WHO INSPIRES ME?

For 66 years one woman has been my inspiration. She was strong. She was a hard worker. She loved fiercely. She was ambitious. She was creative. She could create something out of nothing. She was a healer. She was a reader. She was a doer. She was not perfect. She sometimes had a sharp tongue. She was my mother.

I have had others throughout my life who I have admired. CORRIE TEN BOOM is one. Cornelia “Corrie” ten Boom was a Dutch watchmaker who, along with her family, harbored hundreds of Jews amid the Nazi Holocaust to protect them from arrest during World War II. It’s believed their efforts saved nearly 800 lives. Eventually betrayed by a fellow Dutch citizen, the entire family was imprisoned. However, Corrie survived and told her story in an autobiographical 1971 memoir The Hiding Place. Having grown up in a Christian family, ten Boom also started a worldwide ministry and traveled around the world as a public speaker. She died in April 1983 on her 91st birthday. I read the Hiding Place when I was in college and remember being amazed and humbled by her faith and strength. She tells the story of being imprisoned in a nazi prison camp, along with her sister and other women. Many women were raped and beaten by the guards but none in their bunk house were. Why? Corrie prayed for protection over these women and the answer to her prayer was evident! The women became infested with fleas and lice. None of the guards wanted to “catch” these bugs so left the bunkhouse of women alone. I only wonder if I could have been so brave? I consider whether my prayers would have been so bold? When we visited the Netherlands a few years ago I had hoped to visit her childhood home but it didn’t work out.

I am also inspired by the life of ERIC LIDDELL. The son of Scottish missionaries, Eric was born in China. His family returned to Scotland when he was five years old. Eric was a gifted athlete and he excelled at rugby as well as running. He gained national recognition by winning the 100- and 200-metre runs at the Amateur Athletic Association championships in 1923. At the 1924 Olympics, Liddell, a devout Christian, dropped out of the 100-metre run—his strongest event—because the final was scheduled for a Sunday. Instead, he trained for the 200- and 400-metre runs. At the Games, he finished third in the 200-metre run and turned in a remarkable performance to win the 400 metres. A year after the Olympic Games, Liddell returned to China to do missionary work with his father. He died of a brain tumour while interred in a Japanese camp during World War II, five months before it was liberated. I have long admired his convictions to keep the Sabbath a holy day. I have long admired his commitment to training and honing the craft of running - fast. When we visited Scotland a few years ago - I ran on the same beach Eric ran on - almost 100 years before me.

Now, back to my very best inspiration.

My Mom (Alice Lula Fetterly) was born on July 10, 1920. Her father came back from the first world war in 1918 and her parents were married the next year. After my mom’s birth in 1920, my aunt was born in 1921. My grandmother died the next year at the age of 24. My mom said she had the scrap of paper for many, many years, where her father signed over his children to their grandparents to be adopted. I’m often amazed and so thankful that my maternal grandparents stepped in to raise those two babies. My great grandparents gave up their years of “empty nesters” when my grandfather wasn’t able to care for his own children.

My parents went to the same church growing up - First Baptist church - Cornwall. My father took an interest in my mom when she was just 12 and he, 16. (I think he thought she was older because she was already in high school). When Mom was 14 and Dad, 18, he asked her to the movies. My mom said that even though she had seen the movie in the afternoon with a girlfriend, she begged her mother to go with Dad. From then on they had a date every Friday night.

Dad and Mom married on August 27, 1938. My parents were married for almost 69 years. That inspires me. Mom taught me that marriage was for keeps - through thick and thin. Mom told us to choose our spouse wisely - that it would be for a long time. She loved the mates of her children too. She loved Randy and was devastated for me when he passed away. Her pain was evident to me. Mom grieved for me and my boys and their families. Mom was so happy when I told her I had met someone and that we would be getting married. She gave us her blessing and told us that she could now die in peace. She told me that ever since Randy had passed away she had been praying for a new husband for me so I wouldn’t grow old alone.

Dad and Mom had 9 children in 18 years - 5 sons and 4 daughters. Mom cooked and baked and cleaned and sewed and washed and dried and folded and vacuumed and countless other household chores for all those years. I can’t imagine making meals for 11 people - day after day - year after year. Mom was creative and I’ve long admired her organized preparations and desired to be like her. I have so many of her recipes and some even in her handwriting.

Saturdays were her baking days and on those days - she would fill the cookie cans and bake bread for the week - to feed her large family. My own love for baking began when I was a little girl. Mom taught me to measure and mix and use the oven and from the time I was 8 or 9, I took over a lot of the Saturday morning baking. (Of course, many of my older brothers and sisters had already moved out of the house and were on their own.)

When Mom lived with Harv and I before she died - she would often ask “what day is today?” Whatever day of the week it was, she would recall her daily schedule as a young mom on Elm Street. On Monday Mom would say - “wash day”. Tuesday was “ironing day”. Wednesday was “dusting day”. Thursday was vacuuming and washing the floors. Friday was “shopping”. Saturday was “baking” and Sunday was “church day!” Many nights Mom would sew and mend long after us kids were in bed. “Grass didn’t grow under her feet”, she’d say.

I learned the fine art of caring for my family and home from my Mom.

My Mom was a nurturer to many in our community as well. For many years she drove people to their cancer treatments in Ottawa and Kingston. She volunteered for many groups at the church. For a very long time she led the “mission circle” group and kept in contact with missionaries from all over the world. Mom taught the kindergarten Sunday School class for as long as I can remember. She also sang in the church choir. She kept a beautiful perennial garden that was the talk of the neighbourhood!!!

Most of all - she loved Dad and us kids. We all knew it. It was her love for us that was the cement in our family.

Oscar Wilde said - “to live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people just exist!”

Mom lived her 100 years to the fullest. Her name never made the top 100 most beautiful women in the world. She never won a gold medal at the Olympics. She was not known by any prime ministers or presidents. She never even went to college. She wasn’t a CEO of a major company. She was ordinary. She was extraordinary.

Mom is my inspiration and every day I long to be like her.

WHAT WOULD YOU SAVE IF YOUR HOUSE WAS ON FIRE?

Well, I must say this question has been on my mind all week and I’ve given it much thought and contemplation.

I remember when I was a little girl - probably 4 or 5 - that there was a fire in our neighbourhood - it was Christmas Eve. My parents told us the family escaped only wearing their pyjamas. All their possessions were burned. I remember my parents asking us kids to share our new toys with the family. I remember my mom going through my dresser drawer and closet, gathering clothes to give to the little girl who was about my age. I hope I was kind to share my new toys and gifts with that little girl. I hope I wasn’t grumpy and mean.

I also remember early in our ministry in Orillia when Randy was a young, inexperienced pastor and he was asked to officiate at the funeral of two little children. They died of smoke inhalation in a house fire. I remember looking at those two little coffins and two perfect little bodies - looking like they were asleep. There was not a mark on them. There were no signs of trauma. What do you say to parents who experience such devastation and loss. What words bring comfort? I don’t even remember what Randy said at their funerals. I wept silent tears for that family. I wept as I tucked my own little boys in their beds that night and for several nights after that.

As I think about this answer - my obvious thought - would be to make sure any living creatures under my roof - whether man or beast - get out safely. That’s it.

If it’s just me and I have two minutes (because the fire department says that’s all the time you have) - I wondered how long two minutes was. I sat with my timer and two minutes seemed to tick by very slowly just waiting for it to be done. It also seems a long time when holding a squat. It also seems long when you are waiting for a phone call. It doesn’t seem long if you are running through a burning house.

I thought I might grab my photo albums. But how do I grab 15 albums and carry them up the stairs? Which of those albums are the most important? It occurred to me that those photos are imprinted on my brain and in my heart. I can tell you exactly what each of my babies looked like the moment I laid my eyes on them. I feel their newborn fuzzy heads as if it was yesterday. I know their facial expressions - what brought joy to their wee hearts and what broke them. I see them on that first day of kindergarten - tentatively letting go of my hand and putting it in the hand of their teacher. I see them on the basketball court, the volleyball court, the football field, the rugby pitch, the tennis court. I see them leading their charges at summer camp. I see them leading worship at church. My heart carries the conversations about future wives. I recall each of their wedding days - standing tall and proud at the front - with their brothers as witnesses - and their dad as officiant - gazing with love at their brides - dressed in the finest of gowns! I know the moment I met each of my grandchildren - it’s all in my heart. It’s all in my mind. So - no - I wouldn’t grab the photo albums.

Would I grab my wallet? Not a chance.

Would I grab my phone? Not even that!

Here it is. If I had time - I would grab my Bible - I would try to get all 5 or 6 of the bibles I’ve used in my life. When I was a teenager, my sister gave me the “new, living translation”. I used that Bible all through my teen years. Tali has it now. When I was at Ontario Bible College - I used the New American Standard version. It has so many notes written on the edges. Quotes from my professors. My Bibles lasted about ten years before they fell apart and I would get a new one. Each decade of underlined verses - of promises written by the prophets of old - promises that I put into practice. Some of the pages with tear drop stains on them as I poured my heart out to the Father who loves me. Some pages with names written beside certain verses as I trusted God to answer prayers for loved ones. I love God’s Word. It’s been my guidance since I was 8 years old. I promised my Sunday School teacher that I would read a little bit each day of my life. I have missed a few days I know, but it’s a promise I’ve tried to keep.

What would you grab?

JOURNEY

This coming summer I’m anticipating walking part of the Camino de Santiago Trail (the Way of Saint James) in Spain with my sons. It will be an epic journey for me. I will carry on my back all my belongings that I will need for the time we are on the trail. I will sleep in an Albergue each night with my sons and strangers. I will walk twenty or twenty-five kms each day for close to a week. (The whole trail would be amazing to conquer but we only have a week or a little more). I will eat different food. I will meet people from all over the world, each walking the Camino, for their own reasons.

Mystery and legend surround the Camino. According to the pilgrimage’s official history, the body of James is buried in Santiago’s cathedral. His body was discovered buried in a field in Galicia by a shepherd in the 9th century and then ordered to be transported to Santiago by King Alfonso. Since that time millions have walked The Way.

It’s long been something I’ve wanted to do.

For too long I’ve noticed how people rush to get to their destinations rather than enjoying their journey. When children are young, they can’t wait to be teenagers. The cycle continues with the desire to get away from under the care and protection of parents and go to university. Then they can’t wait to finish university, get a job, find a spouse, have children, raise those kids and get to retirement so they travel and live a life of leisure. Meanwhile forty or fifty years pass by in a flash and they have missed life.

I think of the epic journey that my grandfather Castle took as a young man - crossing the Atlantic at the turn of the century - coming to a new country - probably penniless - getting a job eventually on the CN/CP railway and cooking for the train crew.

I think of Harvey’s parents coming to Canada in the early 50’s from the Netherlands, only a month or two after they were married - his mom leaving her family behind - travelling with her new husband - and settling on a farm east of Toronto - to work as kitchen and farm help.

Those were incredible and brave decisions.

Pete and Heather gave me a sweet gift for Christmas. It’s called Storyworth. Each week a question will arrive and I will answer it. At the end of the year, 52 individual stories will be written and a book will be the result. The first question has a lot to do with journeys - WHAT’S A SMALL DECISION YOU MADE THAT ENDED UP HAVING A HUGE IMPACT ON YOUR LIFE? Here is my answer.

The year was 1976! I was working at Zeller’s in the card department - sorting cards - putting them on the shelves - finding envelopes that had gone astray, helping someone choose just the right card for a certain person and a certain situation.

Before I tell you the small decision that changed my life - I must go back to Thanksgiving of 1975. Every Thanksgiving the youth in our church association would have a conference/retreat and we would meet for the weekend. I was on the planning committee in 1975 and the event would be at my home church, First Baptist Church, Cornwall, Ontario. As everyone registered for the event, host families would be given names of those who would bunk at their homes for the weekend. The weekend involved worship, Bible teaching, sports, food, games, basically, all the things high schoolers liked to do.

The worship leader and Bible teacher for the weekend was the youth pastor from the Brockville Baptist church. He was supposed to stay at our house - boys downstairs in the rec room and girls upstairs in the living room. At the last moment another girl in our youth group asked for the youth pastor to stay at her house. No problem.

I met the speaker on the Friday afternoon - under a basketball hoop. There are two different versions to the story. If you were to ask him he would have said - “I stole the ball and dribbled down the court and did an amazing dunk! The crowd went wild!” If you were to ask me, I would have said, “This guy grabbed the ball from me, dribbled down the court and missed an easy lay-up!”

The weekend was amazing! The youth pastor did an amazing job at leading the worship and speaking the Word. All too soon, it was over and everyone headed home.

Fast forward two months until Christmas. The youth Christmas banquet was planned for a Saturday night in December. It was the opportunity for all the girls to get dressed up - the boys to wear their suits - enjoy a wonderful meal - sing Christmas songs and carols and listen to speaker. You guessed it. The speaker was the youth pastor from the Brockville Baptist church.

Moving on to a Wednesday night in late January. I was at home doing homework, after playing volleyball after school, working for a few hours at Zellers and then home. Grampa and Gramma Castle came in the door from Prayer meeting at the church and the first words out of their mouths was “there was a nice young man at prayer meeting - it would have been nice if you had come too!” I’m sure you already know who it was! Exactly. The youth pastor from the Brockville Baptist church had moved to Cornwall and was boarding at one of the widows in our church.

Somehow that youth pastor managed to arrive at our house on Saturday nights, shortly before 7 pm - to watch the Leafs and eat snacks with my parents and myself. He did this for several weeks.

On a Tuesday night in late February, I was working at Zeller’s and this young man showed up - in the card department!! He asked me, (after humming and hawing a bit) to go out for dinner Friday night.

Here it is! The small decision that changed my life.

I said, “I’M WORKING FRIDAY BUT CAN GO ON THURSDAY!”

There you have it. It was our first date - Pete - your dad and I. We went to The Hayloft in Ottawa! It was a magical evening. Over the next several months we spent countless hours together - watching the Leafs - hanging out with Grampa and Gramma - playing board games - going out for coffee and meals.

On a sunny Saturday in June, Randy and I were visiting my Gramma at the nursing home where she was living. She asked me this question - “Is this your young man?” (Randy hadn’t asked me to “go steady” yet). So I said to him - “are you my young man”? He said he was and that’s when our relationship moved to the next level.

We dated for almost three years and were married June 2nd, 1979.

There have been countless journeys since those days in 1975/76, some epic, most ordinary. Through all those journeys - I have stayed close to my journey Handbook.

These are road maps I’ve used in my journey.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make straight your paths.”

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil….for You are with me, Your rod and staff, they comfort me.”

“Your Word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”

I’m walking the Camino this summer to commemorate my 65th birthday - the 40th birthdays of my three sons (Pete’s turning 40 in August) and to mark the tenth anniversary of Randy’s Homegoing. It will be epic. It will be meaningful. It will be a blessing to spend those hours with my adult sons. You can be sure I will enjoy every step of The Way.

HE HAD ME AT THE SNOW TIRES

Eight years ago I met Harv, my second husband, for the first time. face to face, in a coffee shop, halfway between our two homes. Eight years ago, we sat, drinking coffee, twirling our serviettes, nervously, then more easily, sharing the stories of our lives.

Both Harv and I were married when we were in our early twenties. Both of us were happily married for 35 years (me) and 34 years (Harv) - both of us lost our spouse suddenly - both of us entered into widowhood/widowerhood earlier than we ever imagined - both of us had children and grandchildren - both of us loved the Leafs and Blue Jays and Raptors - both of us liked to golf (Harv - way more than me at the time) - both of us loved good food (maybe me more than Harv - Harv kept Boston Pizza going while he was alone) - both of us on the same page spiritually - both of us not ever thinking that God would have a second spouse for us to enjoy the second half of life with.

Harv and I met each other through friends in Kincardine. Their daughter was my neighbour in Everett and in late September of that year - my friend came over to my house and announced that her parents had someone I should meet.

“I’m not getting married again!” (me)

“Just have coffee!” (her)

“Here is the email of a lady you should meet!” (friends to Harv)

“Not interested!” (Harv)

Regardless of us both thinking we were not interested, the emails began to go back and forth between Kincardine and Everett in early October. It was like the movie “You’ve Got Mail!” I would send an email and eagerly await the ding of my computer to alert me that Harv had answered. He would do the same. We wrote about the weather, children, grandchildren, our faith and the like. Later in the month I asked Harv if he’d like to meet for coffee.

And so it began. That coffee meeting stretched into two hours. Harv says it was the hug and quick kiss on the cheek that grabbed his attention. For me, it was Harv’s sweet nervousness but attentiveness to my words that initially caught my attention and as I said to my bestie when I phoned her “he’s pretty easy on the eyes!”

Unbeknownst to me - my mom (who was 95 at the time) had been praying that I would meet a man who would become my second husband. My parents were married for 69 years - mom’s heart for me was pained and grieved when Randy died so suddenly and I was left a widow. When I called her several weeks later to say Harv and I were getting married her joy was evident - “now I can die in peace - my baby girl will have a husband to care for and be cared for!” I also didn’t know that my bestie was praying the same prayer. We met weekly for chats and to share prayer requests for each other and she would often say “when you meet someone and get married again!” I would say - “I’m not getting married again!”

Harv and I spent most of November having late night conversations (9 pm - 2 am) - meeting for lunches and suppers - writing endless emails - very quickly we were falling in love.

In mid November I had been in Kitchener visiting my son and his family. I left early Saturday evening for the two hour drive home. The weather was fine when I left but as I drove north - the flurries began - and then a full blown snowstorm was upon me. I was driving my Honda Civic with no snow tires. Somehow I found myself leading a very long line of cars - going ever so slowly. I couldn’t see any of the lines on the road and it was ever so slippery. I was terrified. I played worship music to comfort me. I prayed. I phoned my bestie and she and her husband talked with me and prayed with me. At one point I pulled off the road into a parking lot and cried. After I calmed down, I pulled back on to the highway and proceeded to creep slowly home. About 10 kms further down the road, I came upon that long line of cars smashed into each other - cars everywhere - in the ditches and turned in the wrong direction. I was waved to keep going and eventually I got home.

Later that evening I phoned Harv to tell him of my treacherous journey home and the first words out his mouth were - “On Monday we’re getting snow tires on your car. I don’t want to worry that every time you are on the road, your car will be slip sliding all over the place.” HE HAD ME AT THE SNOW TIRES. Here was a man who cared deeply.

I would learn (and continue to learn) that Harv is a man who is faithful to me, our families and to God. Harv loves deeply and sometimes finds it difficult to express his feelings but when he hears a song that expresses what’s in his heart, he sends it to me. Harv is a provider. It’s in his nature to take care of me. Harv worked hard all his life to care for his family and meet their needs and that continues to this day. Harv is generous and helpful to those in need. Harv forgives easily and doesn’t hold grudges. I would learn that Harv is practical and I am more of a dreamer - these two characteristics sometimes clash and would take some time to jive but jive we did!!!!

We married 6 months after we met. Everything fell into place - my house sold and I moved to Kincardine. Our wedding verse was - Psalm 30:5 “Weeping may tarry for the night but joy comes in the morning.”

We spent the first year doing everything together. There is a Bible verse in the Old Testament book of Deuteronomy - verse 24:5 - that says - “when a man takes a new wife, he shall not go out (to fight) with the army nor be charged with any duty; he shall be free at home for one year and shall bring happiness to his wife whom he has taken.” That’s right! For one full year - we spent pretty much every waking hour together. It was an amazing year and we learned much about each other.

We don’t take it lightly that we were given a second chance at love and marriage. We’re grateful to God for bringing us together at just the right time. We’re grateful for our children and grandchildren. We’re grateful for our friends. We’re grateful for that special couple who saw something in both of us - way back eight years ago - who saw two people on their own - who, given the opportunity to meet, might just might, come together and become a couple. That’s exactly what happened.

GRIEF AND HOPE

Grief comes in many forms. It can present itself with the death of a loved one - with divorce - with disease - with a fractured friendship - with what might have been - with what ifs or should haves.

My first real experience of grief was the death of my beloved grandmother. I grew up with only one grandparent in my life - Grandma Castle - my dad’s mom. My grandfather - Grandpa Castle - passed away when I was a young child and I don’t remember him. My momma’s mother passed away when my mom was only two and her father remarried and moved away, so he wasn’t even present in my mom’s life - let alone - our lives. So Grandma Castle it was. We had one main thing in common - music. We spent a lot of time at the piano, playing and singing together. She loved the great hymns of our faith and we sang them together. She lived life large. I loved that about her. I spent many a lunch time at her apartment when I was in junior high school - she didn’t mince her words with guidance and advice! Grandma had a stroke when I was in grade 8 and moved to a nursing home to be cared for. I visited her regularly and would sing to her until her passing when I was 18.

Almost twenty years later, we would get a phone call very late in the evening - with the news that my brother Tim had passed away in a canoeing accident. He was just 39. I was 36. The news was shocking. My brain couldn’t fathom life without Tim. We had grown up together - a shared childhood of family love and joy.

My Dad passed away at the age of 91 and although his life was long and good - although his death was expected, it came suddenly. My parents had been married for almost 69 years and my mom felt his loss acutely.

A few more years would pass when grief would present itself once again, this time, closer than any previous loss. Randy, my husband of 35 years, collapsed with a heart attack, while out for a run and never regained consciousness, even though the wonderful doctors and nurses worked hard so hard. My sons and I would make the difficult decision to remove life support. I remember the moment Randy’s heart stopped - my legs became as weak as a newborn kitten’s. I remember thinking “these legs that can run 21.2 km can’t even walk across the room!” So much pain. So much heart break. So many tears.

I’ve watched dear friends and family walk through painful divorces. The end of a marriage is different than the death of a loved one but no less painful. Broken promises. Broken vows. Shattered children. Weddings that turned sour. Homes divided - cut in half. So much pain. So much anger. A tremendous amount of bitterness and regret.

I’ve also observed fractured relationships - not marriages - but friendships. Jealousy. Pride. Hurtful words spoken that couldn’t be taken back.

When Randy died suddenly in July of 2014, may daughter-in-law gave me a journal and on the front cover it read - I CAN BE CHANGED BY WHAT HAPPENS TO ME BUT I AM NOT REDUCED BY IT! In ways that I can’t fathom, that statement resonated with me. I would learn in ways that I had not ever experienced before that I could and I would not stay in perpetual grief. I would look to the future - I would Hope. Hope doesn’t mean you forget. Just the opposite.

HOPE - according to the dictionary - means - “a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen - (or) - feeling of trust”.

So we watch and wait. But watching and waiting isn’t passive. While we wait - we live. We live out our calling in our families and in our communities, with friends and in our churches. We repair and restore others. We rebuild and desire to be life givers. We say “I’m sorry” and “I love you”. We live sweeter and more noble. Hope does not rise from the backward glance that life used to good. It rises from looking forward.

Philip Yancy said - “Believe in advance what only makes sense in reverse!” Forever I am grateful that my parents took us to Sunday school, church, youth group etc - where I would learn the great truths of the Bible - where I would memorize Scripture and hymns and songs - where these truths and hymns would be held tight in my mind and heart - where they would remind my very sad heart to hope. I knew that holding tight to these truths took precedence over every other obligation, over every priority, over every commitment or personal need. I knew that if my mind continued to realize these truths I had learned thus far in my life, my heart eventually would feel them too. Had I trusted only my heart, I know the path forward would have been much more prolonged and difficult.

HOPE presents itself in so many hymns and songs and hymns. How fortunate we are to have music and lyrics to encourage us on the path to our futures.! A few of the hymns that spoke life to me…….Jesus is all the world to me - my life - my joy - my all. He is my strength from day to day - without Him I would fall……How oft in the conflict, when pressed by the foe, I have fled to my Refuge and breathed out my woe. How often, when trials like sea billows too, Have I hidden in Thee, O Thou Rock of my soul……In fellowship sweet, I will sit at His feet. Or I’ll walk by His side in the way. What He says I will do, where He sends I will go. Never fear, only trust and obey……Soldiers of Christ arise and put your armour on. Strong in the strength which God supplies through His eternal Son…….Crown Him the Son of God, before the worlds began. And you who tread where He has trod, crown Him the Son of Man. Who every grief has known that wrings the human breast, and takes and bears them for His own, that all in Him may rest. THE WORDS OF THESE GREAT HYMNS CAN AND WILL RESONATE HOPE - WE DON’T HAVE TO CARRY THE PAIN ALL BY OURSELVES.

Several weeks after I was a widow, Maggie (my golden retriever) and I took a road trip and visited family and friends in eastern Ontario. At every stop, tears were shed, the story of Randy’s collapse was told and retold, prayers were whispered, hugs were given, kindness shown, encouragement extended, food offered, HOPE extended by those who loved me and hope received! I wrote this prayer on August 29th - on this trip - just weeks after I was a widow-

“My Lord God. I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. But I believe, even in these days of pain and suffering, I desire to please You and lean into You and draw strength from my family and friends. I pray that I will never do anything apart from that desire. I trust that You are leading me even though I can’t see it clearly yet. I trust You always even though I walk in the shadow of death. I will not fear for You are ever with me and you will never leave me to face my sadness alone. You, Heavenly Father, are my hope and stay.”

I can’t speak personally from having gone through a divorce - but the other things have happened throughout my lifetime so far - illnesses - fractured relationships - what ifs - might haves…..in all those things - faith and trust must be prevalent and pride and anger put to death. When grief presses in - worship there for the season - embrace the difficulty but know that eventually that season of heaviness will pass.

C. S. Lewis in his great series - The Chronicles of Narnia - sums it up best. Various forms of grief will assault us while we live on this earth - but always, always, always cling to the Hope of Glory.

“But, first, remember, remember, remember the signs. Say them to yourself when you wake in the morning and when you lie down at night, and when you wake in the middle of the night. And whatever strange things may happen to you, let nothing turn your mind from following the signs. And secondly, I give you a warning. Here on the mountain I have spoken to you clearly: I will not often do so down in Narnia. Here on the mountain, the air is clear and your mind is clear; as you drop down into Narnia, the air will thicken. Take great care that it does not confuse your mind. And the signs which you have learned here will not look at all as you expect them to look when you meet them there. That is why it is so important to know them by heart and pay no attention to appearances. Remember the signs and believe the signs. Nothing else matters.”

“Courage, dear heart.”

“You are my Refuge and my Shield - Your Word is my source of hope!” Psalm 119:14

TO BE KIND IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN BEING RIGHT

I didn’t coin that phrase but I wish I would have. F. SCOTT FITZGERALD said it this way - “TO BE KIND IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN BEING RIGHT. MANY TIMES, WHAT PEOPLE NEED IS NOT A BRILLIANT MIND THAT SPEAKS, BUT A SPECIAL HEART THAT LISTENS.”

The dictionary definition for kindness is “the quality of being friendly, generous and considerate”. Definitely easier when family and friends are nice to you - not so much when you’ve been slighted, picked on, demeaned, rejected or ignored.

A very long time ago - it seems a lifetime ago - I met the great preacher, Charles Swindoll, on a trip with Randy and the boys to California. Randy and I and our boys went to his church and after the service we made our way down to the front of the auditorium to shake hands with him. We introduced ourselves to him and at that point Pastor Swindoll took my face in his hands and said, “I’m looking for the scars that every pastor’s wives carry! Interesting comment for a young pastor’s wife to hear! At that time I didn’t have any scars - they would come later.

Indeed they did come. Years later we would receive a phone call from our church board to inform us we were fired! Fired from pastoring our church. We were to be let go! Not needed! Not a fit for the new reconfinement of the church. Pack up the office. Don’t talk to any church members. Don’t come to church on Sunday. Leave. You are not welcome here.

Needless to say we were in shock. We cried. We prayed. We clung to each other. It’s too long of a story to go into the details of the weeks that ensued so I’ll get to the best part.

After we tied up a few loose ends in our community we had the opportunity to move to the little village of Westport - in eastern Ontario - where we would live for one year. It was a year of recovery, of growing, of trusting, of waiting, of ministry, of faith and of joy. We moved to Westport in May and each Sunday throughout that spring, we would spend time with our siblings and my Mom. Each week I would eagerly await Sunday, long to hear the Word of God preached and sing the hymns and songs of praise. But each week as the service time drew near, the tears would start. My heart was so broken. We had lost so much. Our church. Our friends. Our ministry. Our home. Our reputation.

One Sunday we were in Kingston and my sweet young niece who was about 4 at the time said to me - “Auntie, I will ask Jesus to make your heart happy again”. God answered that little girl’s prayer one week later.

The next Sunday found us in Brockville at my brother’s church - The Pier. It was at the Pier where God healed my heart and gave me freedom from seeking revenge on those who had hurt us. My sister-in-law stood with me during the worship - holding my hand - while the tears continued to flow down my cheeks. During that time of singing, the pastor called any of us who needed to be prayed over to come to the front. I practically ran. There were many who prayed over us that day and I know that’s when my heart was freed from the bitterness and the gall and the angst and the desire for revenge against those who had hurt us.

Freedom!

There is a Proverb that says “Out of the heart, the mouth speaks.” What is in our heart eventually - all the time - comes out. When we cultivate love, joy, peace, patience, forgiveness etc. in our hearts - those characteristics will come out. Contrarily, if we cultivate hate, bitterness, pride, unforgiveness, etc. - that’s what we’ll blurt out. That means thinking before speaking - not rushing before ripping off a text - taking the time before grabbing the phone to give whoever a piece of your mind - that means forgiving before seeking revenge - that means thinking long term relationships rather than short term pride.

Here are some words that are synonyms for kindness!

Benevolence - Compassion - Courtesy - Gentleness - Grace - Helpfulness - Hospitality - Neighbourly - Sweetness - Sympathy - Tenderness - Thoughtfulness - Understanding - Unselfishness!

I recognize that Fitzgerald’s quote is counter cultural. Our culture is all about being right no matter what. It’s all about - whatever you do to me, I’m going to give it right back to you. It’s all about - if you cut me off in traffic, I’m going to lay on my horn and let you know exactly what I think of you. It’s all about appeasing ourselves - if we can hurt the ones who hurt us - well we’ll come out on top.

Another way to say counter-cultural is “upside down Kingdom” - a kingdom where those who are the greatest are the ones who lower themselves to serve. A kingdom where weakness is strength - where dependance on God is power - where all of us - the religious, the cheats, the liars and the righteous are equally dependent on God’s grace.

Jesus said that anger is like murder. Anger (malice that is nursed inwardly) makes people destroyers instead of builders. Anger robs us of our freedom and makes us prisoners.

Jesus said “don’t retaliate”. He told us to give to our offender by serving them - to shock others with generosity and grace. He told us to confound the world with God’s incredible and gracious love shown through you.

Jesus said to “love your enemies”. Christian love is an act of the will. Jesus never asks us to do something He has not done first. In His kingdom, self-interest does not rule. He isn’t so much concerned about being fair - (life isn’t fair) than for us to live up to our commitment of being different from our culture.

Kindness encompasses these teachings.

So what if you’re right but you’ve hurt anybody who was in your way!

Read that again.

People won’t remember that you were right - only that you were unkind.

Now - here’s the rest of the story - from the time we were fired! We moved to Westport - lived there for a year - we were called to a church in Alliston, who loved on us - Randy was pastor for four memorable years there. In 2014 - Randy collapsed while running and never recovered. He passed away 7 days after his heart attack.

That summer I wrote these words -

“God is not as much concerned about our plans as He is our hearts. He doesn’t ask - ‘do you want to go through the loss of a loved one, this difficulty or this defeat?’ No - He allows these things for His own purpose. The things we go through either make us sweeter, better and nobler men and women or they make us more critical and fault-finding and more insistent on our own way. The things that happen either make us hate more or love Christ more. I know God is working according to His own wisdom, accomplishing what is best for me. When I understand God’s purpose, I will not become small minded and cynical.”

Each day - sometimes many times during the day - I’m reminded that - indeed - it is better to be kind than to be right.

Right?

ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS!

LAKE HURON SUMMER.

Endless beach days! Sand castles! Laughter! Finding that special piece of beach glass! Body surfing! S’mores! Ice cream cones! Go-karting! Mini golf! Rainy day monopoly games! Croquet on the lawn! Hot tubbing when it’s dark! Hot tubbing when the lake is freezing! Hungry kids - all day long! Reading one more chapter before the lights are turned off! Late nights! Sleeping in! Camp fires! Snacks!

But suddenly it’s LABOUR DAY!

School begins tomorrow for most students - whether they are four or fourteen or forty. Some are heading to kindergarten - some to junior high school - some to high school and some to college.

New beginnings for parents and kids.

I remember when Pete (our last to leave the nest) was leaving for his first year at Queen’s university in Kingston. That Labour Day Saturday morning - the van was packed full - friends and family gathered to say their good byes - and Randy and Pete were almost ready to go (no room for Mom). Pete put his arms around me to hug good bye and he said “are you okay - Mom?” I quickly said - “yes” and then burst into tears and sobbed - “No! No, I’m not okay!”

Oh, how I loved the years of elementary and high school when our boys were home. How I missed them when they left.

This week - the empty halls of the schools my grandchildren will attend - will fill up - with boys and girls who are excited, joyful, fearful, timid, shy, hungry, full, talented, kind, mischievous, gentle, late, early, rule followers, rule breakers, patient, good, faithful and so much more.

Every September brings the opportunity to begin again - a redo - or the opportunity to start something completely new. As the grandkids begin this new season - here are my wishes and prayers for them.

#1. BE WISE AND DISCERNING

I love the book of Proverbs - written by King Solomon. He said things like - “Above all and before all, do this: get wisdom. write this at the top of your list. Throw your arms around wisdom - never let it go - wisdom will make your life glorious.

Don’t hang out with angry people - don’t keep company of hotheads - bad temper is contagious, don’t get infected.

Listen with respect to the father who is raising you. Make your mother proud by being quick to obey.

Don’t ever lie. Keep your word.

Fools are headstrong and do what they like. Wise people take advice.

But because my grandchildren are young - I realize their childishness will sometimes - maybe often - interfere with them being wise and discerning. So - each morning - my alarm buzzes at 8:15 and I am reminded to pray for them - by name - as they head out the door to walk to their schools. I pray on their behalf that during the day they will have understanding in class and on the playground. I pray that they will be kept from doing foolish things so they don’t have to suffer the consequences that await the fool. I pray they’ll be wise to discern what is clean and what is not, what is truth and what are lies, what is real and what is false. I pray they’ll determine the true character of the people around them.

Wisdom is more valuable than all the greatest treasure on earth, because it brings a long, pleasant, peaceful and happy life.

#2. CHOOSE YOUR WORDS CAREFULLY

A long time ago I made “mother’s memories for my son” books for my boys and gave them to them when they turned 21. There was one page dedicated to the Dad to write his thoughts down! Randy’s words to Pete went like this - Petey - “the Rock”. We knew as soon as we saw you this was your name. What a name to live up to! You’ve always been such a happy, well adjusted, easy going guy. I’m pretty sure we didn’t need to raise you - you were so amazing. Remember the times we went to Mr. C’s in Listowel while your brothers were in School? We had coffee and donuts and you played PacMan. How much I have enjoyed watching your athletic career. Basketball, volleyball, rugby, football - you did it all. I still feel bad the time you broke your arm in football. I was very sure it wasn’t broken - but it was - oops - sorry about that. To this day you never complain or say a bad word about anyone. You are amazing! You’ve learned guitar and that’s a special joy to see. You will make the most amazing husband and dad one day. What a joy you are to Mom and I and how we thank God that we’re your mom and dad. We are truly blessed. “Be strong in the Lord. Eph 6:10. What an amazing thing to do - run a triathlon with me. Thanks. Love you always, Dad”

Do you not agree that every time Pete reads these words, he is affirmed and so desires to live up to his father’s pondering!

I remember the scene from the stage production “Anne of Green Gables” when Anne’s beloved Matthew dies. Anne was heartbroken. She knew how much Matthew cared for her. She knew from that first moment when Matthew picked her up from the train station, that even though, they had asked for a boy, and the orphanage sent a girl, she was loved by Matthew. It was Matthew who bought the dress with puffed sleeves. It was Matthew who helped Anne make her famous apology to Mrs. Lynde. Matthew and Anne said the important things to each other. Sadly, it was Marilla, who couldn't communicate her love for either Matthew or Anne. In the song “The Words” from the musical, Marilla sings her regrets that she never told Matthew how she felt about him. Her own brother. She had opportunities but never told him. Lost opportunities. Too late.

Your words have the power to build up or tear down. Use your words to speak grace and love.

Pleasant words are like a honeycomb, sweet and delightful to the soul and healing to the body. Each and every day - the words we speak will either bring life or death. Even in hard conversations our words can be spoken kindly. Choose to speak life.

#3 DO THE HARD THINGS

A few years ago I joined a cross-fit gym. I love the challenge of lifting heavier, rowing longer, pushing harder. Last week I accomplished something I’ve never done before. I climbed the rope and my fingers brushed the ceiling. I never thought in one hundred years that I’d ever be able to do such a thing. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done physically.

My grandchildren will more than likely face some hard things this year. My advice for them is - “get ‘er done!”

Practicing a new piano piece - regularly - daily - be ready for your next lesson.

Consistency in your school work. Work hard in the classroom. Play after school.

Get your chores done first. Don’t procrastinate. Play later.

Always be kind - especially to the ones who don’t deserve it. Nobody likes a meanie.

Don’t be a quitter. When you begin a project, finish it.

Realize that life isn’t fair. There will always be someone smarter, or faster. Don’t compare yourself to others. Don’t compare your life to others. Don’t whine.

Practice gratitude. (You’d think this is the easiest thing in the world)! Learn to rejoice in the simple things in life. Learn to be thankful. Learn to be grateful. Learn to thank God for all the gifts He has given you. Thank your parents. Thank your teachers.

And so begins fall for me too. I am doing a new thing! I’ve signed up for voice lessons! I’ll be even more ready for the 1st soprano parts in Handel’s Messiah when rehearsals begin in late October. I’ll continue visiting my kids and grandkids - my siblings and friends! I’ll go the gym, play pickle ball, and cook yummy meals!

As the long, hot summer days turn - just like the maple leaves will turn from green to red - I’m ready to embrace all that lies ahead.

TO MY SWEET GRANDS - SUMMER DAYS ARE A MEMORY NOW AND ALL THAT FALL HOLDS IS IN FRONT OF YOU.

Don’t be afraid - dear ones.

Don’t be intimidated - little ones.

Embrace all that is in front of you and you’ll come out stronger.

You know it - I love you with all my heart.

STRONG BACKS

I find myself with some time on my hands - unexpectantly. My days are generally filled with activities I enjoy doing now that I am in the “older” years. An ordinary cold and cough decided to move south into my lungs and after a visit to the doctor, he diagnosed me with pneumonia. No wonder I felt like a truck was sitting on my chest for the past few days. No wonder I can hardly walk upstairs without gasping for air. He said - “take the antibiotics and rest!” Taking the antibiotics is not a problem for me - resting doesn’t come as easily. But I have put everything on hold to do just that. Rest and let the antibiotics rid my lungs of the nasties that have taken residence there in the past few days.

During this imposed rest period I decided to watch one of my favourite tv families (from the last few years) - the Pearsons - from This Is Us - Jack and Rebecca are the parents - Kevin, Kate and Randall - are the kids - triplets.

Season 1. Episode 1. I started right at the beginning.

Jack and Rebecca had their kids just about the same time we did. Early 80’s. I relate to this family, and although, I didn’t have triplets, I had my boys in very close succession. It felt like triplets. (I digress.) Rebecca was expecting triplets - Kevin was born first and then Kate. Sadly their 3rd little guy (Kyle) died during the birth. I wept along with Rebecca when Jack told her one of their babies had died. But, only in Hollywood - on the same day that the triplets were born - does a father drop off his child at a fire station because he can’t care for his newborn son and the fire station captain then drops that baby off at the same hospital where Rebecca has just given birth and that little baby becomes their son. (Did you catch all that!)

So I’m binging on this series while I rest. During one of the episodes - while watching - it came to me once again - how parents no matter their age - carry the joys and griefs of their kids on their backs. It happened this way!

Randall is the adopted son and he is black. Around the age of 9 he asks Jack and Rebecca about his birth parents. He is desperate to identify with someone who looks like him. Jack signs Randall up for a Judo class where the instructor and all the kids are black. Many of the other children’s fathers are at the class. Because it is Randall’s first class the instructor asks Jack to lie on the floor in a push up position. He asks Randall to climb on his dad’s back and for Jack to begin doing push ups. The instructor asks Jack as he pushes up and down, with sweat dripping off his forehead, with Randall on his back, if he is prepared to carry the burdens and joys, the heartbreaks and heartaches, the blessings and successes - of his son throughout his life? Is Jack’s back strong enough to do this - he asks again? “YES - SAYS JACK. YES - I WILL.” At that point, the instructor says to Jack that he can stop. Jack says ‘I WON’T EVER STOP!”

Okay - you know at this point, I’m crying my eyes out. Because it’s true. From the moment, the doctor places our sweet babies in our arms, we consciously or unconsciously decide that we will carry our kids - take a bullet for them, no matter what. Sometimes our backs carry tremendous sadness and we are hunched over in incredible pain for them and with them - and at other times, our backs stand straight and tall - our shoulders are squared with tremendous joy with the accomplishments achieved by our kids.

When our boys were little, we lived about a 5 hour drive away from my parent’s house. We often left after supper/work and arrived late - long after the boys had fallen asleep in the car. When we arrived - no matter the season of the year - Randy would carry the boys - one by one - into Mom and Dad’s - into their warm beds at the Lake - most times - they didn’t even stir. They knew they were in the strong arms of their dad. They felt safe, loved and cared for.

There was a time when one of our sons developed severe asthma. He was so little and when the grip of that horrible condition grabbed hold of him, it was heartbreaking. He spent many days in the hospital and never complained. He learned to live with his lungs compromised. I remember one particular winter day (before we were given the name of a wonderful specialist who helped us to better care for our son) when the school bus arrived to drop the boys off after their day at school. I could tell that our son was struggling with his breathing. His lips were tinged with blue. His breathing was rapid and ragged. My heart was broken for him. There was no way that he could trudge through the snow to walk the three or four blocks home. I pulled him on my back and carried him home. Yes, it was difficult. Yes, it was even painful. But it’s what we do. We carry our kids - sometimes literally on our backs.

When our boys had the odd bout of bronchitis or croup - a tradition began. In the old days when your kids had one of these things - you ran the shower hot - shut the bathroom door and let the steam work its way into their lungs. Then you bundled them up and took them outside into the chill, cold air where once again you prayed their air waves would open up and they could breathe properly. Many times Randy carried our boys or pulled them in a toboggan around the block on a cold, January night. Thus, the tradition of “hunting for the snow leopard” began. Randy would tell them the story of the snow leopard and it would take their mind off their coughing. To this day, the legend of the snow leopard lives on in our family.

As the teen years rolled around into early adulthood - we carried our boys in different ways - bearing their burdens - of a relationship that had ended - of waiting to hear news of acceptances into university and the disappointments that came with a small, white envelope instead of the big, brown package - of sports teams that lost championships - of grandparents dying of cancer and heart disease and one grandparent getting dementia and forgetting who their family are.

But also - carrying their joys and accomplishments - of them meeting their future life partners - of their choice of jobs - of their wedding days - of the births of their children. We shared these great accomplishments with them.

It seemed easier back then to carry the kids.

OR MAYBE, NOW IT’S NOT HARDER, JUST DIFFERENT.

THIS IS HOW I SEE THINGS NOW………….

It’s being available to be their loudest cheerleader.

It’s having the grandkids over for a night or two to give the parents time to regroup.

It’s sending a care package in the mail.

It’s driving 14 hours to run an 11 minute - 2 km race with the grandchildren.

It’s popping a card in the mail.

It’s crying when disappointment comes.

It’s taking their burdens and heartaches to the Lord on their behalf.

It’s cooking and baking and having everyone’s favourite food available.

It’s dropping a gift in their bank account for a date night.

It’s listening.

It’s hugging and not being the first one to let go.

It’s being available to drop and go!

It’s those things and a whole lot more. But for now - that’s how I see it.

Maybe - just maybe - that’s how we can continue to use our strong backs to bless our families and love on them.

AND JACK - I loved your pushups with Randall on your back.

THOUGHTS ON TURNING 65!

Last week I turned 65. Apparently I’m eligible for “old age security”. I get discounts at restaurants and stores and museums and even on some airlines. Children think 65 is pretty ancient. Forty year olds are checking out senior’s homes for their parents (not saying my children are doing that!) +55 communities are springing up all over the country…..2 bedroom bungalows…..no basement…..toilets that are high off the ground because old people can’t squat….cards on Monday and Wednesdays…..sewing circle on Tuesday and Thursdays…..crokinole on Friday nights…….hair appointment on Saturday morning!

NOT YET!

All of this got me thinking about my life - where I’ve been and where I’m going. Allow me to ramble.

The first 30! (1958-1990) - (and a bit) of my life were wonderful.

I was born into an incredible family - a close family - 9 siblings - 2 amazing parents that ran a pretty tight ship. My childhood was idyllic, really. I had siblings to play with - street hockey, sand lot baseball, touch football in someone’s backyard. We attended church as a family and our faith was very important to us. I sang in the church choir - first the children’s choir and then the adult one. I played sports all through junior high school and high school. I played in the band. I participated in musicals. I worked at a summer camp near Beaverton, called Fair Havens.

I met my husband, Randy, during my grade 13 year. We attended Tyndale Bible College together and got married between our 3rd and 4th years. We began our pastoral ministry in the local church in 1980 and had three babies, 1982, 1983, 1984. Life was amazing in those dizzying years of toddlers and ministry. It was all I could have hoped for.

The second 30! (1990 - 2023) - (and a bit) were equally wonderful but also heartbreaking.

We spent idyllic weeks at my parent’s cottage from 1984 -1999 in Westport, Ontario. Hot summer days were spent jumping off the rocks, swimming across the lake, canoeing around the lake to spy on turtles sunning themselves on logs, frogging and fishing, hitting golf balls across the lake and then diving for them, hamburgers on Saturday night and chicken on Sunday night, monopoly on rainy days and Gramma’s jam jams, fresh out of the oven. Winter vacations saw us playing hockey on the lake, skating for miles, sledding and hot chocolate.

In 1994, my brother Tim, died. He was 39. Tim and I grew up together. Of all my siblings, we were closest in age. Tim was on a canoeing trip with his eldest son, and tragically their canoe tipped over and as Tim was guiding it through some rapids and rocks, it collapsed around him and pinned him under the water. (They were wearing life jackets!) Our family was shattered by the news of his death. He was young. He was loved. He had a wife and 2 young teenagers. His faith was strong and he is in heaven.

During those years our boys were busy in school with academics and sports and youth group and summers at camp. Elementary school zipped by, high school flew by, as did University. All of a sudden the boys brought that special girl home to meet us who would become their wives, our daughters-in-laws. Weddings took place in 2007, 2008, and 2009. How proud we were of our sons on their wedding days. How excited we were to welcome three lovely girls into our family.

The first Christmas we were empty nesters, the boys planned a special present for me. Early on Christmas Eve morning, Ben and (fiancé) Jen and Pete borrowed my car to do some last minute Christmas shopping. I was busy prepping for our annual Christmas Eve service and drop-in at our house after the service. Jen came into the kitchen and said that the boys said the car was making a strange noise and I should check it out. I was imagining taking the car to be fixed on Christmas Eve afternoon. As I wiped my hands on my apron, I hurried out the front door. Pete opened the door of the car and running towards me was the most perfect ball of yellow fluff - a golden retriever puppy….my Maggie girl. It was love at first sight. How I loved that girl.

My dad was 91 when he went Home to be with the Lord in February of 2007. My parents were married almost 69 years.

Our ministry in the local church during those years was tougher. After our delightful years in Orillia, we had some deep disappointments. We were part of some sobering, lonely, heartbreaking events that almost rocked our world. Leadership in any vocation has its ups and downs and local church ministry is no different. Through this time though, Randy and I stayed true to each other and true to our faith and true to our calling.

Towards the end of the second 30 - the grandchildren came - our greatest joy and delight. Three grandchildren were born in 2011. 2012 and 2013 brought two more grandsons. Imagine, 5 grandchildren! We were so blessed. Our backyard had a play centre and swings and a sandbox. It was fenced in so the kids and the dogs could play without running away. Those were good years.

Heartbreak would come to our family once again in June of 2014. Randy and I were both runners and had run a half marathon in April. We trained together, we ate together, we laughed together, we served together. We were pretty much together all of the time. On Saturday morning, June 28th, Randy was out for a run with a friend and he collapsed, never regaining consciousness. Seven days later, Randy, my husband of 35 years, amazing dad to 3 sons, father-in-law to 3 lovely ladies, a Grampie to 5, a pastor for almost 35 years, went Home to be with his Saviour. His faith was made sight.

I learned to live alone. Well not really alone. I had wonderful friends and family who supported me. I had boarders who lived with me. I had three more grandchildren born in 2015.

I met Harv in late 2015 and we were married the next year. Harv was a widower - alone like me - and we were introduced by friends. Our courtship was pretty short. We both knew the joys of a long first marriage and the loneliness of being alone. How grateful I am for our life together - church and golfing and travelling and pickle ball and family. We are a blessing to each other. We are grateful for second chances.

Two more grandchildren born in 2017 and 2018 and that makes 10 Jolliffe grandchildren.

We all know what happened in 2020…….Covid. Late in the fall of 2020 we brought my mom to Kincardine to live with us. Mom was a fragile centenarian - that’s right - 100 years old. She was experiencing some dementia and that made life interesting. Mom was with us for three months before she passed away in our home to her heavenly Home.

2023!

I’m thinking it’s the last third of my life unless I live to be the age of Methuselah and I don’t think that’s going to happen. I have plans. Are you surprised? I hope not.

I read John Piper’s book a number of years ago - it’s called Don’t Waste Your Life!”

For me - today - it’s - DON’T WASTE THE LAST THIRD!

What does that look like for me? I’ve got plans. I’ve got goals. I want to travel. I want to learn another language. I want to become a 4.0 in pickle ball. I want to cheer loudly at my grandchildren’s hockey games and basketball games and road races and ski races and rock climbing events and music recitals and whatever else they do. I want to dance at the weddings of my grandchildren. I want to see my children grow older and become grandparents themselves. I want to grow old with Harv.

I want those things but I want these more.

I want to love those who don’t love me back. I want to bless those who aren’t very nice. I want to do better at rejoicing with those who are happy and weeping with those who are sad. I want to live in harmony with my neighbours and friends and relatives. I don’t want to repay evil with more evil. I don’t want to wish revenge on anyone. I don’t want to be haughty and rude. I want to always be hopeful - always patient - persistent in prayer. I want to have people in my house for dinner and coffee and fellowship - for them to stay as long as they need to.

My brother, Ted, said to me last week that when he turned 65 - he was done with being angry. It wasn’t worth it to get angry at people, circumstances, events etc. I’ll heed his advice.

Love is patient and kind. Love does not envy or boast. Love is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way, it is not irritable or resentful. It does not rejoice at wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. I want to love better.

So there you go. My ramblings on reaching the age of 65!

FACES IN THE SKY

I remember the night before my mom died. I was lying on the floor beside her bed because we didn’t want her getting up in the night for fear she would fall. (She forgot so quickly that she was so weak she could barely walk - but walk to the bathroom she did - at 100 and a half - just not by herself)!

I was looking out the window and the sky was dark. - not too man stars! It was January 25th, 2021. As I lay there - on the floor - looking out the window - I saw that the sky was filled with faces. Faces of the elderly. Faces of the young. Faces of men. Faces of women. Faces. Hundreds of them. I didn’t recognize anybody specifically but I remember that these faces were smiling.

I was reminded of the verses in the Bible - “therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay side every weight, and sin, which clings so closely, and let us run the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and Perfecter of our faith.”

I imagined my Dad, my grandparents, my brother, my brother-in-law, Randy, Mom’s parents, and countless friends in that great cloud, cheering mom as she crossed over from this life to the next, encouraging her to finish her race with strength and dignity.

In the year, 1776, a poor tinker named John Bunyan was imprisoned in Beford Gaol. While he was there, he began to write one of the most famous books in the English language. Pictures crowded into his mind - quagmires and steep hills, sunny valleys and dark glens, a gloomy castle, a market town with the activity of a fair, a narrow road that leads to the Dark River and finally the Shining Gate that opens to the Celestial City.

Bunyan was forty-seven when he wrote the Pilgrim’s Progress. He used such great names in his book like - Mr. Greatheart, Mr. Faithful, Mr. Hopeful, Lord Hate-good, Evangelist, Obstinate, Pliable, Mr. Worldly Wiseman and so many more.

Bunyan tells the story as if it happened in a dream. It is the story of Christian - leaving the city of destruction heading to the Celestial City. It is the story of Everyman - the journey we all take - from this world to the next.

My own journey to the Celestial City began when I was a young child. My earliest memories are of my parents taking us to our local church - singing in the choir - learning the stories of the Bible - going to youth group - all those things and more. We were a family that embraced our faith - at home - in our church and community.

Like Christian - in the Pilgrim’s Progress - I’ve misplaced my “parchment” a few times and needed to retrace my steps to get it back. I’ve walked up the “hill difficulty” and stumbled and fallen and then been refreshed by fellow travellers. I’ve had more than one fight with the “Fiend - Apollyon” - flames and arrows coming at me with force, fierce battles that left me weakened , yet strengthened. I’ve walked through the valley of the shadow of death. There have been times when I’ve sought to live in Vanity Fair rather than keep my eyes on the Celestial City. I’ve spent some time in “Doubting Castle”. Sometimes I have been tempted to wonder where God is in all of this. The key word is tempted. Then I remember these truths - the same God who engineers our amazing universe knows the number of hairs on my head. The same God who parted the waters of the sea so one million Israelites were saved, knows when one tiny sparrow falls to the ground. Perhaps in the darkness of night I have been tempted to suppose God has overlooked me. He hasn’t.

I’ve read the story of the Pilgrim’s Progress countless times in my life and I’m always overcome when I read the part when Christian enters the dark river.

“Behind him, he could just see, looking back, a shadow in the sky, which marked the place where Doubting Castle stood. But ahead, there was a perfect view of the Celestial City. It’s walls and towers shone in the sun. Then just as he imagined he was safely there, Christian was quite stunned in what he saw. For, between him and the City Gate, flowed a deep, dark River. “You have to go through it. There is no bridge.” It was a fearful moment for Christian couldn’t swim. Yet, after coming all that way, he mustn’t falter now. He stepped into the River trembling and immediately began to sink. He was, more frightened now than he had ever been in the Valley of the Shadow. A great darkness and horror fell upon him. For this was the River of Death. But the troubles a man goes through in these waters are no sign that God has forsaken him. All at once the sun was visible through the mist. Christian felt new strength within himself, the water became less deep, the ground firmer underfoot. He had reached the shore.”

“And”, writes Bunyan in his book, “I was able to look in after him, I saw the streets were paved with gold. And in them walked - with crowns upon their head - the company of just men and women made perfect. And the bells of the City rang for joy. For Christian and his fellows had come to their true home. And after that, they shut the Gates and I awoke. And behold it was a dream.”

Perhaps - mine was a dream too as I gazed out the window and saw those faces in the window - cheering my mom on as she was about to cross her dark river. “Come on Alice - the river is deep - but the glories and wonder on the other side are so wonderful. No more pain. No more sickness! No more dementia! No more cancer! No more frailty! No more tears!”

“The Pilgrim’s Progress” by John Bunyan.

I WAS BORN READY

Indigo Valerie Jolliffe

How we anticipated your arrival. The last of the four siblings. The last of the ten cousins. How we waited with bated breath all through January - past your due date - past sister Adele’s birthday - past Uncle Zac’s birthday - past Grammie’s birthday - past cousin Ian’s birthday - in fact - right past January all together. You made us wait.

Finally on February 1st - you made your appearance. You were finished “cooking” and came into the world with a flourish.

Your name means - deep blue - which signifies a sense of stability and displays trust and loyalty and confidence. Right from the get go - we saw your confidence. You were walking at 11 months. You knew all the names of your family by your first birthday - even lisping out Grammie and Harvey! You do your best to keep up with your big brothers and your big sister. You’ve got grit and spunk. It seems nothing frightens you - you are up for any challenge.

God has given you a sharp mind and spirit and I pray you’ll always use these gifts to honour Him.

Valerie means strong and valiant. Here are some synonyms of your name!

Brave

 Courageous

 Heroic

Lionhearted 

Bold

Fearless

 Daring

 Audacious

Unflinching

Unafraid

Our world needs the kind of girl that portrays these characteristics. Our world needs the kind of woman who wears these characteristics like a queen wears a crown.

Bravery - when the easy thing would be to run away. Courage when the easy thing would be to not follow through. Heroic when the easy thing would be to let others do it. Lionhearted when the easy thing would be to not growl. Bold when the easy thing would be to shrink. Fearless when the easy thing would be cowardly. Daring when the easy thing would be spinelessness. Audacious when the easy thing would be timidity. Unflinching when the easy thing would be unsteadiness. Unafraid when the easy thing would be fear.

I’m reminded of a queen who lived a very long time ago. Her name was Esther and she found herself in a crazy, unique situation. The king of Persia needed a new wife because the old one - Queen Vashti - refused to dance before him and all his drunken noblemen - so he got rid of her! Back to Esther. She was beautiful and a Jewess and she caught the eye of the King and he made her queen. Esther won the favour of everyone who saw her - not just for her beauty but for her bravery and courage. She uncovers a plot and goes to the king to bring his attention to it. He deals with it and destroys the bad guys.. Esther bravely lived in those uncertain times - precisely - to save her people - she became queen at precisely the right time.

Elizabeth Elliot once said -

“Just think - You’re not here by chance but by God’s choosing. HIs hand formed you and made you the person you are. He compares you to no one else - You are one of a kind. You lack nothing that His grace can’t give you. He has allowed you to be here at this time in history to fulfill HIs special purpose - for your generation.”

And so - my brave, born ready, Indy girl - I’ll be cheering you on as long as I live and be watching you do all those great things you were put on this earth to do.

38 YEARS

My youngest son recently celebrated his 38th birthday. NO big deal. Another year under the sun. Twelve more full moons have come and gone since his 37th. Another winter. Another spring. Another summer. Another fall. One season following another, but for some reason this year the memories of his birth day caused me to recall in detail - that day - Pete’s birth day.

It was a Monday. August 20, 1984.

IN those days of yore - moms went to the hospital the day before they had their scheduled C-sections and we stayed for a week. I was going for my yearly week of R&R at the Orillia - Soldiers Memorial Hospital. At home - my nieces, Jane and Karen, were caring for 2 year old Zac, and 1 year old Ben. Randy was helping me settle into my room.

Afterward I would hear from my friends that because their own babes kept them awake half the night - they were praying for the safe delivery of our baby. They told me they were singing hymns and songs over us. They were praying Scripture verses for us. All in preparation for the next day.

My C-section was scheduled early on Monday morning but because of scheduling issues, it was delayed for a couple of hours. Around 10 am - Randy kissed me and said he would see “us” soon (dads didn’t come into the operating room in those days) and I was wheeled upstairs to have our baby. While they were preparing the OR, I was lying outside in the hall, by myself. Waiting. Waiting.

I wasn’t afraid but was feeling a bit lonely. A verse I had reflected on the day before came into my head - Genesis 18:14 “Is anything too hard for the LORD?” The prophet Jeremiah answered this question - “There is nothing too hard for Thee!” I knew God’s power was limitless and His promises are true and secure. That truth softened my heart and I anticipated that our baby would be born so very soon.

I was wheeled into the OR and I remember it being so chilly. (Why do they keep operating rooms so cold?) The doctor who was administering the epidural came in as did the nurse. If you’ve had a C-section with an epidural - you know that you are rolled onto your side, asked to pull your knees up to your chin, keep motionless - and do this with your belly the size a medicine ball!

I was lying on my left side and the only thing I could see on the wall was the clock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Time passing by. The needle was placed into my back! I anticipated what would happen - very shortly the freezing would start in my belly and move down my legs.

It began that way but just as quickly - it also rose up - up - up - to my neck. I was paralyzed from my neck down to the tip of my toes. I opened my mouth to scream for help but no sound came out. My vocal cords were paralyzed as well. Unbeknownst to me - the doctor and nurse had left the operating room and I was alone - paralyzed - seeing the clock - tick tock - tick tock - time marching on.

I panicked.

I was terrified.

I couldn’t breathe.

I knew that if I didn’t get help quickly, I would die and so would my baby.

Memories of my childhood, youth, family, marriage and two sweet toddlers at home flashed into my mind. I saw my life flash across the screen of my life. It went by in a flourish.

And then….the sweet peace of the Lord Jesus came over me as I remembered the verse I had quoted to myself just moments before. “Is there anything too hard for the Lord?” “NO!” I prayed for the Lord to bring someone in the OR to save me and our baby. My brain called out to God for help in my time of really deep trouble.

Because I’m writing this blog - you know the outcome. My doctor, a Christian man from our church, came into the operating room and quickly assessed the situation. He yelled for the team to get in there STAT and I was immediately put on a respirator. (They gave me a general anesthetic as well so I wouldn’t hear what was being said!)

I woke up hours later and I thought the bright light of the Recovery Room was heaven. I was convinced that I had died. Quickly I knew I hadn’t. God had answered my desperate prayers in the OR and soon I would meet my new son and we would be united with Randy and Pete’s big brothers.

An interesting part of this story is the prayers of my family and friends, specifically one of my sisters. She told me later that on that Monday morning at the same time that my epidural had been put into my back and the doctor left the OR she was crying out to God on my behalf. She said she had no other words except - “God help her, Martha needs your help.” She said she prayed those words over and over again until the feeling of urgency had passed. Amazing that she was prompted to pray in that vein at that time. Other family members said because they hadn’t heard the news of the birth early in the morning they thought something had gone wrong and were “praying without ceasing”.

Pete and I came home from the hospital 6 days later and never was I so thankful and happy to be in my own little nest with my husband and three littles.

Over the years as I’ve reflected on that day, I give thanks that Pete and I lived. God graciously gave me three little boys to care for and protect and raise and teach to be strong men, strong husbands and fathers. God allowed Randy and I to continue to pastor the local churches we served for 35 years. After the boys were in school I had the opportunity to teach piano and voice and teach classroom music to students at the Listowel Christian school and John Calvin Christian school in Guelph. I was able to share music at the Sunbeam Centre in Kitchener. Music has always been a huge part of my life.

I have learned the importance of that niggling in my mind and heart to pray for others. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and a loved one comes to mind and I pray. Most times I don’t know exactly what I should be praying for but God hears and answers. Pray.

It was Martin Luther who said - “None can believe how powerful prayer is, and what it is able to effect, but those who have learned it by experience. It is a great matter when in extreme need to take hold on prayer.”

As the seasons follow each other - count it all joy - for opportunities to spread love to those around you.

On the death of beloved relatives

Yesterday, we celebrated the lives of Uncle Stan and Aunt Lou Jolliffe. They passed away 19 months ago but we finally were able to meet together to celebrate their very long lives. There weren’t many of us there and as I looked around the room I saw their son, Doug and his wife, their two children and their significant others. I saw one other Jolliffe cousin and her husband. I saw a few elderly friends of Stan and Lou - and Harvey and I.

The pastor began the service by asking those present what they liked best about Stan and Lou - what they remembered them for…….there was one who remarked about vacationing together in Florida……another remembered playing cards together…..and another mentioned enjoying meals together. Those are nice things but those things were not on my radar.

Three things stand out in my memory of Uncle Stan and Aunt Lou.

Their marriage. They married in 1946 - right after the war and that made them married almost 75 years. Amazing. They died within 28 hours of each other - Uncle Stan in the early evening of December 30th, 2020 and Aunt Lou on New years Day - 2021. Amazing. Their commitment to each other for all those years was extraordinary. (I only met them in 1980 when I married into the Jolliffe family.) Uncle Stan always had a twinkle in his eye and loved to tease. Aunt Lou was the love of his life and she knew it. Their commitment to each other all those years is an example to their family and friends and anyone who knew them.

A good marriage doesn’t happen by accident.

Their marriage was characterized by communication. They talked about anything and everything. Aunt Lou was a great talker and Uncle Stan was a good listener!!! They admired and respected each other. I never heard them put each other down. They were great companions. They loved to golf together in the early days of their marriage and of course, it was a given, they attended church and bible study together. They shared their faith in God and the Bible. They had great affection for each other. Again, even in their later years they loved to touch each other, hug each other, kiss each other. They dealt with crisis and stress with grace. Life (as with most of us) was not always easy. Many times in their lives they faced difficulties but they faced them with dignity. They had compassion for those less fortunate. And as with most seniors born in the early part of the 20th century, they adapted to many changes in their lives. They were flexible and tolerant. These great characteristics in marriage are what we all must strive for.

I’m grateful for these long marriages that persevere in this time of “throw-aways”. I admire them. I aspire to follow their example.

Aunt Lou was an encourager to me. Over the years I received cards and letters from her and the notes were always filled with messages of love, praise for a job well done, encouragement for tough times and the like - especially when Randy died suddenly in 2014. She often phoned me and wrote notes during those initial difficult days as I learned to live as a young widow. My own mother-in-law had passed away and my father-in-law was in his last days (suffering from dementia - Dad Jolliffe passed away 5 months after Randy did) and it was then that Aunt Lou said “we will be your in-laws now”. They stepped in to love on me - to keep me in the family. I felt like a ship-wrecked boat - tossed on the seas - and they offered me safe harbour in their family. And then when I met Harv and phoned them to tell them I was going to be remarried - they were overjoyed. They were so happy for me. They met Harv several times as we made the trip back and forth to Windsor to visit them.

Encouragement. The word itself comes from the combination of the prefix “en” which means “to put into” and the Latin word “cor” which means “heart”. Imagine how the world would change if we all got better at this. I love Gary Chapman’s book - THE FIVE LOVE LANGUAGES - where he goes into great detail that not everyone’s emotional needs are met the same way and that it is important that we know especially our spouse’s needs and how we can meet them. The five love languages are - words of affirmation - quality time - receiving gifts - acts of service and physical touch.

Encourage one another daily. Send flowers. Offer food. Send a card. Remind each other of the promises in the Bible. Celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, rainy days, sunny days….be present in each other’s lives…it’s important in these days of so many crazy world events to be an encourager.

Like many people of their generation, Aunt Lou and Uncle Stan had a strong faith. They loved God and they loved the local church. We often had great conversations about our faith - living out what the Bible taught us - and when they were old and in the nursing home, that faith was their rock. They clung to the truths of God’s word and looked forward to heaven. They didn’t fear death. Death held the promise of eternal life. What joy for me to chat only a few weeks before they died about their strong yearning to “go Home to be with Jesus”. That conversation with Aunt Lou still resonates in my memory.

Billy Graham - the great evangelist from the last century - said “faith literally means ‘to give up, surrender or commit’” - “faith is complete confidence .” This is it! Complete confidence in God and living our lives accordingly.

What will relatives and friends say at my funeral about me?

What will they say about you?

The thing is - say it now. Don’t wait until after they are gone.

ON BEING A MOM

Being a mother is not glamorous but there is no other job on earth that will ever measure up.

I just celebrated my 40th mother’s day. In fact I can hardly believe that I have been a mom for that many years. (Not even close to the 80 years that my mom celebrated mother’s day - halfway there though!) Even as a small girl when I was asked what I wanted to do with my life - I always answered “be a mom”. I never answered - “teacher” or “scientist” or “nurse” or “sports analyst” or anything else - even though I know I could have been any of those things - perhaps not the scientist!

For the past 6 years I have followed and I have been wrapped up in the Pearson family on the tv show - THIS IS US. The plot begins with Rebecca Pearson (the mom) giving birth to triplets on Jack Pearson (the dad’s) 36th birthday. The lives of Rebekah, Jack and their three children - Kevin - Kate and Randall - are presented at different points in time. The Rebecca and Jack stories generally take place during the early stage of their marriage, the births of the “triplets” and the different phases of the children’s upbringing while separate stories concerning Kevin, Kate and Randall are also presented in their adult years - each one of them with their own particular narratives.

I love this show because it’s the story of a family and the love that they share through the good, the bad and ugly. The kids are born right around the time my kids were born and even though I didn’t have triplets, my boys were born very close together and it often felt like there were triplets in the house. Their story is my story - a young couple with more month than money - three kids/two parents (always outnumbered by the kids) - the sudden death of Jack leaving Rebecca having to learn to live as a widow and the kids lost without their dad - her second marriage to Miguel - growing older and dealing with Miguel’s heart disease and Rebecca’s alzheimer’s disease - and the “big three” (as they are known on the show) living out their lives in their careers with their families. But the backbone of the show is Rebecca - the mom. Mandy Moore plays the part of Rebecca and while this blog is not about her or the show - she is brilliant, portraying the role of a mother from day one until her death. I laughed and cried through most every episode and there are only two more shows until it is off the air. I’ll miss the Pearson family. I’ll miss Rebecca.

BEING A MOM IS NOT GLAMOROUS! It’s millions of moments of caring and loving your littles…..it’s getting out of your warm bed (sometimes) many times a night to comfort your child……it’s answering the same questions over and over again……it’s preparing meal after meal after meal to feed those hungry bellies…….it’s washing dish after dish after dish………it’s wiping runny noses and wiping up vomit…….it’s changing diapers…….it’s picking up those tiny lego pieces……..it’s doing endless loads of laundry and matching up all those wayward socks…….it’s singing to and rocking your baby to sleep…….it’s somewhat boring at times to read the same story again and again because it’s “their favourite”…….it’s monotonous pushing the swing at the park……it’s exhausting…..it’s frustrating…..it’s lonely……

SO IF MOTHERHOOD IS NOT GLAMOROUS - WHY WOULD ANY WOMAN PURSUE IT?

BECAUSE IT’S NECESSARY.

BECAUSE IT’S A CALLING.

I still remember the first time I was referred to as a mom. Zac was exactly 8 hours old. Randy and I were looking through the nursery window and nurse called out - are you “baby boy Jolliffe’s mom?” Yes I was. My dream as a young girl was now reality. I didn’t mother perfectly - in fact, many times I was more imperfect than I would have wished but I mothered like a rockstar. I loved that pile of snowy white diapers - folded and piled high ready for the next day……I loved nursing my babies and singing hymns and lullabies to soothe them before sleep……I loved cooking their favourite meals……..I loved doing laundry……….I loved attending their games and cheering them on whatever playing field they were on……….I loved seeing them find the love of their lives and marry and have children themselves………..I love them as adults, men who have found their particular place in this world, doing what they are called to do. I know they are where they are today - because of God’s grace on our family life - giving us the wisdom and love needed to raise our own version of the “big three”.

One of my favourite preachers of old is C.H. Spurgeon. Here is one of his quotes about the role of mothers in the lives of their children.

‘Please understand that you have a very sacred trust reposed in you by God! He has in effect said unto you, “Take this child away, and nurse it for me, and I will give thee thy wages”. ‘ That’s enough. That’s more worthwhile than anything else in this world.

FORTY MOTHER’S DAYS HAVE COME AND GONE. REGRETS - I HAVE A FEW - mostly just one! I wish we could have had a few more - there was room in my heart for a few more children but it wasn’t meant to be.

So then, these are the things I’ve learned in 40 years - from experience, from my own mother and sisters, from my friends, and from my own daughter’s in laws (as they mother my grandchildren).

Grow yourself as a mom daily - for me as a Christian - I tried to read a verse or two from the Bible - sing a hymn and pray everyday.

Love your husband and let your kids see you loving him - tell him in front of the kids that you love him and are committed to your marriage.

Teach your children practical things liking making their beds, putting their clothes and toys away, doing the dishes etc.

Be consistent. When you say something - let them know you mean it.

Teach manners - "yes, please”, “no, thank you” - goes a long way in life.

Attend church and Sunday School together as a family.

Know that your kids are watching you and will imitate your behaviour.

Laugh a lot. Smile. Tell funny stories. Listen to your kids tell their funny stories and laugh together.

Hang out with like minded families.

Pray! Pray! Pray!

Being the mom to Zac, Ben and Pete, has been my greatest joy and accomplishment. It was a privilege to raise these sons to manhood.

Someone is going to be influencing your child during his earliest years, pouring values and imprinting standards on that impressionable young soul. Let it be you. I can assure you that the price you will pay for mothering will fade into insignificance as you see your children grow in Christ, and desire to follow Him in their own lives.

“Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9).

SECOND MARRIAGES

My parents were married for almost 69 years - they married young (22 and 18) - they had children (lots of them) - they raised them and sent them off to live their lives, marry and produce grandchildren (which were many) - they grew older and lived awesome lives into their senior years - and when my dad got sick in his late 80’s, it was my mom who lovingly cared for him until he died at the age of 91. My mom would live 14 more years after my dad - her beloved spouse passed away.

I imagined that’s how every marriage turned out. I imagined that was how mine would go as well. Randy and I also married young (23 and 21) - we too had children (not as many as my parents) - we raised them and sent them off to live their lives, marry and produce grandchildren for us. But what didn’t happen for us was that we would have the opportunity to grow older together and live awesome lives in our senior years. That image of a perfect long marriage was shattered when Randy collapsed while out running and passed away one week later. I had become a widow at the age of 56.

It’s not what I wanted. It’s not what I had imagined.

In those early days of widowhood - I wondered some things. I wondered who would care for me when I was an old lady. I wondered who would hold my head and wipe my face when I was sick to my stomach. I wondered who I would travel with. I wondered where I would live or if I would move. I wondered what it would be like to grow old alone without my spouse. I wondered if my friends would include me in their dinner parties. I wondered if my kids would worry about me all alone in my house. I wondered if I should get another dog. I wondered a lot of things.

There were things - though - I didn’t wonder about. My grief was raw but my faith was strong. There were truths that I knew without a shadow of a doubt.

I knew……..

#1. Nothing is unknown to God. I was born for a specific purpose and that purpose had not changed. All my life events were still in place. God never abandoned me.

#2. God was near to me. Even though I was walking through the valley of the shadow of death, I would fear no evil, for God was with me - His rod and staff comforted me.

#3. The Lord was working out His plans for my life. I knew He was fulfilling HIs purpose for me. I knew I had a purpose as a mom and grandma. I knew I taught piano lessons. I knew I was a mentor to young women in my church and neighbourhood. God was working and I would wait to see the next thing He had for me to do.

#4. An eternal perspective put Randy’s death in perspective. I didn’t see the whole picture - the whole time line. I only saw a glimpse. We are on this earth for such a short time really - a blip - because we are created for eternal life. The time of grieving is temporary.

#5. In God’s hands the difficult things of life eventually become good. I knew that God was able and willing to redeem Randy’s death and make good for me. He promised me and I held on to that promise. I didn’t see how. I didn’t see why. I didn’t see when. I didn’t see what. But God did and that’s all I needed.

Last Saturday, Harv and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary. The years have flown by. If you asked us both - we’d say - at that time - we weren’t looking for a second spouse but when we were introduced by friends in late 2015, romance blossomed quickly and we married on April 2, 2016. Our wedding verse was from Psalm 30:5 - “weeping may last for the night but joy comes in the morning”. After both being widowed in our mid 50’s, after much grief and tears, we were both given a second chance at marriage.

Cinderella is a fairy tale story that I loved as a child. We all know the story - Cinderella’s father remarries and his new wife has two daughters. Eventually the father dies and Cinderella becomes the servant and is mistreated by her step mother and step sisters. Eventually, she marries the prince and they live happily ever after. I never knew what happened to the step mother or step sisters.

Having a step family is not something most people anticipate or plan for. The word “step” originates from the Old English word - “steop” which means bereave. Practically speaking, the only reason that a step family occurs is because of death (in our case) or divorce - one marriage has ended and a new one occurs. So a step son is a bereaved son - a step mother is a bereaved mother. It puts a clear perspective on the word - “step”.

Our children were all married or (almost) married when we got married. One thing we agreed on even before we exchanged vows was that we would not - ever - offer opinions about each other’s children without permission. It’s very different for a mother and father to chat about their own kids as opposed to a step father or step mother discussing family situations. It was a good decision.

One of the things I didn’t like to do alone was grandparent - so what a joy to be married (again) to a grandfather. One of my daughter-in-laws recently shared with me how thankful she was for Harvey and his role as a grandpa in the lives of their children. (My oldest grandchildren were only 3 when Randy died and they don’t have much memory of him. They know Randy through memories and pictures and stories by their dads.) But it’s Harv who has been given a significant and meaningful opportunity to be their grandfather - their step grandfather - their grief grandfather. It is Harv who has the opportunity of pouring his knowledge of life and God and sports into their lives.

On marrying a second time - the blessings of the Lord have flowed to me. What do I enjoy about being married a second time? I love that our marriage is about living life to the full and living it together. In just 9 weeks - Harv and I are setting off for a bike and barge adventure to Holland and Belgium. My Mom always said “make good memories” and that’s what we are doing! I love that we care for each other - I’m a nurturing person and it’s my joy and delight to cook great meals and care for our home while Harv makes sure everything that has a motor is up and running. I appreciate the moments that we talk about the day to day stuff - to listen to each others point of view - to help each other.

When I was a child and young adult and imagined a long marriage like my parents - I didn’t imagine my first marriage would be cut short at 35 years. But now I see that perhaps I will get to that 50 or 60 or even 70 years of marriage with two husbands - it’s possible - two wonderful, amazing men - both godly men who love me and their families. A solid marriage is not to be taken lightly and for granted. That much I know.

MISSING MOM

Exactly one year ago we were walking my 100 year old momma Home to Glory. Exactly one year ago her frail body gave out and she willingly, gladly passed from this life to the next.

I miss her. Not that I wish her back for one moment. I don’t. But I miss our chats. i miss her stories. I miss the connection to all that came before. The connection to grandparents and great grandparents. I miss all those things and more.

My Mom was a mother for 80 years and it was from her that I learned how to be a mom and then later how to be a grandmother. I don’t know if I’ll make it to being a great grandmother - but she was that too. She was even a great - great grandmother.

What did I learn?

Here are things I learned from my mom in no particular order.

#1. About marriage. “Surely the most important part of a wedding isn’t the day. It is every day after.”

My parents were married for 69 years. They raised 9 children - from 1940 through until 1979 my parents had kids in their home. Thirty-nine years! The week before I married Randy in 1979 my Dad read a fortune cookie that said - “soon all your troubles will be over”! We all laughed as my parents realized they would soon be empty nesters.

My Dad worked at the mill and my mom “kept house”. There were many times when there was more month than money - more hand-me-downs than something new - more home-made than store-bought. My parent’s marriage was built on commitment and faith in each other and to each other. They scrapped - don’t get me wrong. There were sharp words at times. But never did me or my siblings worry that one would walk out the door and not come back. My parents exemplified how a husband and wife mutually respect and lift each other up. They used each other’s strengths to grow their marriage. They supported each other in their shortcomings.

As Mom was approaching death, she spoke so much of seeing her beloved “Stan the man” once again. I know when Mom’s breath stopped on this side and she began her new life - my Dad was there meeting her and welcoming her Home.

My first hold with my first grandchild - Sara.

#2. About parenting. I was so amazed when we had our firstborn, Zac, that after a few days they just sent us home and expected us to know what to do with a newborn. Zac was born the middle of January and my Mom had come to stay with us for a bit. It was so snowy that winter that Dad wasn’t able to get back to Orillia for several weeks, so Mom just stayed! What a great blessing for us. I learned how to breast feed. I learned the difference between a hungry cry and a wet cry and a mad cry and a “I just want to be cuddled” cry. I learned that it’s never wrong to cuddle and rock your newborn - that dusting and cleaning can wait. I learned “to never stand up when you can sit down - to never sit when you can lie down.” I learned how to fold the perfect diaper! (There is really nothing like a stack of gleaming white flannelette - neatly folded diapers!) I learned that my heart would forever be owned by three little boys and no matter what age I was or they are - they are tucked - safely - in my heart. I learned that my heart would ache with every disappointment or failure but it would rejoice with each and every accomplishment. I learned that my heart would watch and wait for the car to drive into the driveway - that my heart would trust for the “right” girl to come into their lives at just the right time. I learned all these things and more.

When my parents were brand new parents - as the story goes - they were lazy about church attendance. “It was hard with a newborn”. “Sunday is my day off!” Their pastor came for a visit to the young couple and encouraged them to begin then and now to attend church. It would never get easier. There would always be something to keep them from attending church. The very next Sunday they bundled up their newborn daughter (my oldest sister, Marilyn) and never looked back. Attending church and Sunday School would become part of their routine. For that I’m truly grateful. It would always be part of our routine as well.

I learned to pray for my sons. I learned that the power of a mother’s prayers for her children is a force to be reckoned with. I prayed and continue to.

In the early days of our marriage - Randy and I - had more month than money as well. We prayed about everything and just before Zac was born - God answered our prayers and someone blessed us with a washer and dryer “so I didn’t have to go to the laundry mat” - that washer and dryer hummed along perfectly for our family for 25 years.

I remember a day when our two year old - Ben - was so sick we were at a loss as to what to do. He was so lethargic. We were frightened. We asked God for wisdom. We took Ben to emergency and they said “there is nothing wrong with him.” I just knew I couldn’t leave the hospital. I asked for a second opinion (scrappy mom) and the second doctor said he was dehydrated and it was a good think we hadn’t taken him home. Another answer to prayer - just two of the hundreds that God answered over the years we were raising our boys.

#3. About words. Toby Mac said - “sometimes we get so carried away trying to be right - we forget to be kind.”

Dementia took over mom’s life and there were a few times over the last year’s of her life that the disease caused some unkind words to come out of my sweet Momma’s mouth. I remember one particular day early last January when mom came banging out of her room. Her walker smashed into the door. I asked her if I could help her. I asked her what was wrong! (Not a good question at the time I know now!) I got an answer that even surprised me. I left her alone for a bit and had a good cry. Later I came back into her room and she looked at me and said “I love you.” She had forgotten all about her outburst. I told her right back that I loved her too.

Mom taught us these truths about our words!

Return harsh words with gentleness.

Have a soothing tongue.

Speak wisely.

A timely word is a good thing.

You don’t always have to be right.

Good news brings health to the bones.

If you don’t have anything nice to say - don’t say it at all!

Guard your tongue.

Mom would say - “choose your words carefully - because you may have to eat them someday.”

#4. Handling hard situations with grace and dignity.

It’s easy to show grace when everything is hunky dory in your life. It’s easy to smile when your bank account is not on empty - when you don’t have a sick child in the hospital - when there are no body aches and pains - when your kid makes first string and isn’t riding the bench - when your husband is tucked beside you watching tv and you’re not wondering where he is or who he is with - or any other difficult situation you can imagine. But what happens when any one of these things play out in your life? What do you do? How do you handle these tough situations?

I remember a time when one of my boys was in the public speaking competition - probably grade 4 or 5. He had a great speech and placed second or third. I taught music at this same school and the very next day - after the speech competition - I went into my classroom and realized the judges had left their comment sheets on my desk. It was interesting to read their comments and remarks. My bad though - when I realized they had totalled my son’s score incorrectly and he had placed first. I remember calling my Mom to ask her advice about letting them know they had made a mistake. Wisely, with grace and dignity, Mom said - “let it go”. “It will be devastating for the student who gets knocked out of the first place position and there will be other firsts along the way!” “Martha - show grace.”

Another time - Randy and I were going through an extremely difficult time while pastoring one of our churches. I wanted to stay home. I wanted to point out their faults. I wanted revenge. Once again - my parents - gave us wise advice. “Be graceful to those who are oppressing you.” “Don’t stoop to anyone else’s level.” “It’s not your place to make others pay.” “Hold your head up high.” Wise parents.

When my brother Tim died in a boating accident when he was just 39 years old , it was a dreadful shock to our family. My parents grieved Tim’s passing. I don’t know how a mother ever really gets over the death of her child. But even in grief, Mom and Dad, taught us how to trust in God’s perfect sovereignty - how to put our faith in things we can’t see - that this life is not the life we were created for, but that we all are created for the life that is to come. It was great preparation when I would face the sudden death of Randy, several years later.

#5. Be happy for others.

When I would telephone my Mom, she would always be full of good news. She would tell stories of friends and their accomplishments - of family members and their good fortunes. It was a learning experience for me even when I didn’t realize it.

Always be thankful for what you have - rather than bitter for what you don’t have.

I remember when I called her to tell her that I had met Harv - how we thought we would have a second chance for marriage - after both of us being widowed. Mom was over the top excited for me. She told me - “ever since Randy died I have been praying that God would bring a wonderful man into your life. You are too young to live out this life alone. I give you my blessing.” That meant so much to me.

I try to live my life that way.

It’s been one year - Momma - when your faith became sight. What glory and wonder you are experiencing.

I can only imagine.

I miss you - Momma - but not for a moment do I wish you back here when you are experiencing the amazing gift of being in the Presence of Jesus.

xo

TUESDAYS WITH MORRIE

Recently I reread Mitch Albom’s thought provoking book - “Tuesdays With Morrie”. Mitch Albom was an accomplished sports writer but felt his life was lacking something! He happened to watch a television interview with his former university professor, Morrie Schwartz and felt compelled to reconnect with his teacher and friend. Morrie was struggling with Lou Gehrig’s disease. The book describes their conversations - every Tuesday for several weeks - conversations about death, fear, aging, greed, marriage, family, society, forgiveness and what it means to live a meaningful life.

I’ve read this little book several times and every time it speaks to me. It speaks to me about the importance of having people in my life who are with me for the long haul. It speaks to me about the importance of my faith - keeping it strong through all the twists and turns of life. It speaks to me of being open to discuss uncomfortable things. It speaks to me of walking with others through their afflictions. It just speaks.

It’s a tiny book and doesn’t take long to read but I found myself rereading the words - jotting them down in my journal - chewing on them - digesting them - taking them to heart.

Here’s a quote Morrie said to Mitch on one of those Tuesday mornings!

“DYING IS ONLY ONE THING TO BE SAD OVER. LIVING UNHAPPILY IS SOMETHING ELSE. SO MANY PEOPLE WHO COME TO VISIT ME ARE UNHAPPY.”

“Happiness does not depend on circumstances.” I wrote these words on August 21, 2014 - one month after Randy passed away - “My confidence and joy is not in myself or my circumstances but in Jesus. His promise is to be with me in all things. It is God’s power that enables me to continue in this journey - called life.” Each day I have the choice to live with a joy-filled sense of gratefulness or with a pessimistic, miserable attitude. If I focus on the circumstances of this world, it would be easy to slip into a measure of gloom and doom and certainly, there is a lot of misery and doubt and unhappiness all around us that is pretty messy and discouraging right now. BUT - when we live and do all things with grace and gratefulness - when we live in the midst of this crooked and twisted generation, we shine as lights. Lights are intended for guidance to help those in the dark. Lights are intended for warning - warning of living lives that lead to bitterness and regret. Lights are intended to cheer others on. So I choose to live an abundant and fulfilling life - spreading joy - speaking encouragement - sharing someone’s heavy load - answering a cutting word with gentleness and grace - smiling for those who can’t. I don’t do this in my own power - Psalm 121:1,2 says, “I lift up my eyes to the hills from whence comes my help. My help comes from the Lord.” Only through the power of God in our lives are we able to live a joy-filled life in these days of uncertainty and change.

Here’s another quote from Morrie to Mitch!

“SO MANY PEOPLE WALK AROUND WITH A MEANINGLESS LIFE. THEY SEEM HALF ASLEEP, EVEN WHEN THEY’RE BUSY DOING THINGS THEY THINK ARE IMPORTANT. THAT IS BECAUSE THEY ARE CHASING THE WRONG THINGS. THE WAY YOU GET MEANING INTO YOUR LIFE IS TO DEVOTE YOURSELVES TO LOVING OTHERS; DEVOTE YOURSELF TO THE COMMUNITY AROUND YOU AND TO DEVOTE YOURSELF TO CREATING SOMETHING THAT GIVES YOU PURPOSE AND MEANING.”

I had always thought that I would be and really desired to be a motivational speaker for conferences - national and international. I thought I’d be good at it. I wanted it but it never happened for me. Instead I find myself having coffee or lunch with one or two girlfriends - hosting a tiny group of women in my home for a bible study and conversation - chatting on the phone weekly with my (older) sisters and brothers - things that certainly don’t make the front page of google news or People’s magazine. I believe each one of us have gifts and a purpose - mine was and is - tend to my family - tend to my friends, both near and far - and to be a blessing to those I meet randomly. My sons are long grown, now with lovely wives and children of their own. My job of raising my sons is long over and yet it’s not. They are ever on my mind. One hundred times a day my mind wanders to their homes - I picture them waking up - parents drinking their first cup of coffee and kids chattering at the breakfast table - the normal and natural conversations of parents with their children for the daily reminders. I see one son - editing his photos for anxious brides and getting disc golf courses installed in every city in Ontario. I see another son heading to the office to prepare his weekly sermon and deal with the goings on in his church. I see my other son guiding the students at his high school and encouraging them to have purpose in their lives. I picture my grandchildren at their schools. Are they happy today? Are they understanding their lessons? Are their teachers frazzled with a classroom of very different personalities. I imagine my d-i-l’s at their jobs and in their homes - balancing both, with love and competence. So what do I do?

I pray!

I send packages in the mail!

I text!

Oh yes, my life has great meaning in the lives of my family and community.

Morrie says about ALS - “IT’S ONLY HORRIBLE IF YOU SEE IT THAT WAY. IT’S HORRIBLE TO WATCH MY BODY SLOWLY WILT AWAY TO NOTHING. BUT IT’S WONDERFUL BECAUSE OF ALL THE TIME I GET TO SAY GOOD BYE. NOT EVERYONE IS SO LUCKY.”

While we have time - talk - to each other. Say the words. Don’t have unfinished business and then find it’s too late to do anything about it.

On that Saturday morning of June 28, 2014, Randy collapsed while running and never regained consciousness. He passed away seven days later without ever waking up. I’m so thankful that we didn’t speak unkind words on that morning and that I would have to live with regrets - for either speaking the words or not offering forgiveness. There were times of quick, unloving words, but we were also quick to forgive and forget. We didn’t have time. We didn’t have that one last conversation. We didn’t have that one last date. We didn’t have that one last smile. For us - we didn’t have it - but each day we lived with no hidden grudges or unforgiveness - just as I do now.

While we have time - LOVE OTHERS WELL - HATE WHAT IS EVIL - CLING TO WHAT IS GOOD. BE DEVOTED TO ONE ANOTHER - HONOUR ONE ANOTHER ABOVE YOURSELVES - BE JOYFUL IN HOPE - PATIENT IN AFFLICTION AND FAITHFUL IN PRAYER. SHARE WITH OTHERS AND PRACTICE HOSPITALITY. BLESS THOSE WHO PERSECUTE YOU. REJOICE WITH THOSE WHO ARE REJOICING AND WEEP WITH THOSE WHO ARE WEEPING. LIVE IN HARMONY WITH EACH OTHER. DON’T REPAY EVIL FOR EVIL. DON’T TAKE REVENGE. OVERCOME EVIL WITH GOOD.

Morrie and Mitch had it right. They spent time together - they spoke the words - they listened - they shared life - they talked about important stuff.

They didn’t wait until it was too late.

Me neither.

The Silver

When I was a small child, some of my best memories is of our family gathered around the dining room table. It may have been just our immediate family (all 11 of us) but usually there were two or three or four more added to the mix. We had a gynormous (really big) table that seemed to expand to accommodate however many were gathered to eat.

My mom set a beautiful table. We used the best silver often. My mom didn’t feel the need to save the silver or china or crystal for only Christmas or Easter or Thanksgiving. Every night was an opportunity to celebrate something. It was around the table that our family shared life. We ate together. Depending on my Dad’s shift work schedule - we ate together at lunch or supper. (Those were the days when kids didn’t stay at school to eat their lunch). I digress. It was around the table that we talked of world events, school events, local events, sports, politics, church goings on, and the like. It was where sisters were teased by brothers about boyfriends. It was where tears were shed about a failed test result, a relationship breakup, a neighbour’s death. It was around the same table where the winning shot in a basketball game was described in detail - over and over again, where a new girlfriend was introduced to the family, where - sometimes - everyone talked at once. And always at the end of the meal, everyone would say “good supper, Ma!”

It was around the table where manners were taught.

Please pass the butter.

Thank you.

Use your serviette, not your sleeve.

When you are finished eating, put your knife and fork across the middle of your plate.

Stay at the table until everyone is finished eating and wait for permission to leave.

These were lessons for life. These were preparations for the outside world. These were manners that would be used in the future.

My mom prepared me to be a wife and a mom and grammie who enjoys hospitality and the gathering around the dinner table. There have been memorable moments in my home too.

We lived in Listowel when the boys were in elementary school and their early years in high school. It was all we could do to feed three very hungry boys three meals a day. I always added a loaf of bread to the supper menu to help fill those “hollow legs!” The odd time all my desires to have a proper dinner table flew out the window. Randy and the boys loved to toss a piece of their food and catch it in their mouths. This would drive me nuts. One day, Randy got more creative and put a piece of banana on a spoon - flung it in the air and prepared to catch it in his mouth when it came down. Only it didn’t come down. It stuck to the ceiling. Oh, the laughter. The boys thought this was the best ever. Any chance to have order that night was for naught.

Another time when we were pastoring in Listowel, we were going through a particularly difficult time. It happens to pastors and their families. We were discouraged. We were tempted to quit. We were lonely. We prayed for guidance and strength and hope. Hope showed up at church the next Sunday. It was a man visiting from the States. After church he asked us if he could pick up lunch for our family and bring it to our house and join us for a meal. I went home - set the table and we waited for him to arrive. Arrive he did, with a bounty of delicious food from one of the local restaurants. We talked long after the boys had finished their dinner and had gone out to play. This man stayed in our community for a few weeks (working in the area) - shared many lunches and dinners with us - encouraged our hearts, prayed with us, brought gifts to the boys and befriended us with what we needed at just the right time. After a few weeks, he went back home. We never saw him again. We looked up his name and business in the city where he said he was from - guess what - no such person. I do believe we entertained an angel for that period of time. (Hebrews 13:2) “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.”

When we lived in Cambridge it was during the time when the boys were in high school and university. Before moving to Cambridge from Listowel I prayed we’d find a house that had a pool. In the five months of waiting to sell and then buy, many homes came and went. I kept praying that when the time was right, God would provide a pool with the house. Sure enough (as if there was any doubt), the day our house sold in Listowel, a home in Cambridge came up for sale - with a pool. We put an offer in on the spot and soon our offer was accepted and the house would be ours. That pool brought many teenagers and families to our home that led to many lunches and suppers around the table. One day I arrived home from being out and Pete had brought the rugby team home - including the coaches - all those great big boys in the pool - starving after practice. I quickly emptied every cookie can onto trays - made trays of fruit - crackers and cheese - chips and pop - and voila - a picnic for all those kids and their teachers. (Many of those teachers showed up years later at Randy’s funeral). I do believe that pool and the food that was offered and the friendships made during those years - blessed a whole lot of people.

It was one year ago today that my mom came to live with Harv and I. She would be with us for 10 weeks before her faith became sight and she went home to heaven to be with her Lord. Because of the dementia that had taken over her memory, her stories were few and those stories were repeated over and over again. One of her most loved stories was about her young family around the dinner table. She could picture her lovely table set with her china and silver and her husband and children sitting together.

You know! It doesn’t matter if you use sterling silver knives and forks. It doesn’t matter if you use crystal stemware or paper cups. It doesn’t matter if you use Royal Doulton China or plastic. What matters is that we are a hospitable people. It matters that we sit around our tables and share life. It matters that we invite the lovely and sometimes the unlovely to our table. It matters that we teach our children and grandchildren the fine art of saying - “yes please” or “no, thank you.” It matters that we take the time to listen to each other. It matters that we don’t rush through the dinner time to get on to the next thing. It matters that the family dinner table remains an important part of the day.

I continue to love to have people around our table. I love it when it’s just the two of us. I love it when the kids and grandkids are home. I love when friends are here. I love to cook and bake. I love to use the “good dishes”. Many of the dishes I use have been given to me by relatives and friends. What a gift and privilege it is to bless others around our table. Who wants to come for supper?

REFLEXIONS ON TURNING 60!

On Friday, January 26, 2018, I turned 60! I was born on a Sunday afternoon around 5 pm……..while 5 older brothers and 3 older sisters were anxiously waiting for the news. Was it another boy? Or, a girl, after 4 boys in a row! I think I would have been called “Martha” regardless! A shout out to my parents - Stan and Alice Castle - for raising us 9 kids - on one salary - when there was (often) more month than money.

I’m not old but neither am I young. I’ve learned things in my life - sometimes the hard way. In no particular order - I wrote down 60 things I’ve learned and relearned - experienced and continue to experience, loved and continue to love - when I turned 60!

#1. When you smile at people - they generally smile back.

#2. Anyone can start a fight - it takes a brave person to end it.

#3. Choose being kind over being mean.

#4. Learning to play the piano takes time and discipline. That’s a good thing. I’m so glad I took lessons for lots and lots of years.

#5. Scales, arpeggios, 4-note patterns are tedious but necessary.

#6. Everyone should learn to be a team player.

#7. Eating real food is healthier than food out of a box.

#8. Being a mom is the greatest accomplishment of my life.

#9. Training for the races I’ve run brought me great joy in the end. Sometimes during the training it was very hard and not much fun. Running in the rain and snow and wind was hard but it paid off.

#10. My 8 siblings and their spouses are my closest friends.

#11. Twice in my life - I’ve had a best friend. The first one was when I was 7 and the second one when I was fifty-two. I’m grateful for both women.

#12. My parents taught me to tithe 10% to our local church.

#13. They also taught me how to save for things. (Hard to do in an instant-have society)

#14. Don’t hold grudges.

#15. My dog - maggie - was my best Christmas present ever! I loved her.

#16. I’m grateful for what I have rather than bitter for what I don’t have.

#17. Don’t make promises you can’t or won’t keep.
#18. I choose not to fear.

#19. On raising children - the hardest work is done in the pre-school years - after that - it’s easy! :)

#20. Attending church and Sunday School is a given and a privilege.

#21. Keep teenagers busy in sports and music and youth group.

#22. Walk daily.

#23. Be an encourager.

#24. Only yell when there is a fire.

#25. I would take a bullit for my grandkids.

#26. I have been privileged to love and bless two husbands.

#27. My God is the same on the mountain as well as in the valley.

#28. Sometimes there are worse things than death.

#29. Broken hearts eventually heal.

#30. Forgive as God has forgiven you.

#31. Complainers drive me crazy.

#32. Sometimes life is not fair. Get over it.
#33. Fishing takes patience.

#34. During the most difficult week of my life I was surrounded by my children, my family, my friends and hundreds of people who I didn't even know - who cared for me when I couldn’t care for myself. I’m so grateful.

#35. Always be prepared.

#36. I love to worship. I love to sing. I love to lift my hands.

#37. Massages - facials - manicures - pedicures - are really good therapy.

#38. Being prompt is an honourable thing.

#39. The sound of rain on a tent is very romantic.

#40. Pickup baseball with the boys and their friends was one of my favourite things to do.

#41. Road hockey is right up there too.

#42. Directing the musical “Anne of Green Gables” was deliriously joyful for me.

#43. Incredible love - holding each of my grandchildren for the first time.

#44. I love coffee and the first sip in the the morning is the best. Weak coffee is not worth drinking.

#45. The day I completed my first half marathon was amazing.

#46. Important dates - June 2, 1979 - January 15, 1982 - April 6, 1983 - August 20, 1984 - July 24, 1994 - February 12, 2007 - June 28, 2014 - July 4, 2014 - April 2, 2016. (I would now add January 26, 2021).

#47. I’ve always been comfortable in my own skin.

#48. I’m not very good at confrontation - sometimes it’s necessary but most times I’d rather keep the peace.

#49. I loved that my boys worked at Camp IAWAH through their teen years. It was worth so much more than a good paying summer job.

#50. I don’t drink alcohol and that’s fine by me.

#51. One dessert. Two forks. (that’s love)

#52. Letting my hair go from blonde to grey took a lot of courage.

#53. I’m competitive. As Jen says - “I didn’t come here to finish 2nd!”

#54. The Sound of Music is my favourite movie ever.

#55. If you don’t have anything nice to say - don’t say it at all.

#56. Don’t waste your life worrying what people are thinking or saying about you.

#57. I like to colour outside the lines and that’s okay too.

#58. Waiting begins with trust. Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.

#59. I love to read. Books have taken me to places I really want to visit someday.

#60. I’ve loved living in every decade. I’m looking forward to sharing this next one with Harvey - the kids - the grands - my family and friends.

With Thanksgiving approaching - I hope and trust that you can make a list of things that you’ve learned and loved.

So grateful.

So thankful.

I DON'T KNOW MUCH BUT I KNOW THIS

Recently Harv and I watch a movie called - A WEEK AWAY! This movie is an uplifting musical about a troubled teen - Will - who takes a leap of faith by attending summer camp and unexpectedly finds love, friends and a place to belong. A WEEK AWAY features songs we listened to a way back when! Songs like DIVE, PLACE IN THIS WORLD, BIG HOUSE, BABY BABY, AWESOME GOD and WHERE I BELONG.

If you’ve ever been to summer camp you remember the camp fires where people share their feelings.. At girl’s camp we called this night “mascara meltdown”! At one point in A WEEK AWAY they have one of those amazing campfires, only they changed it up a bit and said one line that resonated with me.

“I DON’T KNOW MUCH BUT I KNOW THIS……….”

“I DON’T KNOW MUCH BUT I KNOW THIS……….”

I’ve lived 63 years now and I’ve learned a few things along the way. Some I’ve learned the easy way. Oh, it is easy to live and trust when there is food on the table, money in the bank, clothes on our backs, books in the schoolrooms, gas in the car, having a car, health in our family, friends to share a meal with, a warm home, electricity…..and the like. Some things I’ve learned the hard way. though. Oh yes, it’s much harder when one or more of these things or all of these things are taken away or you’ve never had them.

Charles Spurgeon said, “To trust God in the light is nothing but to trust Him in the dark - that is faith.”

So, here we go!

I don’t know much but I know this……I have the privilege of living in the greatest country in the world. Canada. My home and native land. It’s a place of great beauty - filled with lakes and trees and large cities and quaint villages. It’s a place where I can live out my faith. I can go to my local church, freely, without the fear of being made fun of or ridiculed. I can have conversations with friends on the beach, on the golf course, or out for a walk about my faith and theirs. I can be available to those who question what is going on in our world and how my faith keeps me positive. I don’t know much but I know this - I don’t have to fear or be dismayed because I have a faith in God that is rooted in Him - not rooted in myself or this world. Corrie ten Boom said - “If you look at the world, you’ll be distressed. If you look within, you’ll be depressed. But if you look at Christ, you’ll be at rest.”

I don’t know much but I know this……it’s a good thing to be a giver of life. It’s always a good thing to look at life with a glass half full. It’s always a good thing to take the high road. It’s always good to be patient and kind. It’s always good to protect, trust , hope and persevere. It’s always great to bring out the best in those you meet. Smile at a stranger. And isn’t it the best when you make someone laugh.

This summer, my grandson Tyson, turned on two fans and then yelled into them making his voice funny and his hair blow wild. We both cracked up. Look at that smile.

I don’t know much but I know this…..I loved my Gramma Castle. She had a stroke when I was only 11 and died 7 years later when I was 18. She poured more into my life in my first 11 years than some who live a lifetime of many more years. She passed on her love for God and the local church. She passed on her love for piano and voice. I have her hymnbook. I remember sitting at the piano with her - pounding out the hymns and songs she loved. Gramma Castle did everything with gusto and flair. She was very British (not in the gentile sense) and lived life large and loud. I’m like her in many ways. Gramma wrote this poem before I was born!

THE CASTLES AT 13 ELM (1956)

Our Stan has a wonderful family - one of the best in town.

You could not find a finer one - if you searched the world around.

Take Marilyn for instance - she’s as sweet as she can be.

And Susan too. She’s just as nice.

And Brenda - well although she’s cute - a little skinny too.

She’s just as nice as all the rest.

Then comes our Dear Sweet Bobby. He’s just a great big squirt.

But all the folks they like him, so that really shouldn’t hurt.

There’s Harry and wee Teddy. Like two cats on hot bricks.

We wouldn’t have them different eh, all in (can’t read her writing) - well that sticks.

Wee Philly and wee Timmy - the sweetest I am sure

Dear Lord. Let these be the last. (There would be one more - me!)

Don’t give them anymore!

And what about their mother.

Oh boy, she makes a stir - I think my son’s a lucky guy - to have a wife like her!

My dad was a lucky guy - and so am I blessed - to have the heritage of a great family!

I don’t know much but I know this…….I’m thankful for second chances.

C. S. Lewis said this - “You can’t go back and change the beginning but you can start where you are now.

Hurtful words come easily when you speak to another? Apologize and set a guard on your lips to not speak until you can control your tongue.

Living a life of laziness? Make a list and stick to it.

Road rage? Do to others as you would have them do to you.

Keep trying.

There was a time when one of my sons was picked to be one of 3 “extras” on his high school basketball team. I remember saying to him - practice harder, practice longer, be in the gym first, leave the gym last, pick up the balls, say “yes sir” to the coach! Wait and see. You will be given a second chance because someone will quit or get hurt. Sure enough, the time came and the coach picked him to play on the team.

Seven years, my first husband, Randy, collapsed while out for an ordinary 10 km run. It was something we both did regularly. Something ordinary turned out to be life changing. Randy passed away 7 days later. My life, quite normal up until this time, changed in a moment. I was now a widow. I was single after 35 years of marriage. I was a Gramma without her Grampa. I was half of a whole. I knew the love of God during those fragile days. I felt beaten and battered and bruised but also knew he was binding up my broken heart and healing my wounded spirit.

George Herbert said - “I live to show His power, who once did bring my joys to weep and now my griefs to sing.”

I know about second chances. God brought my second husband into my life - Harv (a widower himself) to once again enjoy the blessings of marriage and family. I love being married. I love that my kids have a step father who cares for them. I love that my grandkids have a Grampa in their lives. I love the joy of chatting about our day over supper. Thank You - God - for second chances.

I don’t know much but I know this…..I think outside fresh air and exercise are important. My sweet momma was a believer in kids playing outside in all kinds of weather - skating and sledding and street hockey in the winter and baseball and soccer in the summer. Getting a ride to school was unheard of. It was that way when our kids were growing up too. For them and for us. We all played hard, ate well and slept the night through. I know this that I still love all things sports, playing and cheering others on.

I don’t know much but I know this……I love and am loved. I bless and am blessed. I give and receive. And just like young Will at camp - all we want and have in this life is within reach. We just have to take a step of faith sometimes and go for it.

I heard a preacher say - “occasionally weep deeply over the life you hoped for; grieve the losses and feel the pain. Then wash your face. Trust God. And embrace the life you have.”