe...
She shuffles in, aproned, with stockings rolled down like ankle doughnuts
To sit in her favourite place beside the good light
Where threads lie ready.


Grasping needle and white strands, calloused fingers
Guide to form designs.
Stacks of cross-stitched patches grow and wait.
No patterns to follow, she deftly weaves the needle's course.


Eyes, deeply wrinkled, still bright
Smile at filament motif - ideas tried and true.
Cobalt blue today, white tracks move along
Till all corners join together as one.


The quilt is ready. Soon to grace a
Granddaughter's room.
Only the warmth a Grandmother can bring.
Mine an expert maker of love blankets.

Hope That Does Not Disappoint

Romans 12:12 - Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. (NIV)


A couple of years ago, I was having a "down day". As I walked to my dad's house in the rain that Monday, I felt forlorn. Life, of late, had not been particularly kind. My mom had passed away several months earlier, and I was struggling to make sense of it all. At only 53 years of age, I was suddenly and irrevocably plunged into the world of bereavement. I hadn't had much experience with death, and now, here it was. It had moved into my heart with a vengeance, bringing along with it the thousands of niggling questions that I'd never had to think of before. Even though mom and I were both Christians, and I believed I'd see mom again, questions still arose. What was heaven like? What do people do there? Could my mother see me? Could Jesus give mom a message? Life would never be the same.
And that day, I had missed the bus, and the rain was drenching my sweater. As I passed the church, something caught my eye on the sidewalk: rain-soaked confetti -- coloured little dots catching the light on a gray, pebbled walkway. Clearly, someone had something to celebrate. There must have been a wedding that weekend, and in disregard for all requests from the pulpit, the confetti had flown at bride and groom. I could imagine their smiles -- a day of hope, a day of joy for two families coming together. A faint grin crossed my face as I thought of my own wedding day -- and more importantly, a wedding to come: the marriage feast of Jesus and His bride, the Church. It will be a time of rejoicing, unity, intimacy, and putting away of all tears. My heart was suddenly filled with hope. This grief would not last forever.
Life is sometimes heavy, but hope in Christ and intimacy with Him lightens the load. Today, let's decide to put our hope in the only One worthy of it: beautiful Jesus!
Prayer: Father, thank You for giving us Your Son. Thank You that death is not the end for Your children, but the beginning. We look forward to that day when we can see You face to face, with no more tears. Renew our hope today and give us the joy that only You can bring. We love You! In Jesus' name, we pray. Amen.

This devotional was published today, with minor variations on the PCCWeb Daily webpage: http://daily.presbycan.ca/ .

Privilege, Peace and Pie

       The weekend before last, I had the privilege of spending some much needed respite at Blue Lake near Parry Sound. Jennie and Jim kindly opened their cottage for friends, Ralph and Evelyn and I. The five of us spent the time strolling and conversing, appreciating the deep ornamentation and aromas of fall. We had no agenda, no schedule. That in itself made for a peaceful weekend.

       We sat in each other's company and enjoyed the leisure of it all. Evelyn is an artist, skilled in ways I can only dream of, a great inspiration to pursue gifts given by God. She was diligent to sketch and experiment with watercolour, rarely seen without sketchbook in hand. Jim, when not sawing up a large tree he had felled, favoured a corner with good light, off in another world with a good book. Ralph helped Jim with the tree and joined Jennie and I in many games at the table. Jennie floated among us singing the song of the hostess, making sure we always had whatever we needed. The food was grand and more than one recipe was copied. And to my delight, being raised on good pie, there were both lemon meringue and a berry crumble to choose from. Sheer relaxation.
       The place itself is a sanctuary of peace. Surrounded by tall oaks and maples, the cottage is nestled in, away from the road, up the hill from the water. A place well known to bears and bluejays, the forest sings with movement. Jennie and Jim bought the twelve acres at the end of the lake in the late eighties and have been spending the warm months working on their dwelling all these years. More country house than cottage, as it is fully winterized, bathroomed and bedroomed, the sheer size of it takes it fully out of the cottage category. But it wasn't always this way. For the first three years, they lived in a trailer. Patiently, persistently they used their "Willy," (a jeep sort of thing) to haul in materials and nail by nail build their "Lighthouse." Just last summer, their modern kitchen was completed. My favourite room runs along the side of the house with large windows on every side. It has all the benefits of being in the forest without the bugs and heat. Surrounded by nature, that room could stand by itself as a reason to build in the bush. 

       Jennie and Jim are salt and light. They humbly offer their abode to any who need it. It has been a place of honeymoons, baptisms, retreats and reunions. They've welcomed guests from their home in York region and as far away as Holland, Sweden, Finland and even New Zealand. Their doors are open and so are their hearts. I count it a privilege to have been part of this group.
       One guest echoed the sentiments of myself and many others when in their guestbook, he simply wrote,
                       Jennie and Jim,
                            Thank you for this place of peace.
                             May you be abundantly blessed!
　

His Place

There are those days
when a throng of thoughts niggle away at a heart,
lists of lists
when no solutions are easy and rest seems remote

And there are those days when peace surrounds and lifts
when calm breaks forth on a biting sea
and life touches down

How to reach that peace during times
When minutes streak like fireworks
when time flashes instead of passes

Only the Prince of Peace can calm the soul significantly -
Only the Good Shepherd can hold me in his arms
and rock away the driven ness

Today the choice is made
His eyes behold me,
His arms encircle me...
It is well with my soul.

Survival of the Busiest

     Just when I wonder if life can get more complicated, something new arises. I am reminded of the summer of 2008. My mother died suddenly, I got food poisoning in Cuba, and while there, we got a call from my son saying he had totaled our car. I was in deep, stupefying grief, had a stomach ailment from the nether regions and came home to a notice from Revenue Canada that we were to be audited. I was trying to look after my grieving, confused father and regularly thought I was going to have a stroke. This all happened within three weeks. I walked around in a fog of desperation. Surprisingly, I felt the Lord’s tangible presence, as I knew many people were praying for me. That summer passed without me having any recollection of it. It was just mourning.

      So what I face now is simple really. No one has died. The government is leaving us be, our cars work and my doctor informs me that I am healthy, but perhaps a little nuts. The addition has left me busy and worn to a frazz.

      The water had to be turned off for 48 hours, so this week I checked into a cheap (seriously cheap) hotel and got exactly what I paid for. By 11:40p.m. I had to flee because the smell from this “non-smoking room” (yah, sure!), was going to permeate my being for life.  I confronted the desk clerk. She came clean and said it “used to be” a smoking room. I’m thinking that if it used to be, it was a pretty recent change. The place was an abyss of lung clogging particles. And I got to pay for it, as they refused to refund my hard-earned money.

       This morning the water was on at home. Things are shaping up. In the midst of all this, I am making decisions about toilets and sink placements, light fixtures and towel bars. It’s like being in labour and the birth is taking forever. 
      I visited my father this past weekend and he commented on how much dust was in his house and wondered where it all came from. I advised him that I am now a carrier and probably it fell from my hair and clothing. My beloved husband wants to hire a cleaning service at the end of it all and I say, “Bravo…I love you!”
     A wonderful sign of hope....there are slender tendrils of baby grass sprouting in the backyard. We could be growing a lawn back there!

Counting the days till normal life returns…




Looking like HORDERS...

 

Time

       A few weeks ago, Cuz came into town from Montreal and we had a quick opportunity to dash into the bedroom at my father's house and talk privately. I love my cousin. I've never had a sister, and Cuz is the closest I'll ever get. We grew up around the corner from each other and our families were close. She is hilarious. She "gets it." There's history there and family traits we can laugh about.
       She brought with her a newspaper article and photograph about an old friend, someone we haven't seen in 30 years. I met "Jim" in my second year of university, in art school. He was a looker. And manners...the guy was pure, genuine charm. We had the same sense of humour and could fall down laughing on almost every occasion. We shared a love of fine art and Gary Larson "Far Side" cartoons. We became quite close, but never in a romantic sense. I had a steady guy at the time, and he loved the tall, slender types, something I have never, ever come close to being accused of. So we had a "safe" guy-gal friendship.
       I don't remember when I introduced Cuz to Jim, but there was a definite attraction between them. (She takes after the other side of the family - the willowy ones.) We were visiting the gallery where he worked and she and I headed off to the ladies' room and spoke rather enthusiastically about how captivating Jim was. We were mighty red-faced when we came out and realized he had been waiting in the hallway and had heard everything we said. Gentleman that he was, he pretended he didn’t.
       Cuz liked Jim, but I don't think anything too intimate developed between them. A kiss or two, but both instinctively knew that separate ways were inevitable. As time went by, we all lost touch. Jim ran the local art gallery, Cuz struck out to become a paper restorer and worked for a number of galleries across North America. I became an art and English teacher on the west coast. All of us in different cities....life goes on and the drift becomes sure.
       And now the memories flood back as I look at a photo of a man I'd never recognize. We were astounded at how timeworn he appeared. When I asked my husband how old he thought the man in the photo looked, he guessed a full 20 years older than Jim is. Our friend looked gaunt and ill, white haired with sunken eyes. How could this be? Time had ravaged him. I wonder what life events had taken such a toll on this gentle man? Was he ill or deeply grieving? After a distance of 30 years, a phone call seems out of place, nosy, inappropriate. Cuz and I decide to just leave it be. But I will pray for my old friend. It is a blessing to know that Jesus sees all and can touch that heart, so distant from me. And I thank Him for the memories that still make me grin.

Cousins!

How I "See" It

       Being a drawer and watercolour painter, over the years, I have taught myself to see in two dimensions. When I need to, I can bring what's before me into a flat plane, so that I can concentrate on positive and negative spaces in order to draw them. I have never "worked with my hands," to create in the form of sculpture or to build anything three dimensional. It's not in me to do. I have been known to draw or paint pictures of houses and buildings and in my younger days, became somewhat skilled at it. But there it lies. I create in two dimensions.

"Old House"

        When we hired someone to draw up blueprints for our little house addition, I found it difficult to visualize the finished project. I would pace it out in the backyard, stretch out arms to form the space, but couldn't see it in three dimensions. And at every step of this process I have watched in awe as these competent young men create a structure I will live in. They confidently ripped off the back of the house; they put in footings; they took all sizes of boards and nails and metal and made something real...big, and heavy and real. I stand amazed.
        In the midst of my limitations, I panicked at times at how this would all get done. I have had to trust their know-how, their experience. They know enough to take it one step at a time, each working within their area of expertise: framers, dry-wallers, insulation experts, plumbers, electricians, painters and landscapers. My job has been to stand back, watch, and learn.
        And isn't that how it is with life? We can't do it all. We want to, but we can't. We have to recognize our own limitations, give the experts their due, and trust them. Too often I want to be in charge, to handle it all and these days, I find the more often I stand back, mouth closed, the more I learn and the more peace I feel.
        And there's the Lord, who CAN do it all. He sees how everything will turn out in all things. He sends help along the way when I am out of my element. He sends "experts" to teach me in life and at times, to do it for me. All I need to do is trust. He knows what it will all look like. He is trustworthy in all things. He sees in multi dimensions, knows my limits and loves me fully.

Psalms 9:10
Those who know your name will trust in you,
for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.