joy in doing "to do" with "ta-da"

Yesterday I was told about a stress buster concept of never doing "to do's" without doing "ta- da". Of course I intuitively knew what it meant, and enjoyed a day of getting through the drudgery of some of my to do's by interspersing them or surrounding them with ta-da's, whatever I might conceive them to be. Sometimes it was taking time out for some more creative work in the waiting period while the freezer defrosted, at other times it was playing a favourite song and singing it myself. It helped so much to be given permission, to be encouraged to do ta- da!! So of course I decided I must blog about it today, as I prepared for a day of to do's and ta- da's. I mused upon the effectiveness of this way of task management and found it superior to the tips in the S.H.E. manual I read years ago. Did you see that? The acronym stands for "Sidetracked Home Executives", meaning people like me who like to multi task and need to ta- da all over the place to stay sane in the midst of drugdging jobs. The negative cast it put on creativity was a bit crippling and needless to say I never instituted its systematic procedures. Not that I don't like organization and systems. I really do. But they have to have enough ta- da in them, I now realize, having this new word for it, for them to be human, enjoyable and creative, and do - able. Like the biblical concept "Without a vision the people perish".

I decided to do some homework on all this ta-da for you and me. Google of course was my first stop, and I was not disappointed. First of all there is a To Do list company called Ta Da!! How do you like that? And of course there is the very important information for all of those who like legitmacy and orthodoxy that "ta-da" is one of the more than 2,000 new words in The New Oxford Dictionary of English. I find it isn't in my big one that was new in 2001. And the definition:

Ta-da (Exclamation) - An imitation of a fanfare (typically used to indicate an impressive entrance or dramatic announcement).

So there we are. But this way of ta-da-ing that I am proposing and I think the stress- busting speaker intended is about doing things with flair, with creativity, spontaneity, and confidence in all those. Kind of a cousin of chutzpah, which made its way into a recent blog post I wrote. That word is definitely in the dictionary, handed down from Yiddish mamas!! Ta-da for them!!!

May you and I both find joy today and every day in our to-do's and our ta-da's!!!

What a to do!! As I write this I hear some animal character from a child's book echoing this back to me - was it an owl?? Anyone who can remember please tell me, and ta-da- to you if you do!!Twit - twoo!!

joy in physical work, and getting jobs done

One of my joys this summer is finally getting some stuff sorted and seeing some results, and most of it is sheer physical work. Now that I am a little more rested, that energy has returned, and the emotional satisfaction of getting the jobs done is a motivator too. How precious also to enjoy sunshine and rain, moving around with our bodies in various positions, being grateful to have health and space to do work, to experience the world of nature but to do creative things with our home. This reminds me of similar satisfying days in Uganda, in the home that Sarah and Rachel are revisiting. There the trips back and forth from house to school room, to container to workshop, to garden and up the hill to church or friends - those trips were often hot and had to be done with hats in the day or flashlights at night with lots of bug spray to repel malaria carrying mosquitoes. Life was simpler in some ways, and also more complicated. But in both cases there was and is the common denominator of the blessing of home, garden, physical work, and time...these are joys we can all relate to, and celebrate.

joy in appreciating expertise, as well as the benefits of technology

Today I had some appointments loaded into one day. I briskly walked to the clinic to have my blood pressure checked again - good results. A machine combined with a trained person. Then I headed over to the screening program to have a routine mammogram - again - a machine combined with a trained person. Then on to the optometrist, with the latest in technology combined with personal expertise. That was true for all these people. I came home to my husband working with his saw, measuring tape, cordless drill etc. on our kitchen shelves. Precision, knowledge, with simple tools. My nephew working on the steps to the river - his expertise combined with my husband's. I talk with an essential helper in my life - expertise in listening and reflecting back to me my personal story. How much all these people, highly trained, highly gifted, each in their own ways, made a difference in my life, today, and over time. Some I will never see again. Others I will see routinely but not often. Some I see very regularly and share and depend upon very deeply. I write to you all, depending upon technology to make a connection that is very important to me, and might be to you. This morning I received wonderful photos of Sarah and Rachel, newly together in Uganda, through an email from a longtime missionary friend. Technology combined with loving friendship. Where am I going with this? Somewhere I think we all go, if not consciously, then unconsciously, as we live out our human lives. Often these experiences and blessings are not obvious messengers or agents of God' s grace, but for those with eyes to see, we can see them that way. And of course human expertise and technology could also wound us deeply and cause us great harm. So in and of themselves they are not good or bad. But today I am particularly aware of them, in combination, and on their own, and take joy in their blessing upon my life.

joy in another story of His all-sufficient grace

It is Wednesday again - I am up in the night waiting to check on Rachel's safe arrival in Uganda - and writing a story about our departure years ago - here it is, written for my weekly contribution to the team devotional blog, www.whateverhesays.blogspot.com:

An ever present reality

The guest preacher unexpectedly turned in the middle of his talk and addressed us – the visiting missionaries – He said the Lord wanted to say 2 Corinthians 12:9 to us: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” This man knew nothing of us. We were visiting the church where I had been part of a women’s multi-denominational prayer and study group before we went to live in Uganda. That was our only connection. It was the last Sunday of a six month furlough. I had expected God to speak to us in some special way. But what did this mean?

Of course it’s THE verse for all of us. His grace IS sufficient always. And always it seems we tend to live as if it isn’t. Why were we, now, in our fifth year as missionaries, needing to be told this? No more clues came, even when we were prayed for later in the service. The usual prayers were prayed which were comforting. The preacher said nothing more.

But out in the foyer as we moved in opposite directions, I caught a look behind his eyes. “He knows something he can’t say”, I thought to myself. I had a sense of foreboding. What was going to happen when we returned? Was there something terrible about to happen which God was speaking to? Why else would He insert such a message in the midst of a sermon about another topic by a preacher who knew nothing of our situation? I believed God wanted to get our attention and assure us of His care for us in the days to come.

We returned to our home in Uganda. There was a sense of unease about our compound worker. He had never liked the highly educated clergyman we had hired to keep our projects going in our absence, and, hopefully into the long term future. This man had always put him down, treated him, his own countryman, as a servant, while we, the white people, honoured him as a friend, and still do.

In a few weeks it was clear. Thousands of dollars of our funds had been embezzled by this man, without remorse. We fired him. He launched a hate campaign against us, twisting personal information into lies, inciting the hatred latent within the administration of the church we served, who resented our scrupulous management of funds on projects, not allowing them personal access to designated money. Now the people on the hill were split – our friends, the honourable Christians, were horrified at this betrayal, yet, having tried to warn us of this man’s character, in some ways not surprised. The others – well – they were almost envious that this man had got away with something they hadn’t.

The administration asked us to let them handle the “trial” of one of their own. We trusted them. It turned into a kangaroo court. We were blamed for the misfortunes that had come upon us. Hateful letters, ridiculous demands, violations of written agreements followed. Warnings that the man we had hired and fired was capable of much more evil. We had two young children. Our work was not wanted except by those who needed it and had no voices to speak. It was time to shake the dust off our feet.

We left Uganda three months after we had arrived back. Other missionaries said we were fortunate to do what we did – sell our furniture and vehicles, get out with our lives and thirteen duffel bags full of our prized possessions, mostly books. Missionary friends took us in locally while we cleaned up. We heard from Canada that the home we had bought several years before would unexpectedly be available to us within a few months. Our children were even looking forward to going to live in Canada.

Indeed, His grace was sufficient, moment by moment, day by day, week by week. And so it has been in all our days here in Canada, in the years since. Those who always loved us kept in touch. The new administration has invited us to come back anytime. Our daughters are now there visiting, being blessed by those who loved us. His grace continues.

That Sunday morning God spoke of something that we all should know and trust in all the time. Yet our unbelieving wounded hearts find it so hard to do. Yesterday I read the following words by Prebendary H.W. Webb Peploe, quoted in Streams in the Desert:

“God cannot make it any more sufficient than He has made it; get up and believe it, and you will find it true, because the Lord says it in the simplest way: ‘My grace is (not shall be or may be) sufficient for thee.”

joy in keeping the bigger perspective- about His grace

Well, Rachel is in England, and soon to be in the air again. Sarah is waiting expectantly in Kampala, praying for Rachel and me not to worry. Really, Rachel and I did well yesterday, but it is inevitable to think about eternity when one is about to fly into the air at supersonic speed in the age of terrorism, let alone jet power. So the little frightened girl in Rachel was brave and faithful, and the yearning mother in me was the same, as we sent our final waves over the security barriers at the departure gate. Now she is likely having the time of her life seeing lovely southern England with her aunt and uncle for a few magical hours before boarding for Entebbe, Uganda. Take care, princess.

How quickly I am into a new mode, gearing up to face many responsibilities lying dormant while I readied my girl to go. The energy to face them comes as I need it, along with the awareness that this is also a God-given time to take care of me. How grateful I am that God always has the bigger perspective, but allows us to be fully present in each experience, and then gently leads us on to the next one.

And God has just spoken to me about His grace, for that is what this is all about. His grace IS sufficient for me. I need never doubt it. I must not doubt it. Today's reading in Streams in the Desert speaks to this: "Never turn God's facts into hopes, or prayers, but simply use them as realities, and you will find them powerful as you believe them." Annie Johnson Flint the hymn writer knew this too: "He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater....When we reach the end of our hoarded resources, Our Father's full giving is only begun."

joy in "doing it scared", with "chutzpah"!

Rachel received a comforting word from her cousin, a fan of Joyce Meyer, to "do it scared." We both agreed it was helpful. She and I can't pretend we're not scared. She is her mother's daughter. She is flying across the Atlantic to London on a jet plane. In the age of terrorism. Yes, she is being met by her aunt and uncle, whom she hasn't seen for seven years, and she will visit the area around Windsor castle for the day. Not bad for a 12 hour stopover at Heathrow. Then she will fly across the Mediterranean and North Africa, in the night, but be met by her now Africa-seasoned sister Sarah and dear missionary friends at Entebbe. Not bad for an arrival in former war torn Uganda. Of course first she will have to buy a visa from a possibly grumpy or suspicious customs officer, and have her baggage, full of gifts to Ugandan and missionary friends and packets of Kraft dinner for Sarah, inspected. They might think she wants to sell stuff and try to charge her duty. Enough to be scared about travelling alone at 17 after a sheltered teenage life in small town Ontario. Forget her adventurous childhood killing snakes in the yard in Uganda, spending every moment she could pretending she was African instead of learning boring phonics with Mum in the "school" room off the garage. Gutsy helps. Joyce Meyer knows that. Not that I know much about her. God's guts are enough for me. But chutzpah helps. You and I know the Holy Spirit will be there for her in her moments of need. And we know that she belongs to her Saviour, and her life is in His hands. But she is scared, and so am I. It really is enough to "do it scared". We will pray for protection, peace, and "chutzpah"!

joy in new understanding of spiritual truths

This is a season of discovery and rediscovery. Perhaps it is so for all of us throughout life. Sharp moments of revelation come and go. Today I am doing final packing with Rachel and final notes to friends in Uganda. I have already spoken with Sarah who is safely with missionary friends in Kampala waiting to meet Rachel with them in less than two days' time. I awoke remembering the hinds' feet that Hannah Hurnard elucidated in her book Hinds' Feet in High Places and mused upon that truth in my life. So much of my life is like a journey up a mountain, and there are many hard and confusing places. In fact, they can seem never ending and ever wearying. I reconnected in my heart and mind with the combination of our Lord leading me ever onward and upward, and also following my heart, connecting in deeper ways with the experience of loving my daughters as I let them go more and more. Sometimes it seems as if my heart strings will break with the weight and tension of love. Yet it seems that the truth of the hinds' feet is about being able to bear those burdens lightly. And I think back to my musing upon yokes. I search among my secondhand books, a reclaimed library mostly from the thrift store after we left so much behind in Uganda. Do I have Hannah's book? I find her sequel, Mountains of Spices, and there read about the Law of Love and feel comforted and connected again. This is territory I understand. I am living it ever more each day. And God is with me, and I am with Him, and together we are climbing the mountains.