I'M A HUGGER

I make no apologies. I’m a hugger. I was hugged by my parents. I was hugged by my siblings. I was hugged by my first husband. I’m hugged by my second husband. I hug my kids. I hug my grandkids. I hug my friends.

Virginia Satir - a family therapist - once said - “we need four hugs a day for survival - eight hugs a day for maintenance and - 12 hugs a day for growth.”

A few weeks ago my bestie called me to share the news that her dear mother had slipped away. We chatted over the phone and my friend shared the last days and moments of her mom’s life. It was not until we met at the funeral a few days later though and shared a hug that I felt that I could truly comfort her. What a blessing to enjoy the comfort of physical touch.

That same day I ran into an acquaintance and it wasn’t too long before this friend shared her agonizing story of family relations got awry. She wept and I drew her into my arms - where she continued to weep. I hugged her until the tears stopped. I promised her that I would be there for her.

That same week, I agonized with yet another friend after she heard from her doctor about an unexpected diagnosis. She told me over the phone and we both wept. We prayed together for comfort and strength. A few days later when we met in person, my arms went around my friend and that hug lasted over a minute.

It’s wondrous what a hug can do, A hug can cheer you when you’re feeling blue. A hug can say - ‘I love you so - or - ‘oh my, I hate to see you go.’

A hug is ‘welcome back again’ and ‘great to see you! Where’ve you been?’ A hug can soothe a small child’s pain, and bring a rainbow after the rain.

The hug! There’s just no doubt about it - we scarcely could survive without it! A hug delights and warms and charms - it must be why God gave us arms.

Hugs are great for fathers and mothers - sweet for sisters, swell for brothers. And chances are your favourite aunts - love them more than potted plants.

Kittens crave them - puppies love them - Presidents are not above them. A hug can break the language barrier - and make your travels so much merrier.

No need to fret about your store of them - the more you give, the more there’s more of them. So stretch those arms out without delay - and give SOMEONE A HUG TODAY!

Who will you hug today?

MY SON IS A CHURCH PLANTING PASTOR

This past Sunday - Harv and I were in Ottawa for the weekend and attended the church, my son, Ben pastors. It’s called Resurrection Church - a local church that is part of a larger group of churches that belong to the Presbyterian Church of America (PCA). Ben and Jen planted the church from scratch almost ten years ago and now it is thriving with over 200 people attending - so many young families and children.

It’s always a joy to attend Ben’s church - always a thrill to hear him preach - always a thrill to see him so loved and appreciated by his congregation.

Resurrection church celebrates communion - also called the Lord’s Supper - every week. I really love their practice of doing this. Ben and three of the elders stand at the front and every person who wants to and is qualified to receive communion, files to the front and Ben or the elder gives out a piece of bread and a glass of wine or grape juice. I usually have Ben give me the bread and juice and each time he says - “Mom - Christ’s body was slain for you. Mom - Christ’s blood was shed for you.” It makes it so personal and meaningful. I cry a little each and every time.

When Ben and Jen planted Resurrection church ten years ago - Ben wrote this description of what a church planted and church plant is.

We believe that God, in Jesus is making all things new. So, that changes how money is spent, how food is eaten, how kids are treated, how a city is built and how one thinks about their neighbourhood. In short, Christianity is not simply a belief system (though it includes that), it is a whole new way of living.

Consider the following a snapshot of a few of the ways Resurrection church will seek to embody true Christianity in Ottawa.

#1. A community not just for Christians but also for those who don’t believe in Jesus. What we mean is that we are serious about helping Christians grow in their faith, but we don’t stop there. We want to be a place for people who are curious about the Christian faith. We want to take doubt, questions and difficulties seriously and honestly.

This takes shape in a few ways -

• we will intentionally work to love our neighbours and befriend the people who live in our neighbourhood

• we will help our kids understand the gospel

• we will point to the gospel as the way into and the way forward in the Christian life

• we will make space in our services, small groups and community life for people who don’t believe what we believe

• we will love people for who they are not for what they believe

#2. A community not just for itself, but for Ottawa. Too often, communities and companies exist only for their shareholders and their own interests. In contrast, we hope to be a community that seeks the good of the city. We want a great church but we also want a great Ottawa.

This takes shape in a few ways -

- we will help Christians understand their vocations and become better teachers, lawyers, politicians and bureaucrats to serve the city

- we will serve people who can’t pay us back but need help

- we will invest time, money, and energy into institutions and groups outside of the church

#3. A community that is part of the gospel movement. We are not the last great hope of Ottawa and we don’t plan to be the last church planted in Ottawa. We think for Christians to really serve and love a city, it will take a whole movement of churches and groups working together.

Therefore, we plan to invest our time and money into other churches, other church plants and people who want to see God's kingdom come in Ottawa.

Their slogan is “A church for the convinced and unconvinced, the bored, the burned, the cynical, the religious, the irreligious, and the spiritual.”

At the conclusion of the service I chatted with a few of those who attended that morning - a new lady who began attending this summer. She told me how welcome she felt at Resurrection Church - how much she has enjoyed the singing and the sermons - how at home she already feels - how Ben’s visit to their home has encouraged her. I spoke with a young mom - who remembered from a previous visit that I was Ben’s Mom. Her words blessed my heart as she acknowledged that she and her husband were constantly encouraged by Ben’s preaching and teaching. Still two or three others approached me and made my heart sing as they spoke of Ben’s leadership.

3 John 1:4 “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.”

Congratulations to Ben and Jen, the elders and deacons and members of Resurrection Church as they soon celebrate ten years of ministry in Ottawa.

HEROES

A hero is someone who has done something brave, new, or good, and who is admired by one person or a group of people.

The story of DESMOND DOSS and HACKSAW RIDGE has intrigued me ever since I saw it at the movies a few years ago. Desmond grew up in Virginia - he had a brother - a father (who struggled with PTSD from WW1 and alcohol) and a mother - who displayed great faith in God for herself and her boys. After a serious incident with his younger brother that could have been fatal, Desmond, took very seriously the ten commandments, including the verse that states - THOU SHALL NOT KILL. Desmond later joined the army as a medic and because of his convictions asked to be a conscientious objector - that is - he would not bear arms - he could not and would not carry a gun. The movie - Hacksaw Ridge - told the story of this gentle man with a great big heart.

Private Desmond Doss walked into one of the bloodiest battles of World War II with nothing to protect himself save for his Bible and his faith in God. Doss was a devout Seventh Day Adventist and his faith was very important to him.

The fighting took place on the Maeda Escarpment in April 1945. The battlefield, located on top of a sheer 400-foot cliff, was fortified with a deadly network of Japanese machine gun nests and booby traps. The escarpment, nicknamed Hacksaw Ridge for the treacherously steep cliff, was key to winning the battle of Okinawa. The mission was thought to be near-impossible, and when Doss’s battalion was ordered to retreat, the medic refused to leave his fallen comrades behind.

Facing heavy machine gun and artillery fire, Doss repeatedly ran alone into the kill zone, carrying wounded soldiers to the edge of the cliff and singlehandedly lowering them down to safety. Each time he saved a man’s life, Doss prayed out loud, “Lord, please help me get one more.” By the end of the night, he had rescued an estimated 75 men. (Doss reckoned he saved about 50 men, but his fellow soldiers gauged it closer to 100. They decided to split the difference.)

I wept as I watched the movie. I wept as I saw this brave young man pull himself up that 400 - foot cliff all night long - rescuing one soldier after another. I wept as I watched the story unfold and as Doss continued to pray to save just one more. I wept at his bravery and strong faith. I wept when his commanders and fellow soldiers made fun of him and his faith - and yet he stayed faithful. I wept for all the lives lost. I wept that his conviction was to leave no one behind!

That is someone who did something completely brave and good. He was admired by thousands - me included. He was a true hero.

We had our babies in close succession. I was a young mom in the 1980’s - I stayed home each and every day with our three wee sons. My routine was quite - routine! Get up early - make breakfast - playtime at the park or at a friend’s house - or go for an outing to the beach - make lunch - nap time for the boys - while they were all napping, I was cleaning floors and prepping for supper - after nap time it was snack time and then more outdoor play - and then supper. Randy came home from work for supper time and while I cleaned up the dishes, Randy took care of bath time - we took turns reading bedtime stories and then, finally, bedtime. Day after day. Month after month. Year after year. From 1982 - 1989 - before all three boys were in school.

In 1986, there was a catastrophic space shuttle explosion. Our boys were 4, 3 and 2.

On January 28, 1986, the Space Shuttle Challenger broke apart 73 seconds into its flight, killing all seven crew members aboard. The spacecraft disintegrated 46,000 feet (14 km) above the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of Cape Canaveral, Florida, at 11:39 a.m.

The mission, was the 10th flight for the orbiter and the 25th flight of the Space Shuttle fleet. The crew was scheduled to deploy a communications satellite and study Halley’s Comet while they were in orbit, in addition to taking schoolteacher Christa McAuliffe into space under the Teacher In Space program. The latter task resulted in a higher-than-usual media interest in and coverage of the mission; the launch and subsequent disaster were seen live in many schools across the United States.

Much was made of the fact that Christa McAuliffe - the teacher - was on board. They made her out to be the woman who had it all - a husband - children - and a career. She spent the year before the flight away from her husband and children - training for her flight.

It made women like myself - stay at home moms - feel useless and without worth.

I remember one day several months after this tragic accident - I was at home - scrubbing my kitchen floor - while my three young sons were napping. I was listening to a tape recording of a sermon by a pastor both Randy and I admired. This pastor encouraged my heart that day. He said - “the world watched in horror several months ago as we watched the space shuttle blast off with Christa McAuliffe aboard and then explode in mid-air. We were saddened by the deaths of the 7 people on board.” The pastor went on to say - “some have made school teacher McAuliffe a hero. But I tell you the real heroes are the moms who sacrifice jobs outside of the home to care for their children - day in and day out. You mothers who cook and wash and clean and teach and discipline and do countless other duties each day without anyone seeing - without the world applauding you - you are the real heroes. God is watching. He will reward you in due time. Don’t grow tired of the role God has called you too. Do your mothering with joy and perseverance.”

I wept at the encouragement of this pastor. I wept as I cared for my young sons that afternoon. I counted it joy to stay at home and care for my household.

I don’t know if I’ve been a hero to anyone but I do know that several times in my life I have had the opportunity to encourage younger wives and moms in their journeys. Many have asked me what was my “secret” in raising my boys?

My answer to that question was - lots of outdoor time - lots of good food - lots of sleep - lots of reading - lots of sports - lots of music - (did I mention outdoor time - in rain or shine). Lots of prayer.

At camp Iawah many years ago - Randy and I were asked to do a parenting seminar. That was cool. I felt affirmed that we did a few things right.

The staff at Jacob Hespeler High School often commented on our boys - how polite and nice and easy to teach and coach. That was a huge blessing to Randy and I. The teachers often commented that they wished we had 6 or more children instead of only 3.

I once taught a course in Alliston at our church - called Mom To Mom! The young women who attended, loved it - took notes and applied the teaching in their own homes. Many of those moms still write to me and ask for advice or share stories of how they’ve put that teaching into practice in their own homes.

Heroes can be people we’ve read about - we’ve seen on social media - or - maybe - who live in our homes! I’ve often heard that it’s important for everyone to have someone who you can mentor and someone who mentors you - Someone who you admire and someone who admires you - someone who is your hero and someone you are a hero to.

Do something brave!

Do something good!

Do something new!

A MAN CALLED OVE (OTTO)

I’ve read the book and watched the movie. Harv and I watched the movie for the second time the other night. The book is called - A Man Called Ove and the movie changed the name to A Man called Otto!

In A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman, we are introduced to Ove, a grumpy, solitary man who has recently lost his wife, Sonja. Ove is a stickler for rules and order, and he is deeply affected by Sonja's death. He is a man of routine, and he is determined to join her in the afterlife.

Parvaneh, Ove's new neighbour, is a pregnant woman with two young daughters and a husband who is portrayed as incompetent. (we find out later he has a university degree). She is a force of nature, and she refuses to be intimidated by Ove's gruff exterior. Parvaneh and her family slowly begin to break through Ove's tough exterior, and they become the family that Ove never knew he needed.

As the story progresses, we learn about Ove's past. We discover that Ove has always been a man of principles, and he has a deep sense of justice. He has a strong moral compass, and he is willing to stand up for what he believes in, even if it means going against the grain. Ove's past is filled with love, loss, and a strong sense of duty, and these experiences have shaped him into the man he is today.

Despite his gruff exterior, Ove is a man with a big heart. He is fiercely loyal to his friends and family, and he is willing to go to great lengths to help those in need. Ove's relationship with his late wife, Sonja, is a central theme in the story. We see how their love for each other has shaped Ove's life, and how her death has left a void that he is struggling to fill.

As Ove's relationship with his new neighbors deepens, we see a softer side of him emerge. He begins to form unlikely friendships with the people in his community, and he becomes an integral part of their lives. Ove's grumpiness begins to soften, and he starts to embrace life once again.

Throughout the story, Ove is constantly reminded of the importance of human connection. He learns that life is worth living, even in the face of loss and adversity. Ove's journey is a testament to the power of friendship and community, and the impact that these relationships can have on our lives.

In the end, A Man Called Ove is a heartwarming tale of love, loss, and the power of human connection. Ove's journey from a grumpy, isolated man to a beloved member of his community is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.

As Ove's story comes to a close, we see a man who has found a new purpose in life. He has learned to embrace the present, cherish the memories of the past, and look forward to the future. Ove's journey is a reminder that it's never too late to start over, and that even the most unlikely of friendships can change our lives in profound ways.

At the end of the movie, Parvaneh (in the movie her name is Marisol) looks across the street and notices that Otto hasn’t shovelled his sidewalk, which is usual custom. By now, she has a key to Otto’s house and she and her husband run across the street, unlock the door, rush up the stair and find Otto slumped across his bed. He’s gone! His heart has finally given out. They also find a letter written to them. Otto has written down his wishes and has taken care of them and those in his neighbourhood.

Profound truths from the movie - - - - - don’t give up on the unlovely - - - - - look out for your neighbours - - - - - if you are the grumpy one, open up your heart - - - - - even a stray cat needs to be loved - - - - - sometimes things are not what they seem - - - - - take the time to find out a person’s story - - - - - listen - - - - - don’t allow differences to fracture a relationship - - - - - when your heart is miserable, it spreads to all relationships - - - - - God uses people to enter another’s pain to bring healing, hope and a future - - - - - when difficulties arise in life, don’t shut other’s out - - - - - don’t allow others to steal your joy - - - - - death and life are in the power of the tongue - - - - - hold fast to what is good - - - - - bless those who persecute you - - - - - live in harmony with each other - - - - - don’t repay evil for evil - - - - - cookies always work - - - - - smile - - - - -

It was Laura Jean Truman who penned these words!

“Keep my anger from becoming meanness. Keep my sorrow from collapsing into self-pity. Keep my heart soft enough to keep breaking. Keep my anger turned towards justice, not cruelty. Remind me that all of this every bit of it - is for love. Keep me fiercely kind.”

FAMOUS LAST WORDS

I was asked a question recently - “Martha, if this was the last thing you wrote, what words of wisdom would you share?” It got me thinking about people’s last words - death scenes I read about or watched in movies - all the family, crowded into the bedroom and someone leaning in to the dying figure on the bed - waiting for that one thing they will say before they are gone! The voice of the sick one is feathery thin - hardly there at all - but still has the desire to speak or write one last thing to his or her loved ones.

We have a whole life time to say things but some - most - wait too long to say the important things - I love you - I’m sorry - I should have listened - I wronged you - I need your forgiveness - You are the best thing that ever happened to me - etc.

Ella Mae Jolliffe (Kinsman) - my mother-in-law

I sat beside two women as they left this life to enter the next - both women used all words in their lifetime but both deaths were remarkable. My mother-in-law - Ella Jolliffe - passed away in 1995 with cancer. She was only sick for 6 months or so. A few days before her death - Randy and I went to visit her in Burlington and while Dad and Randy attended to a few business matters, I sat beside Mom and sang to her and read the Psalms to her. She dozed for a bit as did I and we both awakened with a start. Mom said to me - “I’m so glad Randy chose you!” She fell asleep shortly after that comment and never regained consciousness. A few days later Mom’s faith became sight - but - just before leaving this world - Mom - having been unconscious for three days - opened her big blue eyes - raised her arms to the ceiling - and sighed - not the sigh of one giving up - but the sigh of great anticipation - she had a glimpse of something wonderful. I knew at that moment she was entering heaven. I wished I could have seen what she saw. I’ll have to wait.

My Mom - Alice Lulu Castle (Fetterly)

My own Mom passed away in our home in 2021. She was 100 and a half years young. Ever since my Dad had passed away in 2007, Mom had constantly talked about her “Stan the Man!” She longed to join Dad in heaven. The few days before Mom died, her words started to become jumbled. She slept most of the days away and even in her dreams, she often murmured Dad’s name. An interesting thing happened just hours before her death though. She spoke very clearly - “Mom! Mom! I’m coming!” My Mom’s mom - my grandmother passed away in 1922, two years after Mom was born. My mother never knew her own mother and yet when it was hours from her own death, my Mom was calling out to her mother. Amazing. It was a spiritual moment for me.

Both my Mom and Mother-in- law were great women. They both were an example to me.

Here are ten “last words/phrases” - written to my grandchildren but they apply to everyone!

#1. Be Kind! To your parents - to your siblings - to your family and friends - to dogs - to the people in your neighbourhood - to the store clerks - to your teachers - to your co-workers - to strangers. Say nice things. Do good things. Nobody likes a meanie!

#2. Share! Your toys, Your parents. Your food. Your self! Your money! Don’t be a hoarder and keep everything to yourself. If you do - your life will be full of things but empty of the important. It’s way more fun to have a little together than much alone.

#3. Look people in the eye! When your parents, or grandparents, or children, or teachers, or anyone for that matter - speaks to you, acknowledge them and make eye contact. It’s rude not to.

#4. Don’t be a quitter! There are many lessons in life to learn so begin early. Learn to tie your own shoes. Learn to skate. Learn to read. Learn to play an instrument. Learn to make your bed. Learn to cook. Finish what you started.

#5. Life isn’t fair! There will always be someone better than you and someone worse off. Don’t compare yourself to others. Don’t compare your life to others. Some things happen in our lives that are awesome and wonderful and we feel we have everything on the proverbial silver platter. At other times, it will feel like everything is going wrong. Don’t even think about whining, Just don’t. Contentment comes into play here.

#6. Eat your fruits and veggies! It’s pretty simple. Eat things you have to peel, chop, sauté - 90 percent of the time. The other 10 percent - open the box, go through the drive through!

#7. Don’t be a complainer! Learn to rejoice in the simple things in life. Learn to be grateful. Learn to be thankful. Practice gratitude. Learn to thank God for all the good gifts He gives us. Everything we have is a gift from God.

#8. Colour outside the lines. No description needed!

#9. Hug and kiss - a lot! Show affection. Always say “I love you” to the important people in your life. Always kiss and hug your parents and siblings “good night” and “good morning!” Life is too short to be mad and grumpy. It’s also lonely Nobody likes to hang around grumpy people. Everyone needs affection.

#10. Take care of the needy! Harv and I were reminded of this when he had his knee replaced a few weeks ago. He vocalized so many times how thankful he was for me as he reflected on the time he was alone and wondered what he would have done if we weren’t married. You think of these things when you are single. Now - we take care of each other. There are many - though - who are alone and need someone to call them, texts them, invite them to dinner.

Yesterday - I met Indy at her bus as Heather was out with Adele. While we were driving to our house - Indigo said to me “so, did you write your last words?”

I did!

They probably won’t make a top ten list of Hollywood or great literature but they sure make sense to me and I hope and pray my kids and grandkids heed them.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU DID SOMETHING FOR THE FIRST TIME?

I recently went away for a women’s weekend - mostly because they offered pickle ball. The Pickle Ball sessions and the other sports were definitely the best part of the weekend. Don’t even ask me about the rustic accommodations or the fact that there was no running water for the first 20 hours of the weekend or that they served chili to 200 women the first night……DON’T EVEN ASK! One of the options I did sign up for was - HIGH ROPES! I have never - ever - done high ropes in my life - it would be something I would do for the first time. I learned how to put the harness on - I got clipped in - and the climb began. I climbed up the 12 foot ladder (easy) - then rock climbed up another twelve feet or so (harder) - then had to reach across the platform and haul my body up on top (definitely a challenge). And then I stood up. Another gal - Nancy - made the climb ahead of me and was waiting for me to reach the top. Our instructors - then - encouraged us to hold hands and lean back - trusting those who were holding the ropes to support and sustain us. AMAZING.

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself” —Franklin D. Roosevelt

The idea that fear holds us back, hinders us, prevents us from going after our goals and the things that we want to accomplish is something we all know well.

The question is, why are we still so hesitant to leave our comfort zones? We know the results tend to outweigh the fears, and we know that our fears are often unfounded. So, what’s holding us back?

There is a story in the Old Testament that I absolutely love. The main character is a girl named Esther. Esther was living quite quietly in the country with her uncle - growing up in the ways of her people - the Jews. Out of the blue she is selected to go to the big city because the King needs a new queen. Talk about leaving your comfort zone! For a whole year she was pampered and primped and primed before meeting the King. This is Esther’s story in a nutshell.

Ahasuerus, the all-powerful king of Persia, banishes his queen Vashti for failing to appear before him when bidden (imagine). The new chosen queen is Esther, cousin and adopted daughter of Mordecai, the Jew. Mordecai’s bitter enemy at court is the wicked Haman, the king’s right-hand man. Because Mordecai fails to bow before him, Haman plots not only Mordecai’s death but also the extermination of all the Jews in the Persian empire - (bad move Haman). Mordecai calls on Queen Esther to save her people - (perhaps you have been placed in the palace for such a time as this!) Esther heroically risks the king’s wrath by appearing unbidden before him. She invites King Ahasuerus and Haman to two banquets where she persuades the king both to save her people and also to hang Haman on the very gallows he had constructed for Mordecai. The king’s edict to kill the Jews is reversed, and the Jews instead get revenge on their would-be persecutors. They celebrate their victory by initiating the festival of Purim.

I love Esther’s bravery and boldness. I love her strength and courage. I love that she got uncomfortable. I love that she lived bold and brave.

Three hundred and sixty-five times in the Bible it says - “don’t fear”. There are 365 days in the year - one verse for each day we live. This is one of my favourites - 2 Timothy 1:7 - “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”Another way to say the same thing - “For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.”

I’ve had to do some hard things for the first time! Some uncomfortable things.

We moved communities four times when we pastored four churches over the period of 35 years. That meant that I left friends and family, neighbourhoods and our children’s schools and teachers and stepped out of timidity to bravery - meeting new friends, new teachers, new schools. It made me stronger.

When we took a sabbatical in 2009 and were living in the tiny village of Westport, I desperately missed my running group. I longed for a friend to train with. I noticed a woman running by our wee cottage every other day and decided to be intentional about meeting her. The next time I saw her - I flew out the door - called “hello” and introduced myself. Cathy and I became fast friends - ran together for the rest of that summer and fall - and even though we live far away from each other now - we have those wonderful memories of the summer of 2009. Cathy became a life long friend and I’m thankful for her.

I became a widow when I was 57 years old. This was something I did not choose. It was not the script I had chosen for my life - but through my grief and pain - I trusted God to strengthen my heart and to trust that His plan for my life would continue and I would flourish and my joy would be restored.

I went on a coffee date after saying I would never marry again. (So I was wrong - about marrying again - not the coffee date)!

I flew to Spain this past summer and walk 120 kms in 5 days!

I go to the gym 3 or 4 times a week and there are some days that when I look on the board at the workout - I wonder if I can do it - it’s hard - it’s difficult - but I always say - “I can do anything for 20 minutes!”

Isaiah 51:5…..”On My arm they wait” (trust)! I wrote these words several years ago and they still apply today regardless if my something is little or big - whether my first time is bungee jumping or inviting a stranger for supper.

I simply and entirely trust myself to the providence and care of God. O blessed hurricane that drives my soul to God and God alone. I must not dishonour the Lord by unworthy doubts and fears but be strong in faith, giving glory to God. I must show the world I live in that my God is worth ten thousand worlds. Now is the time for feats of faith and valiant exploits because I live in a world that is scary and weak and flustered.

First time activities don’t need to be dramatic or traumatic events - trying a new activity - baking cookies and delivering them to a young family - inviting a new friend for lunch - smiling at a stranger - the list is really endless.

I’m not sure what the next first time thing is going to be but I have a few ideas up my sleeve. First though, I am committed to getting Harv up and running again - (well at least walking as he’s never run anywhere in his life before)! I’m wearing my nurses hat - my chef’s hat - my chauffeur’s cap - my maid’s apron - it’s been a whirlwind week! (Harv’s healing well and quickly).

CHANGE OF PLANS

I love calendars. I love date books. I like writing things down - knowing exactly when I’m doing something and where I’m doing it. I’m pretty techy too - Harv and I share a calendar on our phones!

My calendar has a “month at a glance” section and also a weekly section. I write in the monthly calendar and then each Sunday afternoon - I record my weekly activities in my book and on my phone - gym (9-10) - pickle ball (Monday, Wednesday, Friday (1-4) - lunch dates - appointments - visits from the kids and grandkids - it’s all there!

I also love using different colours of pens in my calendars (you can’t do that on your phone) . Blue for the gym - pink for pickle ball - red for appointments - green for lunch dates - etc.

This week was planned to perfection - just enough in the days to be fun without being exhausting! And then……it all changed!

The phone rang on Monday morning! It was the call we were waiting for - the call that would set the date for Harv’s knee surgery - in two or three months! However, we were informed that there was a cancellation for Thursday morning at 8 am! (today!) We looked at each other and nodded! WE would take it. We had two days to prepare! That phone call changed everything for this week and for the next 4 - 6 weeks as well.

I was reminded of the Proverb that says - we can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps. I was reminded to hold my plans in an open hand and open heart ready to change at a moment’s notice.

Harv spent all day Tuesday - driving to London - having his pre-op appointment - driving home. I spent my day co-ordinating and playing in a pickle ball tournament - we both arrived home tired but having a sense of accomplishment for the day.

I started cancelling plans for Wednesday, Thursday and Friday! I also changed a few things in the next few weeks! I would be looking after my husband.

Harv did a a few chores Wednesday morning that he won’t be able to do for the next several weeks while he is recovering - check the hot tub - cut the grass - etc. I asked him if he could quickly wash the windows, vacuum and wash the floor too before we left. Duh! I asked him with a smile!

I’m thankful that Harv is getting his knee fixed! He’s had trouble with it for the last few years and had to give up hockey and pickle ball! He’ll be a new bionic man! He’ll buzz when we go through security at the airport! He’ll be able to hike the next part of the Camino with me someday! Or at least walk to the corner and back! He won’t be in pain.

I was thinking of the different hats I’ll be wearing in the next six weeks.

Nurse!

Maid!

Chef!

Grocery shopper!

Lawn Cutter

Chauffeur!

With the change of plans over the next few days and weeks, I’m reminded of the importance of knowing that life - and - all of its ups and downs, comings and goings, joys and sorrows, twists and turns - must be held with flexibility, calmness, confidence and trust. The opposite is holding my life and schedule with a clenched fist - that only leads to tension and pressure and anger and frustration. I’m grateful that I can joyfully say - ‘this is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it!”

If you want to do something together in November - drop me a line - my calendar is beginning to fill up!

TELL THE NEXT GENERATION

Last Christmas I received a unique gift from Pete and Heather. It’s called STORYWORTH. Once a week a question arrives in my email inbox - I spend time during the week answering the question and at the end of this year my weekly stories will be bound into a beautiful keepsake book.

The questions are varied - like - Do you have any particular vivid memories of your grandparents? or Did you ever take any great road trips? or What is one of your favourite holiday memories?

A few weeks ago my question for the week was - Do you believe in miracles? I answered that question with an absolute - yes - and proceeded to write about a few miracles that I have witnessed in my life.

I wrote about three of them - the first miracle involving a missionary family from Africa - the second miracle that happened to Randy and the third one - about a pastor’s family we knew of. This is what I wrote…..

“We had friends from Bible College who testified that this happened in their lives. I can’t remember their names. One beautiful Sunday afternoon, the family - the dad and mom and two of their three sons went for a drive. The grandmother, auntie and their third son were in the car just ahead of them. The whole family out enjoying a lovely Sunday afternoon. It would soon turn quickly to a horrific event. 

We’ll never know why or how the accident happened - whether the women were listening to music - chatting and not paying attention - whether the air conditioning in the car was on and the windows were up - but they didn’t notice a railway crossing and drove right onto the tracks - at the same time that a train was speeding through - their car was pushed several metres down the track and it was crushed. 

Our friends watched in horror. They rushed out of their car and ran down the side of the tracks to where the grandmother’s car was. They were devastated to find that the grandmother and auntie had been killed instantly and that there was no sign of their son. His carseat was empty. They raced up and down the tracks searching for their boy. By now, many people had gathered and joined in the search - as well as the train staff. Everyone was looking for their son. 

Someone yelled to come back to the damaged car. There - strapped into his carseat was their son. He was there now - but hadn’t been there minutes before. 

He was only three years old but he told his parents - “just before the train hit the car, Jesus took me out of my carseat and then put me back in when it was safe.” That statement was reported in the Toronto Star!

A few days after I had written that account of the miracle, Indigo and I were driving somewhere and I told her the story of the little boy and what a miracle it was. She was intrigued.

Interestingly, the other night at supper, out of the blue, Indy said, “Grammie - tell everyone the story of the little boy that Jesus saved!” I started into the story but she finished it. She knew every detail. She will never forget it.

It reminded me of the importance of sharing my experiences with my children and grandchildren because there will come a time when I’m not here anymore. That’s the reality of life.

When Zac and Pete and I were walking the Camino - I shared stories of my childhood - memories of growing up - especially about my brothers, who I was closest to in age.

Bill High says - “In our western world, we tend to think about the here and now - the immediate. It’s so much about job, career and taking the next step. There was a time, however, when people used to think beyond themselves. They had to think about generations - the people that would come behind them. Farmers would clear a field with the consideration that their children would farm it. Modern North Americans tend to consider themselves and the lives they are presently living.”

That’s opposite to what God says in the Bible - He spoke in terms of generations! Way back in Genesis it says “And God said: This is the sign of the covenant which I make between Me and you, and every living creature that is with you - for perpetual generations.” Further along in the Old Testament it says - “And the Lord said to Jehu - because you have done well in doing what is right in My sight, and have done to the house of Ahab all that was in My heart, your sons shall sit on the throne of Israel to the fourth generation.” Joel said “tell your children about it, and let your children tell their children, and their children the next generation.” In the book of the Psalms - I love this verse - “One generation shall commend Your works to another.”

I love these verses that show me God’s character. He is the Lord of history, the Ancient of Days, the One who weaves together the story of individuals, generations and nations into His eternal purpose.

My Mom was so good at sharing stories of her childhood and youth and married life. She told the stories to us kids and to her grandchildren and great grandchildren. Often, when we are together at reunions, someone often quotes a saying or story that my Mom shared.

It’s what I want. It’s what I seek to do. Live and work in ways that will long outlive me - building a legacy of good for those who come behind me.

Everyone has a story - sometimes good, sometimes bad and sometimes ugly - but it’s your story. Tell it to the next generation.

MARRIAGE ADVICE - MY TOP TEN LIST

I like Tim Keller’s statement regarding the husband/wife relationship. “While marriage is many things, it is anything but sentimental. Marriage is glorious but hard. It’s a burning joy and strength, and yet it is also blood, sweat, and tears, humbling defeats and exhausting victories. No marriage I know more than a few weeks old could be described as a fairy tale come true.”

Having been married now for 43 years - 35 years to Randy and 8 years to Harvey - I was recently asked to put together my top ten list of advice for married couples! Here we go!

#1. The Billy Graham Manifest - Don’t spend any time alone with a person who isn’t your spouse. In 1948, Billy Graham began a series of evangelistic meetings in Modesto, California, along with his ministry team, comprised of Cliff Barrows, George Beverly (“Bev”) Shea and Grady Wilson. Through a series of conversations about ministry life and its challenges, the group met together in Modesto and resolved to uphold the highest standard of Biblical morality and integrity. The group pledged four things but it is the second one that I believe is one of the most important things a couple should agree to. It has to do with the danger of sexual immorality. “We all knew of evangelists who had fallen into immorality while separated from their families by travel. We pledged among ourselves to avoid any situation that would have even the appearance of compromise or suspicion. FROM THAT DAY ON, I DID NOT TRAVEL, MEET WITH OR EAT ALONE WITH A WOMAN OTHER THAN MY WIFE.

#2. Learn your spouse’s LOVE LANGUAGE - There are five love languages - each one is important and expresses love in its own way. Knowing your partner’s and your own primary love language will help create a stronger bond in your relationship. It was Gary Chapman who wrote the best selling book “The Five Love Languages.

- Words of affirmation - expressing affection through spoken words, praise or appreciation. When this is someone’s primary love language, they enjoy kind words and encouragement, uplifting quotes, love notes and cute text messages.

- Gifts - For someone who resonates with this love language, gifts symbolize love, care and affection. They treasure not only the gift itself but also the time and effort the gift-giver put into selecting it.

- Quality Time - Someone with this love language values your full presence when you are together. They feel most loved if you give them your undivided attention and spend time together in meaningful ways.

- Physical Touch - A person with physical touch as their primary love language feel love through physical affection. Aside from sex, they feel loved when their partner holds their hand, touches their arm, scratches their head or gives them a massage.

- Acts of Service - These are nice things you do for your spouse - the dishes, vacuuming, putting gas in your car to name a few.

#3. Sometimes your spouse just needs to be left alone! There are moments in every marriage where it’s more important to just leave things alone and perhaps just do a chore for your loved one. No more words! No more talking! Everyone needs a little space now and then.

#4. Your home must be a safe harbour and an emotional refuge for each other. In our culture of so much stress - your home must be safe - a place that gives protection and shelter from difficulties, trouble and unhappiness.

Even in the business and noise of raising children - it is important that our homes give off the vibe of welcome and peace. It’s the place where both husband and wife always want to be and always desire to come home to. Our homes are to be the places where we pray daily with each other and for each other, where we can be open and honest and transparent with each other. Our homes should be filled with laughter and music and conversations.

#5. Don’t expect your spouse to meet all your needs. Both of you need your family - parents, siblings, nieces and nephews - to pour into you for love and affirmation as well as your spouse. You and your spouse need friends to spend time with.

#6. Forgive easily and quickly. Don’t hold grudges. Don’t go to bed mad. It’s okay to get angry. To get frustrated. To be ticked off. It’s not okay to hold on to the anger and frustration or to make our spouse “pay” for whatever has ticked you off. It’s not okay to keep reminding your spouse of past transgressions. Our example is Jesus Christ. He continuously and easily forgives us. He promises to bury our sins in the deepest sea but all too often we don’t live as He has taught us to. Besides - making up is a lot of fun! Kiss often. Hug lots. Show affection in front of the kids. They need to see that their parents can be frustrated with each other but more importantly - that their parents are affectionate with each other too.

#7. Have regular date nights! Get a babysitter and go out for a meal or a drink without the kids.

#8. Surprise each other. The gifts don’t have to be extravagant. Notes! Flowers! A Special meal! But they could be!

#9. Serve each other. One of Christ’s greatest examples to us - His children - is that He came to be a servant not a receiver. He washed His disciples feet. He healed. He taught. It’s what we are called to do too. Be a blessing and meet the needs of your spouse.

#10. Give each other freedom - to be themselves. Just as each of us longs and needs to be who we were made to be - our spouses have that same longing and need. A wise spouse will give this freedom. Your marriage will be stronger. Your cup will run over with blessings. Your joy will be full.

I’m so grateful for the blessing of marriage. I’m grateful that as a young, twenty-one year old - I made vows to Randy - that we would be husband and wife - together for life. I’m grateful for the years of growing our relationships through the ups and downs of our 35 years together

I’m so grateful that I was given the opportunity to meet Harv and fall in love for the second time in my life and marry again.

“Great marriages don’t happen by luck or by accident. They are the result of a consistent investment of time, thoughtfulness, forgiveness, affection, prayer, mutual respect, and a rock-solid commitment between a husband and a wife.” —Dave Willis

A Blessing on our Marriages and our Families

Lord God, heavenly Father, we thank you for instituting the covenant of marriage. Send your blessing on every husband and wife, that they may not provoke each other to anger and strife, but live peaceably together in love and godliness. Let each and every husband and wife receive your gracious help in all temptations and raise their children according to your will. Move us all to walk before you in purity and holiness, to put all our trust in you, and lead holy lives on earth and in the world to come enjoy eternal life; through your beloved Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one true God, now and forever. Amen.

THE EMPTY NEST

A very long time ago - almost 40 years - we lived at Prices Corners - just outside of Orillia. We rented a lovely home from friends of ours who were missionaries in Africa. The house had a wonderful deck at the back that ran across the whole house. The boys were just toddlers at the time and loved to ride their tricycles and cars on that deck.

The spring when the boys were 4, 3 and 2, a mother Robin decided to build her nest under the deck. We all watched - fascinated with the process and progress of those two birds - mother and father - gathering and building - until it was finally ready. One day as we peered down through the boards, 3 very blue eggs were visible.

The mother birds do most of the nesting once the eggs are laid and in about 12 -14 days the babies will hatch. After feeding these young ones for 12 -16 days straight, the young robins leave the nest. We watched all that magical month - first - seeing those beautiful, blue eggs and then in admiration as both parents worked continuously gathering food for those very hungry wee ones. Imagine our surprise when we checked one morning and the nest was empty. They were gone. All of them. Just like that. Infancy! Childhood! Youth! Like a snap of the finger. Parenting complete.

With the arrival of Labour Day weekend and so many Facebook and Instagram posts of parents dropping their sons and daughters off at university and college, I was reminded of the emptying of my own nest. Cue the tears.

The years of our parenting seem to pass in a flash. When an older person tells a young couple to cherish the time they have with their babies, the parents usually look back with a dazed look as if to say - “you’re wrong - everything about our lives as newbie parents is going so slowly!” But as the saying goes - “long days - fast years!” They speak the truth.

All too soon it happened for Randy and I. Our home - for many, many years - was lively - 3 sons meant lots of noise! During the boy’s teenage years, we lived in Cambridge, pastoring at the Warehouse. We had an in ground pool in our back yard! Need I say more! The summer months were packed with pool parties and bbq’s. The school years were full of sports, part time jobs and youth group at church. It was the best of times.

Zac was the first to graduate from high school and took a gap year! The next year both Zac and Ben attended the University of Guelph but lived at home. Short commute to classes from Cambridge. More economical as well.

Here it comes!

All three boys moved out the next year. Zac bought a condo in Guelph and rented the rooms out to friends and lived quite happily there for the next few years. Ben moved to Guelph and moved in with a bunch of his friends from Power to Change.

Pete decided to go to Queens in Kingston.

The week before Pete moved to Kingston, I went about business as usual, trying not to think about the fact that in just a few short days, our once very lively home, would be silent. No music blaring from the bedrooms. No drums and guitars played in the basement. No laughter in the pool. No basketballs pounding the pavement in front of the house. No empty milk containers in the fridge that “nobody emptied.” No dirty dishes left in the family room. No piles of clothes on the floor.

On the Saturday morning of Pete’s big move, we were all in the driveway helping to pack the van. Randy would be driving Pete to Kingston and because the van was packed to the gills, I would not be going. When every last bag was loaded - the goodbyes started. Brothers hugging brothers. Friends giving high fives! Neighbours calling out “all the best Pete!” When Pete came to me for his hug - he whispered - “are you okay, mom?” “I whispered back - ‘yes’!”

Then I burst into tears and said - “No! No! I’m not alright!”

The pain of an empty nest is real. The loss is great. I wondered if we had done enough to prepare our sons to live on their own. I would not be there to chat about their days and would miss the day to day routine of making lunches, washing and drying and folding mountains of laundry - and driving to the high school to watch games and pick up after practices.

The house felt too quiet. I missed the chaos and noise. I missed all the size 12 running shoes scattered by the back door. I missed smelly uniforms. In the days following the departure of all three boys, I found myself wandering in and out of their bedrooms. I was restless. I shed many tears. I felt listless - without purpose.

However…….in time……..my very sad heart healed. It took time but it healed.

I had many things to be grateful for.

Our sons all settled into their university routines quickly and efficiently. They worked hard, had fun and met new friends. They grew up.

We had prepared them well. We had done the job we were called to. We fed them. We clothed them. We taught them right from wrong. We trusted that in their decision making, they would be wise. We let them go.

It was Mother Teresa who penned these words -

“You will teach them to fly but they will not fly your flight. You will teach them to dream but they will not dream your dream. You will teach them to live but they will not live your life. Nevertheless, in every flight, in every life, in every dream - the print of the way you taught them will remain.”

It was back to just the two of us! And it was good!

MY SUMMER IN PICS

They say a picture says 1000 words - so here we go!

We welcomed Pete and Heather and kids to Kincardine in early July. So happy for Pete’s new job at KDSS as one of the vice principals.

Whether the lake is warm or cold, the kids love to swim. Lily pads are the best.

On a rainy day, the climbing gym in Goderich is a hit!

Amy and Steph (Konrad) and their babies (and Steph’s hubby) came for a visit. Steph and Peniel are missionaries and it’s always a delight to see them and hear their stories of their ministry.

The cathedral in Santiago de Compestela, Spain at twilight.

Hanging out with Zac and Pete for 10 days in Barcelona, Spain.

Jolliffe camp - Ben, Tracy and Tali - soaking up conversation.

Always - a trip to Family Fun Land for a bit of Go-Karting - Grammie and Delly are killing it!

Golfing at Ainsdale. Levi and Caleb have enjoyed their memberships this summer.

Love our view! It wasn't the time to move from the beach.

Cousins becoming friends!

Relaxing on the beach! Someone has to do it!

High up at Monserrat Monastery - Spain.

That’s a wrap on summer.

BACK TO SCHOOL BLESSINGS FOR OUR GRANDCHILDREN

Harvard Business School recently studied the correlation between team performance and the frequency of praise and criticism given to the individuals on the team.

“The highest performing teams received nearly six positive comments for every negative one. The medium-performing teams received almost twice as many positive comments as negative ones. But the low-performing teams received almost three negative comments for every positive.”

The results of this study clearly confirm that we all need to hear more positive comments. A blessing goes even further than the positive comments.

“The Lord said to Moses - Tell Aaron and his sons - this is how you are to bless the children of God. Say to them - ‘The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn His face toward you and give you peace.’”

Harvey and I have 15 grandchildren heading back to school this fall and so we offer these blessings on them and prayers for them.

Easton - (the oldest of the Jolliffe/Lootsma bunch) - you are heading into grade 9 - new school and a new community. We pray over you and for you that you will have the courage to take steps out of your comfort zone, trusting in God in whatever you do. May you experience God’s presence, faithfulness and deep love for you as you learn to live as a young man of faith. We know that God will constantly be by your side. Be blessed!

Sara - heading into grade 8! Your name means “princess/woman minister”! It’s our prayer and blessing on you and for you that you will be a spiritual mother to many and that you will speak the truth of God’s word into the lives of your family and friends throughout the coming school year. May you be strengthened to see the needs around you, have a compassionate heart willing to respond and have the humility to serve even in the secret and unglamorous ways. We pray that as God leads you and is a light to your path, you will be blessed with favour and peace. You are loved young lady!

Levi Stanley - heading into grade 8 at a new school and community - you’ve got this! It’s our prayer that you will use the many skills you’ve been given to spread joy and grace to everyone you come into contact with this year - whether it’s in the classroom or on the rink or in the gym. Your name is a strong one! It means that you were ordained by God to be a hard worker. We bless you with opportunities to put your skills into practice. We pray that as God directs your steps, you will prosper and doors will be opened for you. Be blessed young man.

Tali girl! You are also heading into grade 8 - your second year at Middle School. I love that your middle name means Rock! We bless you and pray that this year you will be steadfast, consistent and reliable - with your family and your friends. May you seek to intimately know your Creator and the Author of your story. May your story, which was ordained before you came to be, glorify Gods as you share it with others. Always remember that you are a part of the greatest story ever told. We pray that you will know your purpose which has been lovingly laid out for you. You are loved, dear girl.

Our twins!

Ainsley - you are going into grade 8! We bless you and pray for you that you will know how much God loves you. His love for you is so deep that He entrusted you with being His model in this world. You are gentle and kind - the littlest children respond to your goodness. May you reflect God to everyone you meet - teachers and fellow classmates - through your words, actions and attitudes. We pray you will be protected in your comings and goings this school year. You are loved, sweet girl.

Claire - heading into grade 8! We thank God for you and bless you as you begin this last year of elementary school. God loves you beyond measure and He did not design you to go through life alone. Know that you are part of a great big family - who love you and are cheering you on. Be on the lookout for ways you can serve others in your school this year. When you do, you will be sharing the love that God has given to you. We pray you will always use your compassionate spirit to encourage others. We bless you, young lady.

Caleb - your name means “faithful/bold/brave/wholehearted”! We pray for you and bless you as you begin grade 7 in a new town and new school. You’ve got this. We know that your classmates and new friends will be drawn to you because of your infectious laughter and easy-going self. We pray that many will be drawn to you as you let your light shine before others. We pray you’ll be faithful in doing your school work and honing your skills on the volleyball and basketball court. You are God’s gift to your class this year. We pray for boldness and confidence to face the challenges ahead of you this year. You are loved, young man.

Luke! Grade six this year! The oldest at your school - that comes with great responsibility. Your name means light giver and life giver and we pray you will be both this year - in the classroom and on the playground. You light up any room you enter and you have a great excitement for life. We pray a blessing on you that you energize your family and your friends with that same excitement. We pray you will be kind and compassionate to others this year - forgiving just as you’ve been forgiven. We pray that every good gift and treasure that is inside of you will grow, develop and flourish. Be blessed, Lukie.

Adele Vida! A new community and a new school for you this autumn - grade 4! Recently you were baptized - declaring your faith in God before your family and friends. We bless you for being courageous and faithful. We pray for you as you live your best life to the fullest. We pray you’ll grow in wisdom and stature and favour this year - with your teachers, friends and family. Share grace each day - offer forgiveness - put a great big smile on your face - and - always be a life giver to those you meet. We pray that you will be protected in your comings and goings - knowing God is always with you. Love you - sweet girl.

Ian David - heading into Grade 4! You are gifted in so many areas - and we pray that you will use your gifts wisely this school year! We pray that you will know that your life is incredibly important to God and that He has something special that only you can do! We pray God’s blessing over you that you will know you are protected in all your ways. We pray you will make a difference in your school this year. We pray that you will know you are covered with God’s love and hope. Be brave dear one.

Tyson - “wolf shield/leader/firebrand”! Such strong descriptions of who you are! Grade 4 this year! We pray blessings on you for this school year and pray that you will be wise and discerning in your class and on the sports fields. We pray that you will be generous with your time and energy with your family and friends. We pray you will be a leader and that you will be fearless in the new things you experience this year. We pray that you will have a compassionate spirit and be willing to help others throughout the day. Bless you dear son of my son.

Jacob Rowan Jolliffe! Grade 2 this year! We pray that this year you will be an overcomer. Whatever situation presents itself - be bigger - be stronger - be fearless - be a classroom changer - go above and beyond! We pray God’s blessings on you in your home - in your classroom - in the morning - in the evening - as you sleep and as you play. We pray that you will be filled with God’s favour and peace. We love you!

Indigo! Your name means - deep blue - it signifies a sense of stability - displays trust, loyalty and confidence. We pray for you that these characteristics which you possess will take hold as you begin a new grade (1) - a new school - in a new community. We pray God’s blessing on you that you will face all these new situations with grace and confidence. We pray you’ll meet new friends and have lots of opportunities to be a good friend - kind and helpful.We pray that your heart will be filled with love, forgiveness and confidence. Be blessed - sweet girl.

Nathan! It’s a big year ahead for you. New school! New community! French immersion! SK! We bless you and pray for you as you begin these new challenges. We ask a big blessing on you - that you will have a soft heart and quick mind - that you will be filled with wisdom and knowledge and understanding. We pray you will be loving and kind and compassionate in the classroom and in your home. Bless others with peace and joy. Love you sweet boy.

Last but definitely not least - our little Lucy! Everyone loves Lucy. Lucy is in preschool once again this year. We pray for you and bless you with a healthy year - no bad bugs! We pray you will be kind and a good sharer to the other children at your preschool. Be blessed, sweet child.

Write on your heart that every day is the best day of the year.

He/she is rich who owns the day and no one owns the day who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety.

Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities, no doubt crept in. Forget them as soon as you can, tomorrow is a new day.

Begin it well and serenely with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense.

This new day is too dear - with its hopes and invitations to waste a moment on the yesterdays.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

MY CAMINO - AUGUST 2-6, 2024

After planning for 18 months - more accurately, ten years or more, our journey began with an overnight flight trip to Europe - landing in Porto, Portugal and then a short three hour drive over the border into Spain.

For hundreds of years the scallop shell has been a symbol of courage, strength and hope for the pilgrims who walk the Camino. This shell is found on the coast of Galacia. We found a shell on the beach in Porto, before we started walking and then bought a shell on our first day of walking the path to fasten to our backpacks.

My backpack weighted about 14 pounds. At times as I walked the pack felt as light as a feather and at other times, it felt like I was carrying the weight of the whole world. I thought long and hard about what I would carry and really - I don’t think I overpacked. Three pairs of shorts - two long sleeved shirts to wear for sun protection - 2 short sleeves for evenings - 1 sleeveless for the last day - a towel and sheet - 3 pairs of socks - 3 pairs of underwear - my hat - shoes/sandals and water bladder. That’s it. Oh, a few products for the face and skin! For ten days!

It made me think about carrying extra baggage that we sometimes lug around and become encumbered with! Extra things that weigh us down! Things we don’t need! Envy! Strife! Unforgivenss! Hardness of Heart! Pride! Revenge! Selfishness! Jealousy! I’ve named a few things I’ve carried at times! What joy - what bliss - though - when that backpack came off at the rest stops - at lunch - at the end of the day! What joy to forever empty our lives when we stop carrying those things that weigh us down. It was Corrie ten Boom who said “You will find it is necessary to let things go, simply for the reason that they are too heavy.”

The beauty of northern Spain was incredible - farms - orchards - forests - rivers and creeks - ancient towns - fields - sunrises and sunsets. Because we were walking, we saw it all. We heard the sounds of sheep baaing, horses snorting, birds chirping, pilgrims singing, dogs barking and the ever clomping of our feet hitting the path. Sometimes we chatted, we shared lots of laughs, at times we told each other stories - other times we were quiet, our minds working out our own thoughts. And always as we passed another solo pilgrim or group - it was “Buen Camino”!

Five days! 120 kms! 175,242 steps!

Some of those kms and steps were filled with joy and wonder and laughter and chatter - but on day 3 - there were tears - (by Momma)! It was super hard. My right knee was kicking up a fuss. My hips hurt. My blisters were bugging me! I knew I wouldn’t quit but it was slow going. It was a 30 km day from the early morning (6:30 am) until 3:00 in the afternoon. Up and down hills! On paths of pavement and stones and dirt! My boys encouraged me. They offered to carry my pack ( I didn’t let them)! They made me laugh. I put my head down and finished that leg of the journey. It wasn’t terribly pretty but I got ‘er done.

When we arrived at our accommodations that day - the manager told us that of the 51 people staying there that night - we were the only ones who carried our packs. The rest had had them shipped. The boys teased me lots because I definitely judged those who walked without carrying their packs! They reminded me that everyone walks their own Camino! :)

Isn’t this just like real life. Some days - it’s all sunshine and roses. It’s a Mary Poppins type of day. Laughter and joy and peace and happiness. Other days - it’s gray - it’s windy - it’s cold - it’s heavy - a day you just have to get through. What I learned about myself on Day 3 was that I could withstand the difficulty and finish. It’s not in my nature to quit and I didn’t. Don’t you either.

I often think of Christian in the book - Pilgrim’s Progress - when he came upon the Hill Difficulty! This is what he said -

"This hill, though high, I covet to ascend;
The difficulty will not me offend,
For I perceive the way to life lies here:
Come, pluck up, heart, let's neither faint nor fear!
Better, though difficult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe."

Our final destination was Santiago de Compostela - a wonderful, ancient city, with the exquisite Baroque cathedral towering over the esplanade. It was a moment for smiles and hugs! We made it.

The words of Psalm 23 came to my mind! The Lord is my Shepherd. I have all that I need. He lets me rest in green pastures. He leads me beside peaceful streams. He renews my strength. He guides me along right paths - bringing honour to His Name. Even when I walk through the darkest valley - I will not be afraid, for You are close beside me. Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me. You prepare a feast for me in the Presence of my enemies. You honour me by anointing my head with oil. My cup overflows with blessings. Surely Your goodness and mercy and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life and I will live in the house of the Lord forever.”

We ended this fantastic dream of mine with a couple of days of rest and relaxation in Barcelona - taking in two wonderful, meaningful sights there - FAMILIA SAGRADA AND MONTSERRAT MONASTERY.

Oh, and after walking all those steps - we sat on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea for a bit and rested.

It was a journey of a lifetime.

MY CAMINO BEGINS IN 6 DAYS

I first heard about the Camino several years ago. From that time on it was always in the back of my mind that someday I wanted to walk all or part of it. That someday is next week!

Next Wednesday evening, July 31st, two of my sons and I will begin that journey that I have imagined and planned for for many years.

This trip was planned to celebrate my 65th birthday, my boys all turning 40 (Pete will celebrate his 40th next month) and commemorate the tenth anniversary of Randy’s promotion to Heaven.

Zac and Pete and I will fly overnight from Toronto to Porto, Portugal and spend part of the next day (August 1st) at one of the great beaches in Porto. From there, we have hired a driver to take us to Sarria, Spain, where we will begin our walking journey the next day. My heart is filled to the brim with the expectation of spending these days with my sons and sharing this incredible journey together. A shout out to Tracy and Heather who will keep things running smoothly at home while their hubbies are away.

August 2nd - Sarria to Portomarin - 21 kms

August 3rd - Portomarin to Palas de Rei - 28 kms

August 4th - Palas de Rei to Arzua - 28 kms

August 5th - Arzua to Pedrouzo - 21 kms

August 6 - Padrouzo to Santiago de Compostela - 21 kms.

August 7 th - 9th - Barcelona (we’ll tour Montserrat Monastery and Sagrada Familia)

August 9th - Barcelona to Toronto

Since the Middle Ages the Camino de Santiago or the Way of St. James has been a route through which art, architecture, language, culture and faith flowed across Europe. Today, this pilgrimage that was once thought to lead to the end of the word is seeing an incredible boom in popularity and the journey has become as much about getting to know yourself - perhaps finding answers to questions about life and family - seeking God for a renewal in your faith - as it is about exploring the beautiful surroundings.

It is only in the last few weeks - as my pilgrimage has grown closer - that I have become quite emotional (more than usual as you know I don’t hold back with feelings) about this trip. I have never, ever, done anything like this.

I will be carrying all my belongings in my backpack - a sheet to sleep in - a towel for the beach and after my shower - two pairs of socks - three shirts - two pairs of shorts - a sundress - a few toiletries - my water bottle/bladder! Tylenol! That’s it. What you bring - you carry. Will it get heavy? Yes! Will my feet get sore? Probably! Will my back long to drop the backpack? 100%! Will I persevere? Absolutely!

While on the pathway - we will sleep in Albergues. Some have as few as four bunks in a room and some dorms have as many as 70 beds. I’m not sure what we’ll find. It’s all unknown.

We will meet people from all over the world. I will treasure these conversations. Everyone has a story and I hope to hear many as we walk the Way together.

Along the Way, we will have our Camino credentials stamped so that we qualify as official pilgrims. One must walk at least 100 kms to qualify as official.

I have prepared well and I hope, adequately. A special shout out to my friend, Julie, who has gone on some long walks with me - encouraged me - challenged me - supported me. I secretly think she wishes she was coming too.

I couldn’t do this walk without the wonderful support of my husband. From the get go, Harv has been my number one fan - he’s been kind and helpful - booking flights, hotel rooms and excursions. Never once did he suggest this was a crazy idea. Never once did he question my sanity. I’m going to miss him. He says I won’t - that I’ll be too busy. He’s wrong on that one.

I read this just this week - someone else’s words - about the Camino.

Expect miracles…….because the path will rub against your soul, your faith, your past and your future and above all - against your body. The backpack will rub against your shoulders and shoes against your feet. So you will get wounds - but they will heal. Don’t let that distract you. Look deeper. You will be surprised that the wounds happen and pass away - but the miracles happen and remain. Both will heal you.

Ten years ago I wrote these words in my journal - just a few weeks after Randy’s passing. “Just as I am, without one plea But that Thy blood was shed for me. And that Thou bidd’st me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, I come, I come.”

God’s ways and guidance are perfect. I trust Him right now. I know God will totally guide me and satisfy my desires - even in the scorched places…and make my bones strong. He promises that I will be like a well watered garden. He promises that the ruins will be rebuilt and the generations in my family would increase.

I love how - ten years later - I have seen God’s provisions in my life. And as I head across the ocean to the very - very - hot country of Spain - He will guide me, continue to satisfy me, (even in the scorched places) and make me strong. I’m blessed.

BUEN CAMINO

MY DAD - STANLEY CASTLE

“Stan was a good man. He was a good man to start out with and a good man all his life.” (This from my mom)

My grandfather Castle - my dad’s dad - left England for Canada when he was a kid, (early 20th century) - a very young man and got a job working on the railroad working as a chef. When Grampa Castle was done working for the railroad and had married my grandmother, the family lived in Montreal and that’s where my dad was born in 1916. Interestingly, my father wasn’t issued a birth certificate in Quebec at the time of his birth because the family wasn’t Catholic. It wasn’t until the 1940’s that Dad was able to attain his birth certificate.

There were five boys and two girls in my dad’s family and my Dad was second born. Eventually the family moved to a town near Quebec City, Dana Cotta, on the St. Lawrence River. Grampa Castle became the chef at a little hotel there. The town was completely French and my dad was fluent when he was a small child. My Dad’s family moved from Quebec to Cornwall, Ontario and that’s where he met my mother. My Dad was 16 and my Mom - 12 - when they first met. After my folks were married they went back and stayed in Dana Cotta for a night or two and “what a ramshackle hotel it was!” They stayed there knowing that Grampa Castle had worked there years before.

My Dad was very active in his younger years. He played all sorts of sports - tennis, baseball and badminton. My Mom says that when they were dating, he only had time for Mom but as soon as they were married, he went right back to playing all his sports!!! Somethings never change.

My parents courtship began by doing things with the young people’s group at church. They went on a sleigh ride and I think my dad thought my mom was older as she was already in high school. My mom used to tell me the story of that first night. She was on one sleigh and he was on the other one but Dad kept coming back to Mom’s sleigh - knocking her off and then helping her back up. At the end of that first evening, Dad asked to walk Mom home but another friend was her designated pal to accompany her home. That was the last time that friend walked her home. From then on - “Stan the man” was there first!

Dad asked Mom on a date to the movies when Mom was 14 and Dad 18. Even though Mom had already seen the movie in the afternoon with a girlfriend she begged her mother to let her go with Dad. No kissing on that first date!!! But from then on, Dad and Mom dated every Friday night! I think that’s pretty romantic. Mom told me once that on one particular Friday night - after being dropped off by Dad - she watched him walk off the front steps, down the street and across to the other side. When he turned back to look, she waved, and it came over her that she knew she would marry him one day. And she did. Cue the tears!

Dad and Mom were married on August 27, 1938. They left on their honeymoon trip immediately following the ceremony and reception to Rochester and Syracuse, New York and Niagara Falls and Toronto. Their first home was 54 Seymour Avenue in Cornwall.

My Dad worked at the paper mill in Cornwall for 42 years. He started on the Bull Gang, the men who do stuff all over the Mill, wherever they’re sent. It wasn’t too long until he was on the machines, though, working his way up from the bottom. By the time he was finished, he was running the largest mill machine in Canada. The stuff goes in at one end and it comes out the other end as beautiful sheets of paper. “It was a mile long!” Dad began working for an hourly wage but eventually became salaried. He was well respected at his work.

Dad gave his life to Christ as a young child and was baptized at the age of 16. He and Mom were solid believers and were faithful to lead our family accordingly. We went to Sunday School and church always - as a family. Dad and Mom taught us to love church, our pastors and teachers and fellow believers. They taught us to love the Bible - to read it - to cherish it - and to obey it.

Dad was a Gideon. I’m not sure what year he joined this group but it was before I was born in 1958. Back in the day, Gideons were allowed to present New Testaments to every student in Grade 5 in Ontario. They also placed bibles in hospitals and hotels and prisons. I’m sure you’ve seen them and perhaps picked one up when on holidays. My Dad took very seriously the verse that says, “All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for reproof for teaching, for correction and for training so that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work.” (2 Timothy 3:16)

Dad led by example. He rose early to study the word and pray - before he went to work. I can picture his chair - his bible beside it - ready to read. He often went to work “under the weather” as those were the days before you had sick days. He had a large family to care for and he took his job and responsibilities very seriously. He didn’t take too many chances. I remember that causing some rifts between my parents. He liked “all his ducks lined up in a row!”

Being the 9th child, my parents were “old” when I was born in January of 1958. Mom was 38 and Dad was 42. My dad and I didn’t spend much time together. He worked shifts! It was a different age.

By the time the 70’s rolled around - my older brothers and sisters were married and gone from the house and it was just the three youngest now at home. We enjoyed lots of camping trips and visits to the “lake” where my sister and brother-in-law had their cottage.

I excelled in sports - especially badminton - and as my dad had played badminton as a youth, he came to some of my tournaments! I loved seeing him in the crowd cheering me on. He also helped me with my high school math homework because his brain was quick and understood the concepts. I didn’t.

I feel that when I became an adult, was married and out of the house that my dad and I became closer. We enjoyed watching the Leafs and Blue Jays together. Sports were an easy subject to discuss. We also talked about sermons we listened to and ways to live out the Bible in our daily lives. As an adult woman, I saw my dad’s kind and compassionate heart - especially for my mom. Mom broke her hip when they lived in Westport and he was heartbroken that she was in so much pain. I went and spent a week with Dad - at home with him while Mom was in the hospital. I remember driving back and forth to Kingston together to the hospital to visit Mom and he would tell me stories of working at the mill - of growing up in Quebec. In the evenings, we would watch the Jays or play scrabble.

My Dad loved food and he always, always, always, after each meal say “that was a good supper, Al!” He always showed his appreciation to Mom. I learned that lesson well - to show appreciation where it is deserved.

Dad and Mom lived with Randy and I for a short time before he died. They arrived in December and stayed with us until June. Mom used to rest in the afternoon and I would take Dad to the Cambridge mall where he’d enjoy a coffee and a donut while we watched hockey players on the mall rink. I loved those afternoons. He did too.

My Dad died on February 12, 2007. It was a Monday night. When I got the phone call, a piece of my heart died too.

I miss his smile. I miss his dry sense of humour. I miss his wisdom. I miss that the patriarch of our family is no longer here.

I’m thankful that Dad was a strong leader in our home. I’m thankful that he demonstrated faithfulness and love to Mom and us kids. I’m thankful that he taught us to love God, the Bible, and the local church. I’m thankful that he showed us how to work hard. I’m thankful that not everything showed up on a “silver platter” but some things we needed to save for. I’m thankful that he took my boys fishing and golfing when they were little. I’m thankful that he taught me to love and play sports. I’m thankful that on one particular, difficult Sunday morning, he walked into church - holding my hand and whispered “hold your head up high!” I’m thankful his name lives on with my grandson - “Levi Stanley!” I’m grateful for having him as my father.

“He was a good man!”

HAIR

Give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen
Give me down to there, hair, shoulder length or longer
Here baby, there, momma, everywhere, daddy, daddy

Hair, flow it, show it
Long as God can grow, my hair

Let it fly in the breeze and get caught in the trees
Give a home to the fleas, in my hair
A home for fleas, a hive for the buzzing bees
A nest for birds, there ain't no words
For the beauty, splendor, the wonder of my hair

My journey with my hair has been an adventurous one!

The story of my first hair cut has been told to me over and over again. Apparently - when I was four or five my Mom grew increasingly frustrated with me because when she brushed out my long, luxurious curly hair each morning, I complained and shrieked and cried and carried on. I was not the easiest child and one day she said to my oldest sister - “cut it off”! Voila! The bowl cut. Eek!

Elementary school - short hair! High School - long hair! College - medium length hair! Always long enough to pull it into a pony tail though. Colour? Sometimes - brown! Sometimes - blond! Sometimes - reddish!

It’s only hair!

I got it cut short after wearing it long about 15 years ago - just before Zac and Tracy got married. I loved the cut. I loved the streaks of blond in it. I loved everything about that cut. It was sleek and smooth. The problems began when we moved from Cambridge to Westport to Alliston and finally to Kincardine. Any woman reading this blog knows the difficulty of changing hair stylists - finding a new one to cut it exactly like you want it is a rarity.

I love my gal - Dom - in Alliston! What a gem. The first time I went to see her after Randy passed away - Dom cut and coloured and styled my hair for nothing. We wept together. We laughed together. And now - all these years later - I’m back to driving to Alliston every few months for conversations and laughs and a coffee - while she does my hair perfectly - just the way I like it.

The problem (first world) began about 18 months ago when my hair was cut shorter and shorter. (here in Kincardine - not by Dom). “It’s cute” the stylist said. “It’s fun”! “It’s easy”! It was all those things. I could wake up in the morning and not pay one second of attention to it - but it was a quarter inch long. Not sleek. Not smooth. Spiky.

Then three things happened last year to spark a change!

#1. A man bumped into the back of me and he said - “excuse me sir!” I turned around and said “do I look like a sir?” I was devastated. In all fairness to the man who bumped into me, I had a ball cap on my head and you couldn’t see one wisp of my hair, nevertheless I was upset.

#2. I sprained my knee and all the sports I usually enjoyed all summer long were put on hold. I went to physiotherapy two or three times a week and eventually was able to cycle and get back to the gym. No pickle ball. No golfing. No walking the beach. (My attitude was good though! I didn’t complain.)

#3. My brother, Ted, passed away after a very short journey with stomach cancer. We had been in Florida for the month of January and Ted told us he was not feeling the greatest but he thought it was a bout of diverticulitis. Ted and Irene went home early and after a few tests in early February, Ted was diagnosed with cancer. He fought it bravely but by the time it was discovered, it was too late. His body was ravaged by it. Our tight-knit family was grieved - once again!

I realized - once again - that there are a lot of things in this life that we can’t control - but one thing I could control was the length of my hair. I decided - then and there - to grow it long once again.

Growing your hair is a process. It’s slow and painful and most days when it reaches a certain length, it really looks awful!!!!

At the beginning of last summer - my hair was only a quarter inch long. Over the next few months - it grew longer and curlier!

The fall and winter were a different matter. I wore toques and ball caps almost every day when I didn’t want to deal with the crop of wildness growing on the top of my head! But persevere I did.

A year later I can make a tiny pony tail. My hair blows in the breeze when I drive my car. It hangs below my ball cap! I love it.

I totally understand that lasting beauty is not found in a makeup kit or shampoo and conditioner or a haircut or the gym or anything on the outside. I do believe that lasting beauty is found in character, kind words and actions, humility and gentleness. I also remember that many of the Biblical women that I have read about and studied over the years, had inner as well as outer beauty. I know that their outer beauty came from what was inside. My Mom used to say - what is in your heart shows on your face and demeanour. If you harbour hate and bitterness and a mean spirit inside - guess what will show on your face. Even the texture of your hair will be brittle if your heart is not at peace.

There is a story in the Old Testament about a women named Jael. (You can read her story in the book of Judges). She does a great thing for God’s chosen people! She won the war for the Israelites and Deborah and Barak make up a song about her! “When the warriors/leaders let down their hair in Israel, they let it blow wild in the wind and then the people come forward to bless their God.” The word translated as warriors and leaders is in the feminine. This song is about women with flowing hair - women in leadership.

As my hair has grown longer this past year, I’ve thought about this verse and felt the joy of my hair blowing in the wind - the feeling of joy at being a woman - a strong woman.

A scene from “Lord of the Rings” comes to mind as well. It is when Eowyn’s character is fighting the evil Lord of the Nazgul. The Lord of Nazgul, unaware that Eowyn is female, tells her “no man can kill me.” Eowyn takes off her helmet to show her long blond hair and says “I am no man”before she drives her sword into the Lord of Nazgul, clearly reminiscent of Jael.

I’m glad I made the decision to grow my hair long again. I feel different. I won’t be mistaken as a “sir” again. I feel more feminine. I feel the strength in the glory of my hair.

My long hair is my new super power!

GROWING OLDER

The story is told of a university president who’s wife developed Alzheimer’s disease. Apparently he quit his prestigious job to stay at home to look after her. He was out walking one day - pushing his beloved in her wheelchair - when a former student spotted him and told him how much he was missed on campus. The student told him that thousands of students, professors and staff missed his leadership and wisdom. The young man pressed the former president with this statement - “surely it’s more important for the thousands of us on campus to have your leadership than for one woman to take your full attention - especially, someone who doesn’t really know you anymore.” The student was bold enough to say to the man - “you could easily hire someone to care for your wife.” The president’s words have echoed in my brain for many years - “when I married my wife 50 years ago I made vows - I promised her - for better or for worse - in sickness and in health. For most of those years, we enjoyed better and health. I promised my wife I would care for her in the worse and in sickness. Now is that time.

I have made those same vows.

Twice.

Between my marriages - though - I did have moments when I wondered about growing old - alone. I sometimes awakened in the night and wondered who would wipe my forehead when I’m puking in the toilet. I wondered who would tell me I’m beautiful when my hair grew thin and wispy, my teeth fell out, my skin wrinkly and dry. Who would wipe my chin when I dribbled. I thought about such things.

I was tempted to be anxious about the future. I felt the darts and poisonous temptations coming hard and fast. I felt the missiles assaulting me daily. I felt the evil one causing me to doubt the promises of God - to mistrust God’s sovereignty - to put aside the truths that I had believed in all of my life. I felt those punches to my gut. I felt Satan’s desire to take me out at the knees. I knew he wanted me to give into these temptations and blame God. The devil is a liar and a cheat.

As always I relied on the truths of the Bible to sustain me through those hard times - through those times of doubt and turmoil. I was (and still am) reminded that - God is with me always - even to the end of the age - God gives me perfect peace in every situation - don’t get upset - don’t be distraught - I can trust God and never be afraid, for He is my strength and my song (in the night) - that God is involved in each moment of my life, carefully mapping out every inch of my journey - to trust God in every situation - to thank Him - refuse to worry.

My father-in-law, Ray Jolliffe, developed Altzheimer’s disease, after he and his (second) wife, Jean had been married for about 7 years. For the next 12 years (6 of them at their home and 6 in a nursing home) I watched Jean’s commitment to care for Randy’s dad. She cooked nutritious meals for him - she made sure he had fresh air and walks - they went to church and concerts and friend’s homes. When dad wandered away and he wasn’t safe in their apartment anymore - he went to live at a beautiful Residence for seniors. Jean went everyday for 6 years and fed Dad his lunch and supper. She cared for him gently and lovingly - taking her vows to Dad seriously. She was an example to me.

I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know if I will live to be 100 like my mom. I don’t know a lot of things so I’ll stick to the things I don know.

I’m loved and cared for by my heavenly Father.

I’m loved and cared for by Harvey and my children.

I’m loved and cared for by my siblings and nieces and nephews.

I’m loved and cared for by my friends.

After my Dad died - my Mom - lived in their house for a time, with my brother Phil and his wife, Gwen, in Kingston in a retirement home, back with Phil and Gwen, and finally in a Retirement Home in Cornwall. Things, however, changed dramatically in 2020 because of the Coronavirus. For the first time in her life, Mom had no family or friends come to visit, her meals were dropped off in her room and she ate by herself, she was alone - 24/7. Needless to say, as a family, we were devastated by this turn of events and needed to make changes. We were thankful that Mom could come and live with Harv and I. For Mom - there would be-

No more eating alone.

No more long days looking out the window at the wall of the next building.

No more days of not getting a hug or a touch or a caress.

Mom’s days would be filled with all the love Harv and I could give her. Her view from her bedroom would be looking at the Caribbean blue waters of Lake Huron. She wouldn’t wonder if the staff brought her lunch or supper. She wouldn’t lie on her bed all day long - unmotivated to get up. We sang to her. We chatted about days gone by. We read. We rested. We were with her.

Mom longed for Heaven and looked forward to going “Home” to be with Jesus. She looked forward to seeing Dad and Tim and Bill and Randy and countless numbers of family and friends.

And yet she lived. And she lived with us.

It was Ralph Waldo Emerson that said - All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen.” I watched my mother trust the Lord all my life - I watched her through hard times and easy times - through thick and thin - through grief and joy - I saw it with my own eyes.

Mom died on January 25th, 2021 - 15 minutes to midnight but she didn’t face death alone. No way. Sue and Phil and Gwen and Harvey and I - walked her Home.

I look forward to growing old with Harv. Together. Caring for one another. We made vows to one another and we intend to honour those vows - ‘til death parts us. Should I go first, I know our kids will care for him. They’ll make sure he doesn’t eat at Boston Pizza every lunch and supper. They’ll make sure he takes his meds. Should he go first, same. The kids will step in to make sure I don’t set the house on fire and will wipe the dribble off my chin.

I’ll never leave you nor forsake you.

TEN YEARS - RANDY'S STORY

Ten years!

On Saturday, June 28th, 2014 at 9:30 am, my life as I knew it for the past 35 years would change. Instantly.

It started out as a normal morning. Randy and I were awakened early as our “just-turned-three” grand-daughter, Talia, was visiting for the weekend. Randy got up with Tali around 6 and I rolled over for another hour or so of sleep. Randy brought my coffee in to our bedroom at 7 am as he had done for the past 35 years. Every morning, he rose early, made the coffee, had his quiet time with the Lord and brought a steaming cup to me - to sip while I woke up slowly, listening to the day’s news and sports and weather.

Over coffee that morning, Tali had her first breakfast while Randy and I discussed the plans for the day. Tali and I would head out strawberry picking while Randy would to go to meet his friend, James, for their 10 km run. We would rendezvous back at the house around 9:30 am for Tali’s second breakfast (our first) - pancakes and fresh strawberries. Later in the day we planned to take Tali and our golden retriever, Maggie, up to Colliingwood to the beach.

It was a beautiful summer Saturday morning. We kissed each other goodbye and said “I love you” and “see you in a bit.” Little did I know those would be the last words we would ever speak to each other on their earth.

Tali and I headed to the strawberry patch and Randy headed out to meet his buddy for their run. The early morning sun was glorious as were the lush, red berries. One for the pot and one for the mouth. After an hour or so, we had picked enough and headed home.

As I was unloading Talia from the car, my neighbour, Joan, came across the street and told me that a police car had been in my driveway. My heart started pounding and something deep down in my soul “knew something out of the ordinary had happened.” I asked Joan to keep her eye on Tali for a moment and flew into the house to call James. No answer at his home. No answer on his cell phone. I ran back outside and by then a few neighbours had gathered and suggested I call the Alliston police department.

I called.

The person manning the phone at the detachment told me that while Talia and I had been enjoying the summer sunshine at the strawberry patch, my husband of 35 years had collapsed while running and was now at the Alliston hospital on life support and was being prepared to be taken to the larger hospital in Newmarket.

I called my sons and it was Heather who was home to take the call and she reassured me that she would let Pete and Zac and Ben know. She reassured me she would call my brothers and sisters and everyone would begin praying for Randy.

I loaded Tali and Maggie into the car and drove calmly to the hospital. I prayed. I quoted Bible verses to myself - God is my strength, a very present help in times of trouble. In the backseat Tali sang “Jesus loves me this I know.”

Our friend met me in the parking lot to take Talia and Maggie to his home. His wife would drive me to Newmarket.

I walked into the Emergency department and a police man met me at the door and quickly whisked me right into the curtained off room where Randy lay - pale - hooked up to the respirator - eyes closed - hospital personnel working hard to save his life.

Normally, it would be Randy, standing there as the Pastor to our church members - comforting and praying. This time though, it was the pastor who lay unconscious. Who would pray over him? Who would offer words of encouragement? It would be me. I would be the one to pray over my husband and it would be the words of Scripture in my mind to bring comfort to my heart. I didn’t know if Randy could hear me but I reminded him that I loved him, that our children loved him - to stay strong, to fight - that the doctors were going to fix his heart and we would get through this. Then he was whisked out the door, lights flashing, siren blaring!

Randy never regained consciousness. They fixed his heart but his brain was damaged and it had gone without oxygen for too long. All Saturday and Sunday, the doctors kept him sedated to rest his body. They kept ice packs around him to keep his temperature down and then, on Monday morning when they took him off the sedation medication, he didn’t wake up. All week long we prayed for healing - that he would wake up. All week long we prayed that God would spare his life and return him to us as husband, father, grandfather, son, brother, pastor and friend. The elders at Ben’s church anointed him with oil and prayed over him and I was so sure that he would wake up. He didn’t.

On the Wednesday night of that very long week, I had a visit from Randy’s friend from high school days. Steve was a pastor in Bloomingdale and came to see me, pray with me and comfort me. I remember Steve making an interesting comment that evening. He told me that - if on the morning Randy collapsed, he had caught a glimpse of heaven and Jesus - as much as he loved me and the kids - he loved Jesus more and he wasn’t coming back.

The next day, Thursday, the doctors confirmed that there was no brain activity left and Randy would not live without the help of the respirator. My boys and I wept at the news. The pain was great. My heart was broken. As a family, we made the painful decision to have the respirator removed the next evening at 10 pm.

All the next day, family and friends came to the hospital to say their goodbyes. The parents of my daughters-in-laws brought our grandchildren to say goodbye to their beloved Grampie. Can you imagine my heartbreak as I listened to them sing with their parents - “Bless the Lord, O my soul” and “The more we get together". Sara, Levi and Talia were just three at the time and have some memory of Randy but Caleb and Luke were just babies. My heart was in shock.

The clocked raced that day but also dragged. The kids said their goodbyes and then it was my turn. I cuddled on the bed beside him, holding and touching Randy and asking God one more time to wake him up. He didn’t open his eyes and I knew he was moments away from seeing his beloved Saviour face to face - that his faith would be sight.

We had decided to have Randy’s organs donated to be transplanted into others who needed them. I was overcome with emotion as doctors and nurses and staff lined the hallway as Randy was wheeled from the CCU to the Operating Room. Twelve of us gathered to be with Randy as he left this earthly life to begin his eternal life - our sons, their wives, my sister and her husband, Randy’s best friend, a pastor friend and myself. We sang hymns and songs. We prayed. We sang some more. Then I said - “it’s time.”

We prayed that God would restore my husband to full health and strength and he was - just not in the way we imagined or wanted. We also prayed that when they removed the life support, Randy would pass quickly and quietly. He did. Eight minutes. And then five minutes more to say goodbye. One last caress of Randy’s face. One last kiss on his lips. One last touch of his hands.

My legs that could run 21.1 km couldn’t stand up and my boys carried me from the room.

I have no doubt in my mind that at that moment Randy entered heaven and was received by the Lord Jesus. I’m sure he heard the words - well done, my good and faithful servant - I have no doubt that immediately and for the past 10 years that Randy is enjoying the pleasures of heaven. I have no doubt that one day I’ll join him there.

I clung to the verse that says - So do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renews day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient but the things that are unseen are eternal.”

I know that nothing touches me that has not passed through the hands of my heavenly Father, who loves me and continues to have a perfect plan for my life. Everything I have endured, including the death of my pastor husband ten years ago, is designed for me to serve others more effectively.

If I was writing the script for my life, I would not have assigned the task God gave me - a wife without a husband - a grandmother without a grandfather, a son without a father, a father without a son, a sister without her brother. However, God knows exactly what I could and would manage. He taught me and continues to teach me to live in His realm of faith. God was not finished with me and had work for me to do. He gave me courage and continues to each and every day. I was not young, but neither was I old.

While my life changed on June 28th, 2014, Christ did not. He is the same, yesterday, today and forever.

LEAVE NO MAN BEHIND

The story of DESMOND DOSS and HACKSAW RIDGE has intrigued me ever since I saw it at the movies a few years ago. Desmond grew up in Virginia - he had a brother - a father (who struggled with PTSD from WW1 and alcohol) and a mother - who displayed great faith in God for herself and her boys. After a serious incident with his younger brother that could have been fatal, Desmond, took very seriously the ten commandments, including the verse that states - THOU SHALL NOT KILL. Desmond later joined the army as a medic and because of his convictions asked to be a conscientious objector - that is - he would not bear arms. The movie - Hacksaw Ridge - told the story of this gentle man with a great big heart.

Private Desmond Doss walked into one of the bloodiest battles of World War II with nothing to protect himself save for his Bible and his faith in God. Doss was a devout Seventh Day Adventist and his faith was very important to him.

The fighting took place on the hellish Maeda Escarpment in April 1945. The battlefield, located on top of a sheer 400-foot cliff, was fortified with a deadly network of Japanese machine gun nests and booby traps. The escarpment, nicknamed Hacksaw Ridge for the treacherously steep cliff, was key to winning the battle of Okinawa. The mission was thought to be near-impossible, and when Doss's battalion was ordered to retreat, the medic refused to leave his fallen comrades behind.

Facing heavy machine gun and artillery fire, Doss repeatedly ran alone into the kill zone, carrying wounded soldiers to the edge of the cliff and singlehandedly lowering them down to safety. Each time he saved a man's life, Doss prayed out loud, "Lord, please help me get one more." By the end of the night, he had rescued an estimated 75 men. (The always modest Doss reckoned he saved about 50, but his fellow soldiers gauged it closer to 100. They decided to split the difference.)

I wept as I watched the movie. I wept as I saw this brave young man pull himself up that 400 - foot cliff all night long - rescuing one soldier after another. I wept as I watched the movie and Doss continued to pray to save just one more. I wept at his bravery and strong faith. I wept when his commanders and fellow soldiers made fun of him and his faith - and yet he stayed faithful. I wept for all the lives lost. I wept that his conviction was to leave no one behind!

Desmond’s story reminds me of something that happened in our lives two years ago - not quite as serious as the situation he was in, but none-the-less - important.

Harv and I had taken a trip to the Netherlands with our friends, Jim and Julie - a cycling trip that would take us from Amsterdam to Bruges, Belgium. We would cycle during the day - about 50 kms - and sleep on a barge. When I say barge - think - gorgeous, updated, 5 star, fantastic accommodations and food. Each day two groups of 15 cyclists would head off for a ride through the beautiful, scenic countryside. We had a guide at the start and a “sweep” at the end of the line to make sure no one got lost or left behind. Our guides were from the cycling company and were knowledgable and kind and gave us lots of breaks during the day. The sweeps were “one of us.”

Riding sweep means staying at the back of a group bicycle ride, to make sure no one is left behind and to be their to help in case of any problems. This job was very important when we went through small towns with many corners. The leader would have the second person at the front of the line to wait at the corner until the sweep came into view before joining the group again. This worked fantastic all week long and we never lost anyone along the way.

After our 7 day cycling trip was completed, Jim, Julie, Harv and I had a couple of days to “kill” and we decided to rent bikes to cycle the 50km round trip to the North Sea from Bruges. We didn’t know if we’d ever get back to that part of the world again so decided to take advantage of being there. We headed out shortly after breakfast. It was a warm, sunny day. What could go wrong? There were only four of us to keep track of.

The cycling paths are amazing in that part of Europe and we followed the map - like pros - to the outskirts of Bruges and then through the rolling country side. We arrived at the Sea - late morning - the guys enjoyed a swim - Julie and I waded in the not too cold water - and we ate our lunches before deciding to ride back to the city.

This is where things go bad! I take the full responsibility for things going south!

Our bikes were locked together in the parking lot and three of us were ready to go. Harv was using an e-bike and had locked his motor up so it wouldn’t be stolen and since he had the e-bike, I decided that Jim, Julie and I would start out and Harv could easily catch up to us. It all sounded so fine.

The three of us biked across the highway and headed on the south trail towards the town where we were going to grab a coffee and biscuit on our way back to Bruges. When Harv was ready to go a few minutes later, he headed south on a different bike path towards the town but because of the high median - we couldn’t see each other. After a few minutes, recognizing that Harv hadn’t caught up to us, we decided to go back to the parking lot. No Harvey. What to do?

Harv cycled all the way to town and was surprised we weren’t there already.

After a frightening half hour or so - and Julie turning on her phone - Harv realizing my phone was on his bike - figuring out how to call each other in Europe - we got in touch with each other and waited back at the parking lot for Harv to join up with us there. I was super apologetic when Harv joined us - took the blame - and he was gracious in his forgiveness.

My bad! My fault. I’ll never do that again.

Only four us but no sweep! No one to make sure that we didn’t leave anybody behind.

So speak encouraging words to one another. Build up hope so you’ll all be together in this, no one left out, no one left behind.

I’ll be your sweep. I won’t leave you behind.

IT ALL BEGINS WITH A CHOICE

IT ALL BEGINS WITH A CHOICE.

I CHOOSE WHAT I SOW.

I have never been a great gardener but my Mom was. Her gardens were the talk of the neighbourhood. She planted her perennials so that something was always in bloom - right from early spring until late fall. Mom knew the names of all her plants - as if they were her children - and she spent countless hours in her gardens - pulling weeds - moving plants around - making sure the shade plants weren’t in the sun and the sun plants weren’t in the shade. She knew when to split the plants. She knew when a plant had run its course.

I love gardening and in the spring I eagerly await the daffodils and tulips to pop out of the ground. I love their brilliant colours but I don’t like that you have to wait to chop off their stems. I love watching for the perennials to flourish but unlike like my Momma - I can’t remember their names. And then - things get busy - and I’m golfing or cycling or walking with a friend - or pickle balling - and a week or two or more have passed without being in the garden. I’ve neglected things and weeds have sprung up everywhere. I have to spend hours at a time pulling those weeds but in every direction that I look, there are more and more and more weeds. So often I wish I had spent a little bit of time each day tending my garden rather than neglecting it for weeks and having to do it all at once. Balance is the key. I wish I had tended the plants and kept them safe from the intruders.

There is an obscure verse found in the Old Testament - written by a man named - Hosea - a prophet who called a spade a spade - so to speak. It says - “Break up your fallow (unplowed) ground - for it is time to seek the Lord - until He comes and showers righteousness on you.”

The word, “fallow” comes from the old English word for plowing - and refers to the practice of leaving fields unplowed for a period of time. When a field is unplowed, the soil is left alone to rest and regenerate but when left in this condition, it often becomes overgrown with thistles and weeds. The farmer should be careful to “break up” his fallow ground, to clear the field of weeds before sewing seed in it once again.

This speaks right to my heart. Action on my part is required.

I CHOOSE TO TAKE THE SEEDS OF TRUTH AND SOW THEM INTO THE SOIL OF RIGHT LIVING INTO MY LIFE.

First things first - breaking up the unplowed ground! Not literally but in my life. I need to address certain areas of my life. I need to break up the ugly areas. I need to get rid of some blockages that are hindering me. Things like - ingratitude - pride - envy - hypocrisy - a critical spirit - impatience! I know the weedy things that intrude in my heart and seek to choke me.

I am impatient. I don’t like it when people are late. I don’t like being held up in traffic. I don’t like it when others who are playing ahead of me on the golf course are slow. I don’t like getting behind a car in the drive-through line when I’m ordering just a coffee and their van is ordering for 7 people. Notice that all of the previous sentences start with “I don’t like.” It’s selfish of me! I must learn more about grace and understanding and then put those truths into practice in my life.

If you have a good friend or sibling or spouse or partner who will be honest with you and if you are strong enough to listen - ask them what things in your life are needing “fallowing”. You probably know some things already but it’s easier to ignore them rather than dealing with them. It’s easier to cast the blame on someone or something else rather than making changes in one’s own life.

Secondly - seek the Lord! I could never, no never, survive this life without my faith. My journey has always been an adventure with God guiding me through hills and valleys - through the ups and the downs - through marriage and parenthood - now grand-parenting and my “golden” years.

In the summer of 2015, one year after Randy passed away, I was eagerly seeking for the next thing in my life. I was 57 years old, a widow, wondering and praying about my future. I didn’t want to go ahead of the Lord but I also didn’t want to lag behind. I was teaching music lessons and fitness but I also thought I should do something with a steady pay check. I applied for some ministry positions but nothing came to be. I considered buying a B&B in eastern Ontario as I love people and food and I thought that combo would be great. But once again - there were stop signs so I didn’t proceed with this option. My Mom also counselled me to wait. Waiting, though, is not stagnant. Waiting involves action. Lots of seeking God’s word, lots of praying and lots of counsel. Very soon after this period of waiting and seeking - at just the right time - God used mutual friends to introduce Harv and I - six months after we first started dating - we got married. What a gift Harv is to me. What a gift to have a second opportunity for marriage.

It is God who brings about the fruit of the Spirit in my life - I could never produce them on my own, It doesn’t come natural to be filled with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control.

Thirdly - righteousness will be showered on me! This little verse that Hosea wrote thousands of years ago - comes with a promise. When I break up the unplowed ground - when I seek the Lord’s help - then and only then - will the heavens open and righteousness will be showered on me - and on you too.

What joy! What peace! What comfort! It’s there for the taking.

Mother Teresa wrote -

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self- centred - forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives - be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies - succeed anyway.

If you are honest and open, people may cheat you - be honest and open anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight - build anyway.

If you feel serenity and happiness, people may be jealous - be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow - do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough - give it anyway.

You see in the final analysis it is between you and God - It was never between you and them anyway.

IT ALL BEGINS WITH A CHOICE.