Eulogy for Maman -- Sept 2014

Docile Duguay

June 30th, 1949 - Sept 13th, 2014

(Read by Will)

A reading from 2^nd Corinthians chapter 4, verses 7-18

If you only look at us, you might well miss the brightness.

We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That’s to prevent anyone from confusing God’s incomparable power with us. As it is, there’s not much chance of that. You know for yourselves that we’re not much to look at.

We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken.

What they did to Jesus, they do to us—trial and torture, mockery and murder; what Jesus did among them, he does in us—he lives! Our lives are at constant risk for Jesus’ sake, which makes Jesus’ life all the more evident in us. While we’re going through the worst, you’re getting in on the best!

We’re not keeping this quiet, not on your life. Just like the psalmist who wrote, “I believed it, so I said it,” we say what we believe. And what we believe is that the One who raised up the Master Jesus will just as certainly raise us up with you, alive. Every detail works to your advantage and to God’s glory: more and more grace, more and more people, more and more praise!

So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever.

(Read by Jolaine)

In the wake of mama’s homecoming, I felt so overwhelmed at the thought of standing here today, and the responsibility I so heavily feel to honor her and her life before you today.

As time passed, God provided the message I am about to share with you loud and clear, delivered to me in three specific points.  The source of her essence and spirit, her true purpose in life, and the choice she ultimately leaves us with.

I’ve been witness to this my entire life – my mom was a legendary woman, evident by the glorious 65 year trail of life she leaves behind, filled with friends and loved ones who were drawn to her beauty, and evident by your presence here today.  She was known for her capacity to love without reserve or judgement, to forgive the unforgivable, to show mercy and grace, to find joy in the unlikeliest places (even French verbs), giving of herself without reserve to anyone she came into contact with...  with a strength and grace that was unparalleled in this world.  We all saw it, we all paused in the wonder of her spirit – it was as though her well of life never went dry.

On September 13^th, the day God called her Home, the message in my devotional for that day clearly described the source of mom’s well, as well as the reason it never ran dry.  I felt compelled to share this with you today.   Exodus 34:2 says “In the morning... come up... present yourself to me there on top of the mountains.”  As you know, mom was constantly fluttering from here to there, busy doing life, always in contact with her family and friends, always on the go, loving, living and embracing life to the fullest... but what some of you may not know, is that each of her mornings began in complete stillness, envisioning herself climbing to a place she called “God’s mountain”, to climb into His embrace and replenish her spirit and soul. 

She knew full well that blessed is the day when the morning is sanctified, set apart to God! 

...  That successful is the day when the first victory is won in prayer! 

...  That each morning begun so sacredly on the mountain would make her strong and help her carry out her purpose the rest of the day. 

She would spend an hour in His presence, praying, pouring over scriptures, writing pages and pages as she journaled her faith journey, quieting herself before God - not a small feat for a woman who so loved to talk and struggled to sit still.  (I am my mom’s daughter!)

The words in my devotional reflected this beautifully “That hour was like a blessed fountain from which she drew the strength and sweetness that prepared her to complete all her tasks.  It also enabled her to maintain a genuine peacefulness in spite of the normal, trying worries and pettiness that so often accompany life in a [busy] environment.  As I think of the life she endured, I see the absolute, [unquestionable] triumph of the grace of God in the ideal Christian woman.  She was such a lovely woman that I never saw her lose her temper or speak even one word in anger [ok, except maybe once or twice in my teenage years].  I never heard her participate in idle gossip or speak a disparaging remark about another person, [ever, regardless of the circumstances, even if it was someone who had hurt us deeply].  In fact, I never saw in her even the hint of an emotion unbecoming to someone who had drunk deeply from “the river of the water of life” (Rev 22:1) and who had eaten of “the living bread that came down from heaven” (John 6:51).”

A dear friend of mama’s, Jennifer Seeley, shared a meal with mama over 20 years ago in Sussex, and as they talked, mama told Jennifer that she couldn’t possibly have more joy, that she knew life to the full...  she told Jennifer that you could take everything from her, strip her life of all that she had, take her health, her family, her everything...  throw her in jail, and still, she would have joy, because she had Jesus and Jesus couldn’t be taken away from her.  Jesus was all she needed.

Dear loved ones, that is the true reason for the indelible mark she left on all our hearts...  Mama lived a life of pure and glorious devotion to the One that gave her life.  That is why we are so touched by her life – He touched us all, through her, because she had completely and utterly surrendered her life to Him.

Her surrender to Jesus gave her a perspective and purpose in life that was very rare in this world of “every man for himself”.  She often talked about the Five Love Languages, words of affirmation and quality time being the two she not-so-secretly favored, but as much as she craved to hear the encouragement and love, she also felt an intense responsibility to reflect them back to her Jesus, and not be tempted to keep them for herself.  This was a delicate walk for her, given the attention she drew in all her interactions and her renowned career.  She was forever making attempts to give credit where it was due, for she knew that without Jesus, her life would lack meaning and purpose.  Given that not everyone was comfortable hearing this, knowing the Gospel can be offensive, divisive, even mocked...  she sometimes had to preach it without words, but one way or another, she found a way to make it known.  To her, it wasn’t about religion – it never was... it was about relationship. 

In the song Legacy (Nichole Nordeman), a picture perfect description of my mom’s lifesong is described through the lyrics. 

As a gift to you, I will choose not to sing it for you, but instead, sharing only the lyrics:

I don’t mind if you have something nice to say about me...

I enjoy an accolade like the rest

You can take my picture, and hang it in a gallery

With all the who’s and who’s and so and so’s

That used to be the best at such and such,

It wouldn’t matter much...

I won’t lie it feels alright to see your name in lights,

We all need an atta boy or atta girl

But in the end I’d like to hang my hat on more besides

The temporary trappings of this world

I want to leave a legacy, how will they remember me?

Did I choose to love? Did I point to You enough?

I want to leave a mark on things, want to leave an offering,

A child of mercy and grace who blessed Your name unapologetically...

And leave that kind of legacy.

Don’t have to look too far, or too long

To make a lengthy list of all that I enjoy

Some accumulating trinkets and treasures

That moth and rust, leaves and dust will soon enough destroy

I want to leave a legacy, how will they remember me?

Did I choose to love? Did I point to You enough?

I want to leave a mark on things, want to leave an offering,

A child of mercy and grace who blessed Your name unapologetically...

And leave that kind of legacy.

Not well traveled, not well read,

not well to do, well bred...

Just want to hear instead,

“Well done, good and faithful, Well done!”

And that, indeed, was her legacy to me...  and to us all.  It was the most priceless treasure she passed on through her living example, one that I will continue to carry out in my own life.  She wanted it for me, lived it out for me...  but never one to exclude someone, she wanted it for all who knew her.  For her children, her grandchildren, her siblings, her extended family, her friends, her co-workers, and everyone else who came into her life.  It was what mattered most to her.

I have written many letters to my precious mama over the years...  some of which she shared with many of you. 

I have one last letter to share...  for such a time as this. 

My beautiful, precious mama...


I remember when I was little, sharing with you how I prayed that we would both pass away at the exact same time, because I knew we were so close that losing one another would be unbearable.  Yet here we are...  I wonder how I will keep breathing.

At first, it seemed impossible to imagine life without you here with us... 

It was so hard to realize, over and over again, the loss we would feel with each step, at so many points of our lives. 

My MIND WOULD SEE an empty place at the Christmas table, where you would delight in being surrounded by your children, grandchildren, friends, and any so called strangers you would welcome into our family when they had none to be with.  I’d ask myself “How would you want us to celebrate this without you?  How do we piece together a new normal?  Who will make your cheesecake in your absence?  Who will go to the ‘DollarGramma’ for the white elephant swap, or as Sebastien affectionately calls it, “torture”?”  In many ways, that’s how I remember you, surrounded, always, by those you loved, celebrating and always making sure everyone felt welcomed and included. 

My MIND WOULD SEE all the photos we have of you, and feel the ache of knowing how many photos will be missing of you as the years go on, each representing an event or moment you would miss alongside of us.  When the kids graduate, when they walk down the aisle, when they welcome babies into the world, we won’t have photos of those special occasions with your bright smile so full of life.  You looked so forward to going to the Outer Banks with Jillian and I, and to Honduras to visit with Bessy, Justin and Maryuri, and we will go in your honor, but will deeply feel your absence in the photos, the look on your face as you stand in awe of God’s beauty and live life to the fullest, the joy radiating from you.  Oh, how you loved photos....  and how precious few of you and I there are.  Yes, my MIND WOULD SEE how our family photos from this point on would always be missing someone – as though our family would never be complete again.  You wouldn’t be where we pictured you, you wouldn’t be here with us.

My MIND WOULD SEE the memories of you and I worshipping the Lord side by side, and it broke my heart to imagine not going to Harvest with you this fall at church, not sitting beside you on Sunday mornings, not reading devotionals with you and hearing about your spiritual journey and the things God is showing you, hearing about your Lay Ministry program, which the kids’ lovingly referred to as the Pope Studies.  They were convinced you were net in line.  I would miss not having you to talk about our favorite topic ever... serving Jesus...  Most of all, I knew I would miss you teaching me about Him in ways only you could.  You were only wrong about one thing, mom – I hadn’t become your spiritual mentor over the past few years, as you so often told everyone, including myself...  you had always been my teacher. 

There were things I wished I could ask you... What went through your mind as you breathed your last breath and reached out to Him?  Did you see the joy on His face as He ran to you?  Has our heavenly Father showed you the indelible mark you left on the world, the impact you’ve had, the lives you’ve touched?  What’s it like to be held in the hands of the One who created life? 

There are things I want you to know...  I’m thankful that you were here to welcome Jillian into the world... and that she was here to hold you as you were welcomed into Heaven. 

I’m thankful you had extra time to spend with Brandon and Joshua, especially in the past year.

You loved me fiercely, and loved me well, and although nothing can ever replace that, I know we both rejoice and thank God for the gift of Will in my life, I know it brings you peace to know that in your absence, I am loved as fiercely and as well as you loved me.  You’ve left big shoes to fill, but he has big feet – and he is able, willing, and honored.  I am thankful you had the blessing of knowing him, and that he had the blessing of knowing you. 

My heart feels an ache in the space where you once were...  as though I’m no longer whole...  a permanent ache that will linger the rest of my life here.  And yet, if loving you leaves me with a permanent ache, loving you was worth it.  You were worth it.  Someday soon, the ache will be healed, I will hold you again in my arms and rejoice with you – but by then, I will be whole and no longer aware the ache ever existed.  I will be Home.

And you know what, mama?  What I want you to know the most, is that while at first, it seemed impossible to imagine life without you alongside of us...  now, I understand why it was impossible...

It is not you that is missing from where we are, it is us that are missing from where you are.

You are living the life you were created to live – you have achieved the dream I pray for all my children; the dream that I pray for everyone -- for their lives to lead them Home to God. This was your goal, your purpose, so how can I not rejoice?  This was the way it was meant to be all along, but somehow, along the way, I had hoped to selfishly keep you here, away from the glorious experience you are living now.  

Rather than my heart noticing the empty chair alongside mine at the family table, I now see the seat you've saved for me at His table, and I see you showing me which fork to use. I'm sure there's about ten!  You’re there now, likely sipping a glass of Green Smoothie.  When I sit with you at His table, I’ll still give you all my mushrooms.  Just sayin’!

My heart sees no photos of you missing in God's family photos -- you're where He pictured you to be all along. We're missing... we're not home.  Our family will only be complete for the rest of eternity once we are all gathered with you THERE. 

Last but not least, my HEART KNOWS I’m the one who is missing from singing with the saints all around His throne, you are there, and I am not yet... but  when I get there, you will teach me all that I’ve been missing out on, and we will worship Him side by side once more. No more tears, no more goodbyes...  you’re still my teacher, and always will be.

I no longer see us growing up without you, I see you growing up without us... waiting for our hearts to understand what you've understood all along, waiting for the day until you can teach us about where you've been since the day you were called Home.

Your passing is not what we want in this life...  but what if we wanted the wrong thing all along?  What if instead of clinging to this life, we follow your example and set our hearts’ compass on eternal life with Jesus, only then we will find everlasting peace and joy, and only through Jesus we will find our way back to you.

“You will not return to me, but I will go to you.” 2Samuel 12:23

The world would be quick to say you’re an angel, but you’re not.  Nor did you grow wings or become a mere memory.  He did not pick the best for His garden – let us not be tempted to diminish your life this way, let us instead speak the Truth.  His heart in you made you who you are!  You are not gone!  You are not lost!  You, my beloved, are so much more – you are fashioned by the Creator’s hands, a spirit born of His heart and love, and returned back to Him. 

You are simply Home, waiting as you always did, for us to come and gather together around you.  Given how you felt about everyone being included, everyone being together, about living in community with one another and God – we owe it to you, mom... to you, to ourselves, and most of all, to God, to not be left behind, to really take a moment to consider the weight of your legacy, and to not forsake that eternal gift that has been offered only through Jesus and is ours for the taking. 

You left behind one message for us all, the one thing you ask all of us to do in honor of your life...  to choose Jesus, as you did, and to lay down our lives for Him.  I will pick up this cross and spend the rest of my moments left making sure everyone who knew you considers the purpose of your life and wants it for theirs, that everyone considers the choice you were given and the gift you embraced – the gift of eternity that is also theirs for the taking...  that everyone considers the brevity of life, and the sacredness of eternity with Jesus. 

When our hearts ache for you, mama, and all that your life stands for...  in essence, our hearts ache for the One you represented so well and His character in you...  our hearts ache for Home, where you’re waiting for us to join you.   We could close our eyes right now and almost hear that distinct “wooouuhoo”, I am here, who’s with me?

You’ve sung it with me many times, mama – no guilt in life, no fear in death, this is the power of Christ in me; from life’s first cry, to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny... no power of hell, no scheme of man, can ever pluck me from His hand, ‘till He returns, or calls me home, here in the power of Christ I’ll stand.

And so today, mama, on this sacred ground, I stand, loud and clear... just as you did... “As for me and MY house, we will serve the Lord.” Joshua 24:1

You are loved... beyond measure

You live on... beyond measure.

We are blessed... beyond measure.

J’taime buckets...

Bonne nuit...

Jolaine

(Music – “Home” – music by Nicol Sponberg)

What is it like to be held in the same arms that hold the universe?

What is it like to sleep on the chest of the King of heaven and earth?

When you open your eyes and look on the face of the Giver of life, the Author of grace, do you know?

That your days here changed everything

You're missed here and will always be

But you left here the greatest gift of all

Cause our hearts ache for Home

What is it like to breathe in and breathe out heaven's glorious light?

What is it like to be robed in perfection, no reason to cry?

When you feel on your face, your Father's kiss, his welcomed embrace, we prayed for this, you should know...!

That your days here changed everything

You're missed here and will always be

But you left here the greatest gift of all

‘Cause our hearts ache for Home

Twinkle twinkle little star

We will keep you in our hearts

Twinkle twinkle little star

We will meet you where you are

Your days here changed everything

You're missed here and will always be

But you left here the greatest gift of all

‘Cause our hearts ache for Home

With Love, From Ghana: Sweet Devotional

Back in the spring, I had written a devotional for our Compassion children and sent it to them as that particular month's letter. The devotional explained what maple sugar trees are, how they are tapped and how sweet syrup is produced. I included some photos that I had taken of the process from up close.

The end of the devotional explained that as a child, I had felt bad for the trees that "got hurt" (tapped), but that later in life, I had learned to see the entire process as a reflection of a Christian life. Jesus was pierced, He had to endure much hurt even though He was innocent and pure... but that in the end, it was through His death that we were given the sweet gift of life. Much the same, when we endure hardships and difficulties, those very hardships and that process can be used to glorify God and bring the sweetest of treasures. Example, the life of Joseph (and the multicolored coat).

Ato Sam was the first to respond to the devotional. In his letter dated Aug 29th, 2011, he shared:

"He says he thanks you for the maple tree which show how the liquid were collected.

He says you always encouraged him through your letters. He says at first, he was not getting what you are trying to say, but now you have made [sense]. He says he has learnt a lot from the maple tree's story. He says he has understood that sometimes, you need to go into difficulties then God will raise into Glory. He says the first day that he heard the story of Joseph, he became very sad. He says he did not understand why should Joseph suffer while God is with him. He says finally God used pains and the bad condition that Joseph was in to bring glory to God.

He says he believes God loves you so much that is why he has made you like Joseph. Ato says you taught him a lot and God bless you."

Your letters to your child are priceless -- never underestimate the impact you can have by simply sharing your spiritual walk with them, and discussing what God is teaching you. Grow in Him, together.

If you would like a copy of this Maple Syrup Devotional, or if you're not sure what to write to your child or how to get the conversation going, and you'd like a sample of a typical Compassion letter sent to our Compassion children, please don't hesitate to ask -- jd@beyondmeasure.me

For more letter writing ideas and to join other sponsors in their sponsorship experiences, join us at OurCompassion.Org!

River of Redemption

In the beginning, I ran ahead and skipped down the path, blissfully unaware of the impending weight of my vow. Seems ironic perhaps that the God who warns the world against this choice would have also protected me from His warning and of knowing the weight of the choice, lest I forgo the journey before it even began.

He knew.

Yet here I stand on this path, the years of this journey creeping painstakingly to the halfway mark of my life, the road behind me torn between the picture perfect redemption of God, and the ravaged rubble of human nature. All one needs to do is tilt the angle of perception to see the contrasting views.

You can glance back to gain wisdom, but you must keep walking forward in faith.

His provision is faithfully present at each morning milestone, the mystery of spiritual sustenance that brings with it the daily dawn of hope. It is there for the taking, always enough provided you greet it with gratitude and partake in it with praise.

The ground under my feet is parched and scorched by the heat of the fires that have tested the foundations of faith.

The further in time along the journey, the more the width of the gates narrow at each turn, filtering out a number of travelers in direct proportion to the size of the gates. The smaller the size, the less one can see past the gate. Blessed are they who see through the eyes of peace in Him, they won’t be held back by the difficult passage...

They shall enter further into the... desert?

Yes.

Consider it joy to be here.

The God who promised to lead me to still waters knows that I have watched the river alongside my path dwindle down to a trickle so faint. It is I who needs to be still in order for my ocean of faith to be heard above the roar of voices saying “flee from the drought, flee from the famine lest you perish right here alongside this dying stream, the life sucked out of you.”

The one who brought me here is the one who breathes life into me. Life cannot be sucked out of you but from the enemy.

God has brought me alongside this dying stream for a purpose. He knows that even though my body is resting wearily where He has placed me on the dry shore, my faith is quenched by Living Water, and I hunger only for Him.

He alone is sufficient for me.

No, He has not brought me here to die or to suffer, He has brought me here to refine my faith as in the days of Elijah the prophet.

He has brought me here not to be destroyed by the battle, but to provide for me a front row seat to witness His hand at work, just as He did for Jehosaphat.

In this world of rushing around obstacles with impatience, being content in the stillness and through the trials can seem so foreign and unsettling; uncomfortable, inconvenient. His ways are not our ways.

He has commanded me to be still and believe in what the world cannot see but through the filter of faith that puts God between itself and any circumstance.

The journey here has filtered my eyesight -- my focus is clear.

I am here to stay until He moves me, waiting patiently for God as He prepares the river of redemption He has promised me.

Isaiah 35 ** 1 Kings 17 ** Isaiah 40:28-31 ** James 1:12 ** 2 Chron 20:15-17 ** Joel 2:25

Never Underestimate

It has been said that the words can build up or destroy, that the tongue has the power of life and death. In one sentence, we hold the choice to criticize and condemn, or encourage and uplift.

Since words are a reflection of the contents of our hearts, if our words do not point to Him, perhaps it is wiser to silence ourselves until our hearts are changed lest we are held accountable to the destruction we will cause -- seen or unseen.

It's not unthinkable that our words and lives may be the most powerful resource we have as witnesses to Christ. What do our words say about Who we serve? Who do they point to, ourselves, or Him?

By using words that honor Him, we are a light in this broken world, a positive difference that builds up, encourages, teaches and leads. It's much more than words, but how we live our lives -- words not lived are empty words.

Ato Sam, our Compassion son from Ghana, beautifully illustrated how crucial words are to every relationship we're entrusted with. In the letter we received from him tonight (another 6 pages!), he shares the following treasure:

"He said that he thanks God for not allowing your enemy to overcome you. He says he was astonished about what you have told him. He says that this shows him that God truly exists. Ato adds that he now knows that with God, all thing are possible and he would join you in battle to win over the enemy."

Not allowing satan to overcome me, not giving in to fear and disbelief... caused a boy on the other side of the world to believe that God truly exists. There was no way of knowing that what God led me to share with Ato Sam in my letter to him would present itself as proof that He exists...

Now, how will I find the words to tell him how blessed I am that the heart and life of a child of such tender years, a child I haven't yet met, has helped shape my life and encouraged and fueled my faith? I have only known this ten year old boy through his words, and I feel a great responsibility to let him know that his words have had a tremendous impact on me, that through his words, my life has been changed for the better, my faith has been fueled, my love has grown...

God will give me the words Ato Sam needs to hear. Again. He has, and will continue to do so. I must simply continue to seek Him and surrender to Him.




How have you used your words to heal, to uplift, to share Christ, to give joy today?

Hope Unfolding

Springtime takes my breath away.

Given the harshness of Canadian winters
and the knowledge
that these delicate plants
are subjected to the unforgiving elements all winter long...

It isn't lost on me that come Easter, like HOPE unfolding,

they rise in worship to the One who has risen to give us hope.

May our harshest seasons never discourage us from seeing HOPE unfolding.

Eternal Nesting

The emotional intensity of the adoption journey had recently been replaced with a calm period of time, a calm that soothed the spirit and brought peace, a stillness much appreciated.

The all too brief stillness has given way to restlessness. I immediately knew it felt different from the intensity of the past few months, a different kind of urgency, but I didn't understand why right away. I couldn't explain it.

Reaching out to a few close friends, I began to recognize the familiar in the unfamiliar... this restlessness, this new sensation, was one I had felt before, long ago.

It was the urge to do something, to mark the time in significant ways, the urge to move forward in preparation.

Nesting.

An urge that animals and humans have by instinct to prepare a home for the upcoming arrival of their newborn(s).

It left me dumbfounded.


The only experience I had as a mother was in preparing for newborns, babies, and for the most part, I had the advantage of knowing when the time would come, what I would need, and how to prepare.

How do you prepare for a child who won't be needing a crib or a car seat, a child whose size and age you won't know until the day comes, a child whose homecoming is so... nebulous?

When I was pregnant with Jillian, I began to put together the nursery with an urgency in mid-July. She wasn't due until late October... but my spirit knew, my heart knew.


Jillian was born five weeks earlier than her anticipated due date.


Nesting is a preparation for what's to come. I think of a nest, and I think of home, comfort, protection, nurturing, love.

Nesting also brings to mind sparrows and God's promise that we are more valuable to Him than these, and yet His eyes are on the sparrow at all times, and when sparrows made nests in the temple, they weren't turned away. God welcomed them into His presence. So how much more than this must God welcome us into His presence?

³ Even the sparrow has found a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may have her young—
a place near your altar,
LORD Almighty, my King and my God. (Psalm 84:3)

What was significant about sparrows building nests in the temple? The sparrows were only doing what they did by nature; preparing a nest, laying eggs, taking care of the eggs, raising her babies, singing in worship... but all of this was done in the presence of God. Near the altar of the Lord Almighty.

Just as we long to welcome this child into our presence and into our family, God longs to draw us into His presence and His family. He too is nesting. He wants us Home, and as such, He is always preparing our hearts for our homecoming and preparing a place for us in His Heavenly Home.

What a beautiful picture of God the Father, restlessly nesting to bring His adopted children home.



While our hearts are being prepared, both for our homecoming and for our child's homecoming, I find comfort in trusting my God-given instincts. Nesting comes near the impending arrival, at a time when the long wait bears fruit.


She'll be home soon.


Soon, the days that seemed like thousands will turn into a thousand that seems like one.



We are choosing to wait until she's home to completely makeover the room that she and Jillian will share. This will give her ownership and help her feel included, and it will be a bonding experience all around. We're choosing to wait until she's home to purchase clothes, we don't know yet what she'll need or what she'd prefer, and the fun of shopping together will be yet another positive experience.


There is little else to do.


We certainly won't be needing these for a five year old...




Or this....




There is something she'll need, though, something so important that it is the very first thing I chose to purchase for her. This one-size-fits-all treasure will help us in this journey, bring comfort through the transition, and it will do what the sparrows of the temple did... it will prepare a nest close to His altar, close to His presence, preparing our hearts for our ultimate Homecoming.

Just like her big sister's.




As several close friends suggested, I'll also begin to write letters to her regularly until we welcome her home, a way to journal my heart as the day approaches. Someday, I will give those to her to let her know how much we longed for her and loved her, long before she came home to us.

In similar ways, God provided letters to us in His gift of the Bible, showing us that He longed for us and loved us, long before we come Home to Him.

Celebrating The Unseen

Six years ago, I was preparing for a job interview with a company I had worked with for 8 years in the past. It should have been simple; it was basically the same position I had when I was employed with them years ago. I was very familiar with the company and the particulars of this job.

I went in, did the best I could given their very irrelevant interview style, and hoped for the best.



A few weeks later, I received a letter in the mail stating that while they appreciated my interest in my old job, they had chosen an applicant with more experience.


More experience than someone who had already done this job? How is that possible?


I had been out of work for several years, and we knew that we couldn’t keep living on one income much longer. This job would have been such an answer to prayer, such an immense blessing. And yet, that door had clearly closed for reasons we struggled to understand.


The kids were young; 3, 6 and 8. I stood at the door, rejection letter in hand, and called out for the kids to get ready to go for a drive.

I had a pocket full of change, and given how much we were struggling financially at the time, it may as well have been $1000. The thought briefly crossed my mind to put it toward something of longer lasting value, but I knew that although this outing would cost me a few precious dollars, the opportunity to teach the kids about faith and God would be priceless.


“Where are we going, Mommy?”

The Master's Symphony

The master holds an instrument in His hands... He has a song to play, a perfect song. He chooses just the instrument for this song he has written, an instrument he will use to play the song through.

If the instrument he chooses is not in tune to His song, the quality of the song will be greatly affected. Consider a guitar missing a string, or a violin with strings that have not been tuned... consider a piano with broken hammers, or a clarinet without a reed... consider how different the song will sound from what’s intended!

A Little Is Much

I loved every season as a little girl, but especially summer. My mom was a school teacher, and every summer, I looked forward to shadowing her as she went about her daily routine.

My mom was always up at the crack of dawn. To this day, she isn't capable of sleeping in. In order to make the best of the sunshine, she would set out to hang a load of clothes up on the clothesline early in the morning. The sun rose on the front side of the house, and as the clothes were hung one by one, the backyard seemed to stay suspended in shaded slumber, waiting for the second sunrise. The laundry would be ready and waiting when the sun peeked over the roof line and warmed up the world that stood waiting behind our house.

I'd wander outside with her, usually wearing my threadbare nightgown. If she was late getting the laundry out, you'd usually find me in my beloved blue jean overalls with the Pink Panther patch, and a pale butter cream yellow zip up hoodie. Barefoot, always. Sometimes, I'd tiptoe in the grass still heavy with dew, and crouch down to closely examine the patterns of the spiderwebs and the way the dew would highlight the silk threads with tiny dots. The rest of the time, I would perch myself on the deck and hand my mom the clothespins while she hung the clothes.

I remember the smell of the clean, wet laundry as it was lifted out of the basket and onto the clothesline. Tide. She always used Tide, and still does. I preferred the way it smelled once the sun had finished drying it au naturel... I can close my eyes right now and hear the sound of the crisp sheets flapping in the breeze and the rusty squeak of the clothesline reel as it bore the weight of the clothes. In my mind, I can still feel the stiffness of the clothes and towels as they were dropped back into the waiting basket. I loved that even though I was too small to carry the basket of wet laundry out to the clothesline, I could always help carry it back into the house once it was dry.


It always seemed neat to me that the original pile was heavier and smaller, but the final outcome was lighter and seemed to take up more room.


I used to imagine that it was the volume of the sunlight and love pouring into the laundry that made it expand that way.


Kind of like when the Son pours into us, we feel lighter, and life becomes more full.


Nothing from these memories compares to snuggling up to my mom on the clothesline deck and inhaling the scent of her flannel pajamas... the smell of fabric softener on her pajamas was intoxicating. I couldn't get enough, and I couldn't resist sinking my face into her pajamas as I hugged her for as long as I could. Sometimes, I'd just hug her leg as she hung laundry. I remember hugging her leg as she tried to walk around the house and do her chores. If I could have, I would have breathed her in so that I could carry her around within me all day long.

I don't think I could have possibly loved my mom more.


Although we don't use fabric softener now because I've grown an intolerance to scented products, I can perfectly describe the scent to you. It has a Hug scent to it. I'll never grow an intolerance to that. The hug scent is permanently engraved in the memory of my heart.





It might be the little things, but in the math of life, it's the little things that aren't so little.


A little is much.









It was my love for her that modeled my love for God. It is now my love for God that models my love for my mother.



My love for her even then, pales in comparison to my love for God today. In my childhood, she was the center of my world, even though I had an awareness of God. Now, He is the center of my world even though I have an awareness of her.




Let's rewind back to my childhood, and adapt that memory to how I feel today...

I loved every season as a little girl, but especially summer. God was always there, but in the summers, He would provided me with some of my favorite ways to spend time with Him. The sun would rise early, and He'd be there, waiting for me to shadow Him as He led me through my day.

God was always there to greet me every morning. Even though sometimes I didn't want to sleep for fear that I will miss some time with Him, He would stand guard at night and there was never a lapse of time without Him present. God never slept in order to make the best of every opportunity. Our faith should also never sleep.

As I followed my mother outside as she prepared to hang the laundry, I was greeted with another glorious sunrise that warmed my face as I wondered how He felt when He painted the skies with hues of pinks and blues in various intensities... never making the same morning sky twice. Every work of His was an original.

The backyard seemed to stay suspended in shaded slumber, slowly unfolding as the earth warmed up in worship to the Creator. I would look over the backyard and imagine it breaking out into praise as the Son rose to shine upon it.

I'd wander outside with my mother, eagerly anticipating to discover the world in a whole new way. My clothing would still be plain, familiar, well worn and threadbare, but it still wouldn't matter to me. Barefoot, always. I'd walk softly through the grass still heavy with dew, and I'd lean closer to examine the way God used His imagination to create a creature so small that could weave such masterpieces so intricately... each one unique and special. I would smile as I imagined God creating dew each night as jewels to decorate the webs with... each drop perched perfectly on the thinnest of silk threads. I would struggle to keep from exploring more of His creations, eventually perching myself on the deck and marveling with my mother that the same God who invented everything around us, loves us even more than a mother loves her child, or a child loves her mother.

I'd watch her hang clothes on the clothesline, remarking the differences between the wet, limp clothes, heavy with weight, smelling strongly of something man-made... and the end process, something so light, fresh, clean, full of joyful sounds and textures, the traces of man-made cleanliness replaced with something pure and natural to the senses... In my mind, I'd compare it to our Christian walk... heavy and clumsy at first, so full of our human thoughts and human nature... but as our journey progresses, the more we soak in the Son's Light, the better the harvest He reaps. Faith in Him carries our burdens so lightly, the entire world is seen through fresh eyes, sounds of prayer and worship to Him can be heard and felt, our hearts cleansed and purified by a process no man could ever have orchestrated, and our senses are overwhelmed by it all.

What I would have tried to carry at the beginning, I now give over to God and place it in His hands. "For my yoke is easy and my burden is light", says the Lord.


He has indeed increased my faith to where it can no longer be contained... faith, once stretched, can never return to it's original size.


It is in the process of emptying ourselves that we can let God pour Himself into our empty vessels that changes the weight and fullness of our lives.



Nothing I experienced that day, or any day, compares to spending time in His presence and inhaling Him deeply. It's an intoxicating love, a real, relentless and relevant love. I can't get enough of Him, and I can't resist spending time in His presence. If I could, I'd breathe Him in so that I could carry Him with me all day long, because although He is with me with every breath I take, I still want more of Him, want to know Him more, want to crawl into His lap and hang on to His every Word.

Just when I think I couldn't possibly love Him more... I do.

Although I still love my mom very much and always will, life around me has lost the feeling it had long ago. The things of the world are passing away in my heart, I am growing an intolerance to them over time as God becomes the center of the focus. I'll never grow an intolerance to Him. His presence is permanently etched into my heart.


It may not make sense, but it makes perfect sense just the same. We learn that human love can fade into an illusion of hate when compared to the ultimate Love (Luke 14:25-27)


A little is much, but God is so much more.




(journal, Feb 26, 2010)

Spiritual Physics

I have a confession to make. Science just isn’t my “thing”.


Chemistry was not elective in 9th grade, and in hindsight, I think I had better chances of becoming fluent in Chinese in 10 months. Seriously. I'm also certain that speaking Chinese would have been more practical than being fluent in... "elements and things that go "oops" in the lab..." just saying..



I wasn't completely hopeless... I knew something. (Notice the singular quantity of that word?) Uh-huh. I knew that H2O meant water (even if I didn't understand why) but the question never came up on a test. When you also consider that they never gave me any credit for writing my name on each blank piece of paper I handed in... yeah, about that big fat 0 at the end of the term... oops. ComBUSTED?



I needed one science credit in high school to graduate (insert panic!), but God had mercy on me and made it possible for “Canadian Geography” to count as a science credit. Oh Canada!

Even when the children ask science related questions, I will often respond with an apologetic “I’m sorry, guys, that seems to fall under the science category... so, uhm, call Tia.”




I have another confession to make.



Theology seems just as daunting to me.



Both are such vast, complex subjects, it’s all too easy to get overwhelmed. My saving grace is that I have a passion for God and it keeps me motivated to learn more about Him. Science? Notsomuch.


I don't consider myself to be very intelligent. I learn by simply experiencing and seeing life through analogies, and then acting on what I learn through the power of choice. Teachers whose teaching methods match my learning style are rare. What I lack in intelligence I pray I can make up for in faith. And wisdom. And on a good day, maybe humor. Or something.

So imagine my excitement for a moment when I recently stumbled upon a stirring analogy that mixed physics and theology!


Jesus told the disciples just before his death that soon, He would no longer be among them, but that they would be better off with the gift of a counselor that He would give to them upon His death. (John 14:16)

What could possibly be better than having Jesus physically by your side, in the flesh? Isn't He the ultimate counselor? So could anything be better than walking side by side with Jesus?


Yes.


Being filled with the Holy Spirit.


As Christians, the Holy Spirit is a gift we're all given, so why is it that not every life shows evidence of the Holy Spirit dwelling within?


It all points to Spiritual Physics.


The only thing I know about physics is that two things can’t occupy the same space at the same time. I think there is one exception, something to do with light or something – you’d have to ask someone much smarter than me about that... I vote for Tia. She qualifies for MENSA. I'm really not kidding. She's that smart, and somehow, she manages to put up with me!

It dawned on me that the same is true spiritually within our own bodies -- our lives --our spiritual lives. As Christians, we receive the Holy Spirit, but it only FILLS us in direct proportion to how EMPTY we are. We can not be filled with ourselves and also be full of the Holy Spirit. Spiritual physics!

The Holy Spirit is the ultimate gentleman, He has to be invited in, and won’t take full control unless our control is first surrendered.


Our kids have a game of holding their breath when we cross a bridge. Only one of the kids has made it across the Miramichi Bridge while holding their breath, and none have made it across the Confederation Bridge, thank the Lord! (The Confederation Bridge is over 8 miles long...) I know that they'll come up for air at some point, just the thought of them not breathing oxygen in grieves me. Even though I'm driving and can't see the kids while they're holding their breath, I can tell who gave up first because I hear them gasp for air as they become desperate for oxygen.

I imagine God feels the same way about us. He's waiting for us to breathe in the Holy Spirit and let it fill us and sustain us... but when we're refusing to breathe, it grieves Him deeply. He knows we'll eventually "come up for air", but every moment without the Holy Spirit is like a moment without vital oxygen -- it's detrimental.

If the Holy Spirit is as important to Christians as the air we breathe, why aren't we filling our lives with the Holy Spirit? What does it take for us to be desperate for the Holy Spirit? Where is our hunger, our thirst, our need to breathe the Holy Spirit in? Why aren't we breathing every breath for Him, and if we're not breathing for Him, are we really living?


The reason we aren't filled with Him can normally be summed up with a four letter word.


Fear.



We only want to give the Holy Spirit control if we know what it will cost us, what it will require of us, what His plan or His will is for us... but why? What are we afraid of? Do we not trust His truths, do we not trust that He is Who He says He is? Do we not believe in Him and what He is capable of? Why not? Were we not there the 360+ times His Word told us "do not fear"?

We have every reason to trust Him, and absolutely NO reason not to.

And yet, so many of us are paralyzed by fear.

If there is one thing I understand about fear, it's that the author of fear is satan -- he holds us prisoner to fear when he wants to rob us of what God can do through us. He distracts us from our focus on God because as long as we're distracted by satan, we're not serving God -- that is exactly what satan hopes to achieve. We need to remember that we can not serve two masters. We can not serve ourselves and God, just as we can't serve satan and God.

By giving in to fear, by giving in to satan, we are robbing ourselves.

So instead of reaping a full harvest, we decide that perhaps we only want a tiny little bit of Holy Spirit -- "Just a little Holy Spirit appetizer, on the side, please? Hold the dressing... Fat free, calorie free, oh and risk free too while you're at it, eh?"

What are we trying to do, find a size zero Jesus?

By not giving Him all of us, we're telling Him that we don't want all of Him.

Do we realize at all that this also means that we're also not benefiting from all He has to offer?

By avoiding what may require effort, faith, cost... we're missing out on supernatural blessings and gifts that can't even be measured...

Our unwillingness to surrender all to Him costs us an abundant harvest, a fruitful life. It has eternal consequences. Beyond that, without being filled with the Holy Spirit, an outsider could mistake us for a non-believer... the evidence that points to God just wouldn't shine through, since it is the Holy Spirit who is vital to producing genuine fruit of the spirit.




Fruit of the Spirit?

Love.

Joy.

Peace.

Patience.

Kindness.

Goodness.

Faithfulness.

Gentleness.

Self-control.



How do we know we're not filled with the Holy Spirit? Lack of spirit, lack of fruit. That's why The Word says "fruit of the spirit"! I know, it seems like such a basic, elementary thing to you all, but I'm just cluing in, so have mercy bear with me.



If I needed to determine whether or not my life was bearing fruit of the spirit, I would simply ask myself some questions such as:

1. Do I love all others, even those who hurt me, with the love Christ extends to me?
   
2. Does my life radiate intentional joy at all times rather than circumstantial joy?
   
3. Do I have inner peace?
4. Do I exude patience in all circumstances?
5. Am I kind to others at all times in my thoughts, words, actions, even behind closed doors?
   
6. Does my life reflect the goodness of God to others?
   
7. Is my life ruled by faith or by fear?
   
8. Am I gentle with my thoughts, words and actions, or am I angry, bitter, careless or indifferent?
9. Do I have self-control over my flesh, or does it control me?

Remember my learning style? Analogy and more analogies and a few more analogies following through with the power of choice? Is it enough for the vine to know that it ought to produce grapes? What would happen if all it had was the knowledge, but that it didn't follow it through with action? We know what the fruit of the spirit is -- knowing that is just not enough. Do we have enough Holy Spirit to produce fruit of the spirit? Do we have enough Holy Spirit to produce ALL of them? Are we choosing to be empty enough so that we can be filled and fruitful?

The emptying isn't going to happen on it's own, it has to be our conscious, intentional, free will choice.

Like me, there are likely some things on the list of 9 questions that you can't say "yes" to confidently... I believe that my two biggest struggles are with patience and self-control. Although if you were to compare my patience to what it was 2 years ago, the contrast is so ridiculous, you could say that I'm doing well... but I know there is much room for improvement -- ask my kids about my patience when they get up from their beds for the 10th time, for example. I get a little sour -- hey, you could call it sour grapes :) Either way, lack of patience is either rotten fruit or no fruit at all, and it's an area that needs Holy Spirit intervention. As for the self-control, why don't I exert some self-control right now and NOT go there? Ahem.

So by some perspectives maybe I'm doing "ok"... but am I?

By whose standards do we measure our success? Is it good enough to be a "good person", to be popular, to have a great job or to be nice to others? Is it enough to throw some money at a good charity once in a while to ensure that we're "kind" in the eyes of others and that we've done our share? Is it good enough to show up for church on Sunday? Is it good enough to say all the right things? Is it good enough to have all the right excuses for not doing the right things?

Is it good enough to simply call ourselves believers or Christians? Even Adolph Hitler claimed to follow Christ... did his life bear fruit of the spirit? In the mirror of life, did he reflect Jesus? Do we?


We can all easily succeed in this world by the world's standards, believers and unbelievers alike... but is that the standards by which we, as Christians, are called to live? Doesn't Jesus require more of us than that? Shouldn't our life have an eternal impact by producing a fruitful harvest for His kingdom?




Anyone can be a "good" person... so what sets us apart? What does our life sing that says "I am Yours and You are mine!"?



It's our choice.



Spiritual Physics: Being completely empty of ourselves so as to give the Holy Spirit complete freedom to fill us and bear abundant Christ-like fruit through us, for Him.