Update

I know it's been a while since I posted anything on this blog. You might be wondering what I've been up to, or maybe you don't care at all. Either way, I feel like I owe you an explanation for my silence. I don't feel like I want to be done here and there are still things to say.

The struggle with depression really has diminished a good deal for me and I am grateful for that. I feel more myself and there is a lightness for me and I am starting to feel like my old old self. Yay.

The summer was good for me. I've been going through a deeper spiritual shifting as I have been looking at turning 60. So, much of the summer was spent in conversations with God. And they were conversations more than just monologues. There was hope there and faith as the Spirit and I conversed.  So things are shifting. Inside of me and in our lives as well. They are shifting at God's direction, so we will see how autumn unfolds. I am excited.

Hillary and her three guys are coming for Christmas, which is exciting too. I am already looking froward to that. Those twins are growing up so quickly. 

Oh and I am doing the Daily Prayers again and enjoying that too. It energizes me to spend some time in study and then in prayer with people who are out there. The numbers are humble, anywhere from 5 to 20s viewers a day. But that activity is good for me too. It was one of the things God and I talked about this summer, and so I have a strong sense that its his thing and the numbers are his worry. So I am learning things still about service. You can see it at thefieldpastor.com.

Maybe as the snow tries to fall and settle on these cold fields, here's a good poem to end with.

Winter Fields

I love old winter fields-they seem to hold

A sort of kinship to the wind and cold—

The frozen furrows clogged with sodden leaves,

The stubble with a few thin scattered sheaves,

A plow up-tilted . . with a broken share

(They just unhitched and left it sitting there).

A few old twisted trees that sort of lean

Down the steep edges of a small ravine,

A few thin cattle waiting to be fed,

Humped in the shelter of a broken shed;

A rim of frost along the water's edge,

Old nests revealed behind a tangled hedge.

There is a strange affinity between

Our homesick souls and fields of budding green;

Something within us answers to the sound

Of new life bursting through the quiet ground.

And yet a frozen field where Winter dwells

Sings in my heart like muted temple-bells.

Night.

   

A random post about the sky

So today is the day when Jupiter will be the closest to earth, and so the easiest to see.

It hasn’t been so close in 59 years, the year I was born. And it won’t be so close again for 107 years. Which means none of us alive today will be alive when it comes around the again. That’s kind of humbling.

So the other night I pulled out my telescope and spent an hour or two just looking up into the night sky. It was a beautifully clear night like it hasn’t been for a long time. And you could see Jupiter, brilliant and bright like a diamond in the night. I believe it’s the second brightest thing in the sky after the moon during this time.

I worked hard to try to get a picture of Jupiter with its moons through my telescope. It looked glorious, and you could see the colors of the planet. Its moons always strike me as little stars or again little diamonds in this vast setting.

I was able to take, this picture which is nothing compared to what I could see by my eye. But you could at least see some of the moons.

It is amazing just to stand outside and look into the night sky and just think about how far it goes on.

The other day Lauralea and I were driving somewhere listening to the news reporters saying that scientists were going to do an experiment on an astroid. They were going to crash a spaceship into an astroid to see if they could affect its trajectory.

Interestingly this is also is happening tonight, and while Jupiter is 367,000,000 miles away from earth, this astroid named Dimorphos is about 6 1/2 million miles away from earth. But don’t worry, you don’t stand a chance of seeing it happen.

You see Dimorphos is a space rock that measures 525 feet across, 6 1/2 million miles out there in space. And the spacecraft that will hit it is about the size of a small car and will be traveling at 15,000 mph when it hits the rock.

So what struck me anew is that we are going to send a small car sized spaceship, 6 1/2 million miles out there in space to hit a rock a bit larger than a football field, at a point out in space where they will perfectly intersect one another.

And still, we are told that the universe exists today because of a state of randomness. That things happen without order.

I know of course that they have their arguments to answer my questions. And Lord knows I am a simple man and I am lousy with math. But if we can pick a target out in space, 6 1/2 million miles away and have a small car hit a rock in that place years later, I just fail to see an argument for randomness.

Life is not random. 

John Donne died today 1572–1631

“Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so.” 

 “Lo,” preached the newly ordained minister, quoting the Book of Lamentations at the funeral of his wife, “I am the man that hath seen affliction.” Indeed, from the death of his father to his own, John Donne witnessed much affliction. 

The Black Plague was repeatedly sweeping through London—three waves during his 10-year tenure as dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral—killing tens of thousands with each recurrence. For months Donne thought himself a sure victim of the disease. 

Throughout his life, he withstood financial ruin, the destruction of his family, religious persecution, and other plagues. Yet, he became one of England’s greatest love poets, and one of the greatest preachers of the 1600s.

Certainly one of my favourite poets. He died at age 59.

The Tree Abides

It’s been a week of early mornings and late nights and now the cold has come to join us. Still the tree abides. Apparently we are in no big rush to see it go, and I’m ok with that.

In early mornings when I get up and late nights when I get home, it still inspires me with childlike wonder. And I can use all of that I can get hold of.

The Grace of Wonder

“Joseph it's time, he's here.”
Very few of us as human beings, are given a great dose of Wonder to face life with. For most of us as we transform from children to adults, we lose the sense of wonder. The grace of awe.
The wise ones hold on to their wonder, and the rest of us look at them with impatience, wondering when they will grow up and face the world like the rest of us do. We say “Grow up” BUT Jesus said you must become as a little child.

Christmas is a time when wonder is real, when Wonder became flesh and dwelt among us. Wonder has always been associated with Christmas.

What about Mary’s eyes as the angel told her what was to come?
“Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.” (Luke 1)

There is a hint of fear there in her big probably brown eyes as she receives this news. But she asks how will this happen, since she is a virgin?
“The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.”

You can feel her confidence returning and the wonder start as she replies:
“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.”

God was at work creating a way for humanity to be introduced to himself. Making a way for us to connect with Him. This baby in a manger is God’s best attempt to tell us in a gentle way, that he loves us. God came into this space and time to give us a hope in solving this human condition.

Born as a baby, Jesus Christ lived life here and had some dear friends and family but had an amazing relationship of love with his Heavenly Father. Some thirty three years later he died undeservedly on a cross, and then conquered death and came back to life. That’s pretty wonder-ful.

You see, wonder has always been associated with Christmas. Because God is the God of wonder.

This world needs a God of miracles, a God of wonder. A God who satisfies our tired hearts and offers us hope in a time of hopelessness.

Christmas was always about light shining in the darkness — Jesus entering this human existence. Maybe we should take a lesson from those with child like wonder this season.

Yes, wonder has always been a part of Christmas. It’s not just for five year olds and for women having babies. It’s for each of us because the God of Wonders is the God of Christmas.

Let me close with a line from a video;

But would they, could they,
imagine a gift so great,
a gift that compelled the whole world to wait
when a heavenly father gave all of mankind
his son
the one
love defined.
The magic of Christmas is more brilliant you see
then a bag or a box put under a tree.
The true love of Christmas really began
when holy God became wholly man.
My friends it's time, he's here.

A Prayer before Sleeping

Before the ending of the day,
Creator of the world, we pray
That you, with steadfast love, would keep
Your watch around us while we sleep.

From evil dreams defend our sight,
From fears and terrors of the night;
Tread underfoot our deadly foe
That we no sinful thought may know.

O Father, that we ask be done
Through Jesus Christ, your only Son;
And Holy Spirit, by whose breath
Our souls are raised to life from death.

Ode On Solitude (or The Quiet Life)

The Quiet Life

HAPPY the man whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air
In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire;
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Blest who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,

Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mixt, sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.


Written by Alexander Pope
Felt by Randall, Pastor

more...

My Nap (Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep)

I nap now.
I'm not that old, but
my body regularly requires it
on a busy, stressful day.

The Doctor says
I should do what my body wants.
In this regard anyway.

So, less often than I should
mainly because of a good Mennonite work ethic,
I take my nap.

I come home exhausted
and I crawl beneath my quilt
for an hour, or two, or three.

How exquisite it feels to
my weary body, my tired spirit.

I turn onto my side,
knees slightly bent
one hand beneath my face
the other comfortably beside it
in its own place.

The quilt pulled up just beneath my chin
and within moments the room swirls about
and I am gone.
I sleep.

But not yesterday
Yesterday, safe within my cocoon I thought to myself
an odd thought
this is exactly how I want to be laid to rest.

I've seen too many dead bodies
in caskets.
That look even more uncomfortable, if that is possible,
because of what they are wearing.
And I thought

When my time comes, and it will,
lay me in my simple box in a comfortable
shirt and trousers
on my side
with my knees slightly bent
one hand beneath my face
the other comfortably beside it
in it's own place.
And let my quilt be pulled up
just beneath my chin
that I may rest comfortably
and let me sleep.

And let me
in my temporary home
be oriented towards you
my partner in life.
You shouldn't have to worry that I'll breathe on you.
But I face you because
you have access to my heart.
And because after all these years of watching over you
and you watching over me
let me rest in my going
the way we lived our lives together.
Watching over one another.

Then let me sleep, my body resting
until the day
my shoulder is touched
by the One who loved me before I was even born
and He gently speaks the words of life
"It's time to get up."
and I am awakened from my slumber
never to need a nap again.

Yawn.

Literary Freedom

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

BY ROBERT FROST

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

---

This lovely little poem is now in the Public Domain, some twenty years later than it should have been, along with a whole backlog of other beauties that were due to enter the Public Domain 20 years ago but were delayed all these years.

I remember that dust up way back in 1998.

Well now the time is accomplished for these literary treats to be released unto the public.

The Guardian has the whole story here.

Life is but a Weaving

Life is but a Weaving
(the Tapestry Poem)

“My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaveth steadily.

Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.

Not ’til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And reveal the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful
In the weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned

He knows, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.

Corrie ten Boom

The air speaks of change

There is change in the air now.
In seasons, in families, in work.
In energy, in health.

This is the part of the year that I love.
The heat and toil of summer is ending.
The cool of the year grows.


"Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
Ceaseless, insistent."

O God, gather me now.

O God, gather me now
to be with you
as you are with me.
Soothe my tiredness;
quiet my fretfulness;
curb my aimlessness;
relieve my compulsiveness;
let me be easy for a moment.


O Lord, release me
from the fears and guilts
which grip me so tightly;
from the expectations and opinions
which I so tightly grip,
that I may be open
to receiving what you give,
to risking something genuinely new,
to learning something refreshingly different.

O God, gather me
To be with you
as you are with me.
Amen

Ted Loder

I Am Tired. By Fernando Pessoa

I am tired, that is clear,
Because, at certain stage, people have to be tired.
Of what I am tired, I don't know:
It would not serve me at all to know
Since the tiredness stays just the same.
The wound hurts as it hurts
And not in function of the cause that produced it.
Yes, I am tired,
And ever so slightly smiling
At the tiredness being only this -
In the body a wish for sleep,
In the soul a desire for not thinking
And, to crown all, a luminous transparency
Of the retrospective understanding…
And the one luxury of not now having hopes?
I am intelligent: that's all.
I have seen much and understood much of what I
have seen.
And there is a certain pleasure even in tiredness
this brings us,
That in the end the head does still serve for
something.

written under the pen name of, Alvaro de Campos
24-6-1935  

Lauren Daigle - Trust In You

I've loved this song for over a year now, but I've loved it in principle.
Now I am loving it in real life.


 

Be still my soul

It's been one of those weeks that I would call a people week.
After the intensity of Christmas and then the month to do year end and annual reports, business meetings and budgets, I've been so looking forward to these days of connecting more with people again.

Today I am ready for tomorrow, and trying to gain some rest from the past week. Rest is needed after a full season, after a full people week, and after a very emotional week. Rest is welcomed as my body groans against the rhythms I'm living in.

So I am resting. Its good.

And on my mind today is an old song. Be Still My Soul by Katharina A. von Schlegel.
I'm holding on to these promises today. You can too.

Be still, my soul, your God will undertake
to guide the future as he has the past.
Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake;
all now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul, the waves and winds still know
his voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Upon a Winter's Night on the Prairies

Upon a Winter's Night on the Prairies

I awake. 

Suddenly I'm trying to recognize the blackness of my room. Where am I? 

I smell
zest soap and old polished wood and a musty couch.
Ah, I am safe in my grandmothers livingroom.
I feel her comforter tucked up beneath my chin
and the quiet, moonlit street outside the window
reminds me that I am safe. 

Then, it comes again,
the sound that woke me.
The sound of the locomotive horn,
charging through the frozen, December night air,
into my safe, warm refuge - so sharp and clear
it's as if I'm standing right beside the track.
I hear the wheel's - metal on metal - running hard
on the frozen track. Past the elevator, past the
Gulf gas station, along the highway, heading to Winnipeg
and Thunder Bay and Toronto. 

Then suddenly, as quickly as it came, it's gone.
Silence envelopes the night, filling up the space that the train left empty in it's wake. 

It's quiet and dark.
The moon glow reflects off the cold snow into the window
and I pull the quilt up even tighter beneath my chin
blissfully unaware that for years to come, whenever
I hear a train in the night, I will feel safe and warm and wonderful. 

Blessings.

Speak Life

You Were Gone

The harmonies tight, and the humour, profound.
Enjoy this blast from the past.
I sure did.

 

August 17, 1985

I can't believe it's been thirty years already.

I remember she looked beautiful.
I remember I couldn't stop smiling.
I remember that my face hurt from all that smiling.
I remember it was such a good day.




Life with Lauralea has been pretty amazing.
I'm thankful to God for her, and for knowing me well enough that He knew what kind of a soul I needed to journey through this life with.

She is constant reminder to me, that God loves me.
And now here's to another thirty years.

P.S. Here are some of the original wedding day photos.

This, is God. (John 21)

Peter restored by Christ
Three times restored
Three times denied.

Publicly restored by Christ
Three times.


Previously Peter was brash arrogant. Seats in heaven, who's first.

After he was humbled, almost dead in Christ, he served well and powerfully all his days.

Oh the gentleness of God through Christ the restoration.

Not confrontational.
Not publicly embarrassing.
Not Manipulative.

Like God in the garden of Eden with sinning people hiding their nakedness.

God killed an animal and gave the skins for clothing.
Not to embarrass them. Or humble them more.
He was very aware of their sinful state and He took steps to not hurt them more.

Yes they still had the effects of their sin, but piling it on wasn't Gods thing.


This is what the Lord says: "Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom or the strong man boast of his strength or the rich man boast of his riches, 24 but let him who boasts boast about this: that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight," declares the Lord.
Jeremiah 9:23–24