joy in knowing the power of prayer

Today is the day after Thanksgiving weekend. Yesterday was the warmest October 13th in recorded history. We sat at the kitchen table with the back screen door open, watching the glorious sunset and eating leftover turkey, cranberry jelly, and apple pie. Outwardly everything was wonderful. All of us were doing our best to have our high minded chats about theological issues and world concerns.

Underneath are some profound concerns for each of us, and for others we love. We were discussing prayer, and trying to articulate how it works, praying in the Spirit to the Father through the Son. I got out some books on prayer, Jim and my nephew continued in their discussions. I was too tired to join in the theological discussion at that time, although I am well able to do so. But I did say, and they agreed: " I don't know how prayer works, but I know it works. That's what matters."

A few hours later I sat with my husband Jim in emergency again, not because he was having or had had another mini stroke, but because I wanted him to get some more attention to his increasing dizziness. This time the doctor reported that the previous time they had not even re corded the mini stroke that had brought him in, and he wondered why Jim was there as he was so well. I was angry at the medical incompetence that had not accurately reported what we had been told verbally, and that had left Jim wondering for almost a week, waiting to hear from the specialist and all he has been put on at the moment is the low dose of aspirin!

I came home to conversations on the phone and otherwise about the deep concerns in our extended family. The consensus is that all we can do is pray. I was able to sleep, although I made myself unavailable for supply teaching yet again because of all the pressure on me and the late hour at which I went to bed.

I woke up after quite a good sleep realizing I had to write email prayer requests about certain situations. I am confident that God will undertake. But there is so much to pray about, to be concerned about. What would we do without prayer? How could any of us live in the midst of our struggles and our concerns about those of others? How could we truly overcome?

Whatever else I know about my life, I know that it is a testament to the power of prayer. And I know that whatever happens, nothing can change that. What a wonder is this for all of us.

joy in an overcoming spirit, with meekness

Yesterday was our Thanksgiving celebration. We were small in number, smaller than we had planned to be, but enjoyed our meal nonetheless. Sarah and Rachel had made delicious pies, my turkey and dressing and vegies turned out well, and we have more turkey leftovers to look forward to. The weather was also incredible. As we waited for guests and turkey, Jim, savouring his moments of life even more these days, sat on the back deck in the sunshine reminiscing about sunlit days in his childhood. The evening before the girls had picked a family video to share that they treasured with its highlights of delightful moments in their very early years.

Obstacles in lives of our extended family reduced our number, but we overcame in a positive spirit. My sister and I affirmed how typical that was for our family. I recalled recent conversations I have had with others about my thoughts and feelings about family "archives" and their legacy in my own life. My mentor had said to me, "That's your archival story. Yours is a family of overcomers, every last one of them." It was so obvious when it was said by another; that is the chief story to take out of my connecting with family papers and memorabilia, and comparing them with my own story. Whatever the details of careers and public achievements and recognition, I am an overcomer like the rest of my family line. I carry that spirit deep within me and I call upon it often in the midst of adversity, opposition, and confusion. That spirit was so strong in my mother during her last year that it was confusing for her that it could not defeat her cancer. Her spirit would not let her body go when she needed to let go.

And sometimes it can be anger or pride that fuels our overcoming spirits. We have to be sure that the overcoming is in line with God's plans, and with His overcoming spirit. Then we move in that spirit with meekness and gentleness, despite the strength and courage inside. I realize that was also the story I was seeking to resolve in my family - when the overcoming was done in that spirit then I celebrated it. What hurt me was when those other forces were at work as well. In our family there were both, and those I recall with the greatest joy were those who wore the mantles of meekness in their courageous overcoming.

So that is the story I carry with thanksgiving as I gather fresh strength to move on with all that challenges me and my family. Ringing in my ears are the words from the old protest song of the sixties I knew so well:

We shall overcome, we shall ovecome,
We shall overcome someday....

It is really the rest of the words that set the spirit straight in that song:

We'll walk hand in hand....

The truth shall set us free...

When we overcome in love, with a desire to walk hand in hand, and when we overcome in truth ...then we are truly walking in meekness and a strength that is worth keeping...a truly treasured possession.

joy in singing the bottom line, that Jesus Loves Me

Today is another lovely sunny morning in Muskoka. The girls and I are about to take our overweight delightful cats to the vet, and begin preparations for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow when my sister and nephew join us from out of town. I have more bags to take to the thrift store, and lots more sorting to do in the basement. Our pastor has just phoned to see how Jim is doing. God is faithful, busy at His work for another day. His love is the bottom line.

I woke this morning remembering a dream. I was in Africa, and somehow in an outdoor setting it was my turn to sing a song over a microphone. I wasn't prepared this time, but felt God say in my spirit, "Sing Jesus Loves Me". I'm one of those people who would like that sung at my funeral. It is my bottom line, since childhood. I know of other people who want that done at their funerals too.

In the dream I shared that I said to God, "But that's a baby song", and He said back to me "And you're my baby". And so I sang it in my dream, and I sing it now here, for you:

Jesus loves me, this I know,
For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong;
They are weak but He is strong.

Yes, Jesus loves me,
Yes, Jesus loves me,
Yes, Jesus loves me,
The Bible tells me so.

Jesus loves me, He who died,
Heaven's gates to open wide,
He will wash away my sin,
Let His little child come in.

Yes, Jesus loves me,
Yes, Jesus loves me,
Yes, Jesus loves me,
The Bible tells me so.

Blessings on your Thanksgiving! No post tomorrow, my Sabbath day.

joy in leaving the final word with God

This morning is bright and sunny here in Muskoka. My daughter is around as she works later in the day, Jim is feeling okay for now, while we wait to hear from the specialist for more tests. I am glad to have more time to sort in the basement. It seems to be an endless task but I trust that when it is done it will free me up for so much more. My fatigue and stress have gone into my legs and they feel heavy as lead. I am grateful for my morning coffee to help me get upright and moving forward, and for my routines that call to me. Writing this blog helps me to focus my thoughts and move out of anxiety and into trust again, as with my quiet time. I am glad there are more needs to think about than just my husband's and my own. I am glad there are future plans to prepare for, Thanksgiving dinner, and all the other jobs waiting to be done. I am grateful that pottery class went well last night and I seem to be getting the hang of it more quickly. Most of all I rejoice that I belong to God, that I am His child, that He is in control of my life, of all our lives. I appreciate these words from Roy Lessin's book, "Always Loved, Never Forgotten":

"The difficulties in our lives will pass on and we will move on.
We will move on in grace,
renewed in faith and strengthened in character,
assured that God has used the difficulty to do His good work within us,
and to bring comfort to others through us. "

Thank you Lord for all that you are teaching me and changing in me through this difficulty.

"To understand God's ways we must see beyond the moment to the end thing that He is doing.
We must never judge things prematurely.
What appears to be weakness, God can transform into greatness.
What seems to be loss, He can turn to gain.
What looks like failure, He can turn to victory.
The hard thing you are going through is not the final chapter.
There is more to be seen and known.
God's ways always bring about happy endings to those who leave the final word with Him. "

Roy Lessin

joy in accepting what each day brings

Yesterday turned out differently than I expected. In the night Jim had some numbness in his left hand and I underreacted because of my experience with getting that sort of thing sorted out by a chiropractor. I came down to breakfast to find him with an instruction from the doctor to go to emerg asap as it might have been a mini stroke. So all at once we were into a new thing. Out of my control.

Glad to have emerg to go to. Glad I was not supply teaching. Glad Sarah was home and glad the girls together could be there with him in the evening while I returned to pottery class. Glad they were considerate and careful at emerg. Glad to get the facts about strokes and to watch over these first 48 hours. Glad Jim and I used our understated personal style to care for him in emerg. Lots and lots to be glad about. How differently it might have been and may be one day. But I have been given a warning, given a chance to think ahead in practical ways about future possibilities. Jim, at 81, is getting some more insights into how to live life gracefully with physical issues he hasn't had before.

How many people have walked this road with great fortitude and grace. How small these issues are for us just now. How kind of God to give us a chance to practice and prepare.

Yet of course the deeper issues remain. Our vulnerability is highlighted in every way. The questions lie just beneath the surface. How will this affect my working future? How true the verse from the Bible about not boasting about tomorrow for you never know what a day will bring forth.

But once again we are called to trust, to rejoice always, to expect God to make a way, no matter what is going on. And to appreciate the moments we have together in the meantime, to respect each other more and more, to think through plans and issues and all their implications.

Sounds a lot like growing up, not just about growing old. I went through some of this with my mother, and six months after her death I look at things with my husband. I do not know what the future holds. But I know Who holds the future, and I rest, each day, in that trust and knowledge.

joy n His time, in His hands

This is my weekly post for http://www.whateverhesays.blogspot.com/.

In His time, in His hands

I have waited a long time for this opportunity. I enter the class, excited by the venue, the well organized shelves stocked with beautiful ware, the clean floor, the good lighting, the ten wheels set out for this week of teaching from a master potter. What a privilege. I have the time and money to do this, to finally learn if I can make pots on a wheel. I choose one that is a little higher, for my back, and a little slower, to help me build my confidence slowly.

The master potter and his wife are gracious and firm, gentle and wise. They say just enough, but the right thing. They demonstrate and they correct, they encourage and they instruct. They smile and laugh, they are humble and confident, they make tea at just the right moment, in one of the beautiful huge teapots that sells for well over a hundred dollars. It seems like they are perfect.

I take my time, intent on not letting the clay fly off the wheel when I try to centre it. The woman next to me tells me not to worry if it does - that's what happened to her the first time. Somehow, at this season in my life, I take it slowly. Maybe I wouldn't have done that before. But life's hard lessons have chastened and humbled my hands. I welcome the opportunity to take my time, to take all the time I need to make this work.

I am rewarded for my patience. I produce some reasonable pots for my first lesson. I am encouraged by the teachers that there is potential for big pots because my pots have "lots of air" in them. I learn that I have a tendency to make them a little dry. I know there are many lessons to come. But I am excited.

The second night I feel more discouraged. Most of my pots are marred in one way or another in my hands. I have trouble centering, and need lots more guidance and input. "Keep your hands steady and true", they say. "Slow down the wheel when your pot is getting bigger." So much to remember. So many delicate manouvers. The tiniest abrupt lift of my hands throws the pot off centre, and it's a throwaway.

I get to feel a little of how God works in our lives. I realize the incredible pressure against my hand as I try to centre the wobbly lump as the wheel whirls. I have to press steadily at the right moment to bring it into position. My respect for God's work in my life grows hugely. No wonder He has had to take His time. There are so many forces to work together, there is so much at stake to fulfill His plans for me, to make me into the kind of pot He truly wants me to be. I honour the times He has set me aside, allowed the pot that is me to be broken again, so He can reshape me. I rejoice that He has not made me less than He wants me to be, less than He knows I can be.

I remember the song I sang in children's ministry:
"In His time, in His time, He makes all things beautiful in His time."

Like my reaction to so many spiritual songs, I question how much trust I have in His capacity and faithfulness. I love to sing them, but can I live their truth? Unbelief was the besetting sin in my early adult years. I resisted His hand many times, did things my own way. Some of the choices I made then have affected me for many years. How many times did He see me as a marred pot? No doubt a greater number than I will ever know, this side of Heaven.

For what seems countless years I have been trying to be a willing vessel. And I have often become discouraged. When will the shape of my life really look and feel like the me He truly wants me to be and I truly want to be? Now I understand just a little more of His craft, His excellence, His intention, His vision, His patience. Unmolded clay in my own hands teaches me so much.

And there is so much more to come. The lessons of glazing, and the lessons of the kiln. Aw, I think I know a little of its heat. I am sure I have no idea. But I know I am in His hands, and on His timetable. If I am willing, He will make it work, and all will be beautiful, in His time




Jeremiah 18: 1-6
This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: "Go down to the potter's house, and there I will give you a message. " So I went down to the potter's house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. Then the word of the Lord came to me: "O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter does?" declares the Lord. "Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel."

joy in new opportunities for growth and creativity

Last night I began my intensive one week pottery class with seven other women at a long established local potter's biannual class. I absolutely loved it, having been anxious wondering if I really could work on the wheel with success. I had loved pottery when I first tried it years ago, but had really only got confident with doing hand built pots.

I was so impressed with the gracious style of teaching of this couple, and the lovely setup. We each can work on our own wheel, and do so for three hours an evening. For me, who can spend so much time in my head, it was a great opportunity to relax and focus and use my hands, which I loved to do. It came after a multiple intelligence test and learning styles inventory we did in my Adult Education training class on Saturday, in which I identified a much higher tactile/kinesthetic ratio of learning style and intelligence than I had thought.

This is a delightful blessing for me in the midst of this season of working through so many things on many levels, helping to change my "archival story" in the way that I want to, and to experience in ever deepening ways God working as the master potter in my life to reshape me.