Northern Lights; Southern Cross

2010-03-15T00:00:00.001-06:00

Last day of my birthday month

2010-02-28T17:49:00.001-07:00

I celebrate my Feb 2 birthday all month, from beginning to end. :-)

Thank you for celebrating with me!

How do you celebrate your birthday (or other special days), dear Reader?

http://nlsc2010.blogspot.com/

2010-01-22T09:11:00.001-07:00

See above for new blog address (yes, I moved).

Here it is again: http://nlsc2010.blogspot.com/

Twins

2009-12-09T23:56:00.004-07:00

Invictus

2009-12-09T23:56:00.002-07:00

Saturday's "Tour through the NT"

2009-11-29T23:38:00.001-07:00

Friday's snowy ride at Griffin

2009-11-29T23:37:00.006-07:00

Thursday at war

2009-11-29T23:37:00.004-07:00

Wednesday with Warren

2009-11-29T23:37:00.001-07:00

Tuesday at MSF

2009-11-29T23:36:00.001-07:00

Week in review

2009-11-29T23:35:00.001-07:00

Flawless

2009-11-14T23:12:00.003-07:00

Watch this space for news of today's convention at the Telus Centre in downtown Calgary. There are harder ways to spend a Saturday than in the company of beautiful women.

(I do this to remind myself to post something!)

EP,
still trudging through molasses
but even this part of the journey is sweet
(albeit somewhat s-l-o-w)

11:11

2009-11-11T11:11:00.004-07:00

Eleven eleven

2009-11-11T11:06:00.000-07:00

Monday at home

2009-11-09T20:48:00.004-07:00

Mondays are my quiet days.

Usually I spend the day away from home (so as to avoid the phone, computer and front door bell), but sometimes the reality of work spills over into the silent spaces of my week. I write from home, I edit (when absolutely necessary), I do a spot of domestic engineering (see previous parentheses), I bake, I nap. Mostly, Mondays are non-people days.

Today I finished writing an article for the Nov/Dec edition of a magazine. My editor is far too gracious and her sweet spirit ensures my sanity, month after month. Sometimes I get to write two articles, just for fun. :) These deadlines--"coming ready or not"--keep me focused on writing; I tend to drift away from the page out of sheer laziness, but when I'm here, doing what I love, I'm most at peace.

I am thankful for the opportunities that come my way. And I meet fascinating folk!

(Note to self: write about all the beautiful people you've interviewed in the past two years.)

Milk and cookies

2009-11-09T00:07:00.001-07:00

Overboard: A Kaleidoscope of Kindness

2009-11-02T18:06:00.001-07:00

As I wrote to several e-mail Readers yesterday, let me know if you'd like to read my Nov 1 CBC entry.

Titles only

2009-11-02T18:03:00.005-07:00

I'm still so far behind in my work since we went away for Reading Week that all I'm blogging are the titles!

However, I have managed to stay up to date with teaching and editing deadlines (those are less flexible than my own writing, alas).

As yesterday's title shows, I also managed to meet the Nov 1 CBC literary awards entry deadline ... by the skin of my teeth.

Nov 1 deadline met

2009-11-02T18:02:00.001-07:00

In memory of Julia-dear: 30 Oct 2007

2009-10-30T21:16:00.007-06:00

Phillips update

2009-10-30T21:16:00.005-06:00

Wee hours and a dream is stirring

2009-10-30T00:18:00.007-06:00

First snow...and I can't sleep

2009-10-05T02:11:00.005-06:00

It's snowing! I love the first snow of the season. On Saturday the snow melted, but tonight it's settling on the green grass and golden leaves of our garden. Pure. White. Simply beautiful.

I cannot sleep. I spoke to my mom a couple of hours ago ... and there are many things on my mind in this moment.

Back to bed, to my sweetly sleeping spouse and to the comfort of a God who knows the answers to questions I haven't dared to ask.

My mother's voice

2009-10-03T23:35:00.007-06:00

I just spoke to my mom after returning from a gorgeous Calgary wedding (which Robin photographed). Her voice has never sounded sweeter. She’s still in hospital—she’s been in ICU for a while now—but our conversation was coherent, all things considered (including the lateness of the hour here!). I told her it snowed on our way home ... our first snow of the season.

Bedtime!

Home from Saskatoon

2009-09-28T18:44:00.007-06:00

Mom's still in hospital but doing fine. We arrived home to several phone messages, none of which bore bad news.

I like being home! (Perhaps that's one of the reasons I travel: to come home.)

Oh, our friends in SK spoiled us ...

More soon, once I've caught up with myself. Alas, I was behind when we left! Deadlines await.

EMP,
happy to unpack and raid my own fridge instead of my friend's :)

Mom's back in hospital

2009-09-23T22:13:00.013-06:00

Again, my family requests no phone calls, please. But alas, Mom is back in hospital today (Wed). She's dehydrated and not eating well. A drip seems to be the answer for now.

{Oh, Mommy, my heart aches for you all.}

I'll be away after class tomorrow. R and I are driving with our friend CS to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan (tell me if you want to hear the only SK joke I know). We'll be back on Monday when I'll post an update again.

The other Leaches seem to be doing fine.

Enjoy your weekend, wherever you are. Here in Alberta we're enjoying record highs for September, considering we've passed the autumn equinox already. No complaints at all! Fall's my favourite season, no contest.

EP,
off to pack for the province to the east (turn right and keep going straight)

Mom's home

2009-09-19T13:50:00.014-06:00

Sorry for the late update. Mom came out of hospital earlier this week, hooray! Hopefully she'll be able to rest at home. Medication seems to be the preferred option for heart treatment at present; no surgery is planned for the foreseeable future.

We've had a special week of extended classes at seminary and I attended a ladies' retreat yesterday and today (which my hubby would have enjoyed, I'm sure).

R and I are off to photograph a country wedding later this afternoon, so my computer time has been limited.

Thanks for popping in to find out about my family. Do write and tell me about yours.

Mom's in hospital

2009-09-13T14:50:00.008-06:00

Beloved readers

In keeping with the Leach family’s month from hell (starting with Wallace’s Jeep accident in August, followed by Mari landing up in hospital with measles, then Mom’s laryngitis and more) ...

... I am writing to let you know my mom, Lynn, is in hospital. Again. She’s on oxygen, a drip, and a nebulizer, so we hope all the bases are covered!

Mom has an existing heart condition (complicated by several other factors), and is currently waiting for the results of various tests done last week: blood work, bone marrow, etc. Despite the fact that she’s very weak and tired, we’ve enjoyed frequent phone calls in the last little while and her sense of humour seems to have survived her immediate family’s recent avalanche of crises. (50% of our family members have been in hospital in the past five weeks!)

To state the obvious: this has not been a take-it-easy kind of month, and taking it easy is what her heart currently needs. Heart surgery is an option my family would prefer not to consider, but we’ll know more tomorrow. I believe she’s in good hands. I also believe in a Physician Who has the power to save, to heal and to comfort the broken-hearted. Please pray with me for my loved ones.

Please don’t call my dad this week; he does not have much of a voice at present. Thanks for understanding.

Thank you, too, for your continued prayer and care for my family. I know I said I wouldn’t be sending further Leach updates this soon, but I know my mom appreciates your support.

Hoping to have good news next time,
Elaine Mary

+1 403-932-3560
http://nlsc2008.blogspot.com/

P.S. For weekly updates, please follow this blog.

Glenbrook block party

2009-09-12T23:17:00.023-06:00

Tonight (Sept 12) we blocked off our street and had a BBQ. R enjoyed a burger and spinach salad with strawberries and mandarin segments; my next-door neighbour sizzled my steak for me and I munched on fresh corn on the cob; lots of fun. More than 40 folk came!

We’ve lived on Glenbrook Bay for 5 years already, and today we met some of our neighbours for the very first time. Our next-door neighbours we know quite well and appreciate dearly. (See earlier blog posts.) Along our side and around the corner lives a diverse crowd: PhD profs, Hebrew and Greek lecturers, nurses, teachers, accountants, tattooed and body-pierced postmoderns, rednecks and philosophers (and that’s just on the sunny side of the street).

On the other side’s a widow, a drummer (Sunday afternoon naps have a new rhythm), a single mom with a special-needs toddler and two pre-teens, a grandma raising her adolescent daughter’s son, and a couple of party-lovers on the far corner.

Interesting stories, fascinating life journeys.

One learns of deep sadness and profound courage all around: for example, the single mom lost both her brother and her sister in a two-week period this summer. Oi!

One young couple just returned from a trip to Cambodia and Thailand. I had a splendid time listening to their travel tales! Four of us on the street had Nikons, and we spoke about all things artistic. One out-of-towner visiting his family showed me close-ups of bugs on flowers he’d captured on film (the dragonfly and bees were my favourite), along with pics of his boyfriend; he’s got a rare talent and a great eye for composition.

My beloved boss (seminary’s academic dean) and two colleagues live in the same neighbourhood, so it was interesting for us to see each other in this wild(er) setting.

H1N1-free hugs ’n’ kisses,

your neighbour (near or far)

Sept 12 Seminary picnic

2009-09-12T23:17:00.004-06:00

Coming soon.

Sept 11 Griffin Valley Ranch

2009-09-11T00:21:00.013-06:00

Coming soon.

Sept 10 Jake and the Kid

2009-09-11T00:21:00.009-06:00

Coming soon.

Sept 9 CPO

2009-09-11T00:21:00.007-06:00

Coming soon.

Sept 8: 53rd wedding anniversary

2009-09-08T00:03:00.004-06:00

Robin and I both spoke to our beautiful moms today:

Mom Leach is in hospital for heart-observation. (As I requested in my previous post, please don't call my folks for a few days). {Get well soon, Mommy.}

Mom and Dad Phillips in East London have reached the milestone of their 53rd ANNIVERSARY. (Robin celebrated their golden wedding anniversary with them in 2006.)

We have much to learn from our parents about sacrificial love and patient endurance.

{We admire and appreciate you both, Mom and Dad. May God guide you in the days ahead.}

These have been interesting times for our family. May we never take for granted the privilege of being part of a family that cares and a community that shows kindness during times of stress. Thank you all for reaching out, for reading, for writing, for praying and caring.

EMP,
counting my blessings every day this new month

Sept 7: Labour Day and Leach update

2009-09-07T23:50:00.007-06:00

I’m writing to ask you to keep praying for our extended family. But please don’t phone my parents, much as they’ve appreciated the calls they’ve received already.

A month ago (Aug 7) my brother Wallace had his Jeep accident, as you know from earlier blog posts. When he came out of hospital, my sister Mari got measles and was admitted. (She temporarily lost her eyesight and could not drive.) Then my mom, Lynn, woke up speechless with laryngitis, followed by Tyla (the baby) contracting measles. Enough already!

Today (Monday) my sister called to say my mom has been admitted to hospital for observation of her heart. Less than a year ago she experienced what appeared to be early symptoms of heart failure, and was told to take it easy. This has not been a take-it-easy kind of month! In addition to looking after my brother when he came out of hospital, and then recovering from laryngitis, she also moved house. (Again.) I’m not sure my folks really know how to take it easy during a move; they do what needs doing until it’s done. :)

Half of the Leaches—and I do mean 50%—have been in hospital in the last month. They’re all desperately tired, and my brother is understandably depressed that his injuries are still so serious, and that his healing may take longer than he expected.

To readers-who-pray, please do so, in particular for my mommy’s stressed heart. What a month it’s been! (Oh, did I mention my dad has flu?)

On the Phillips front, all’s well here. Robin and I enjoyed a leisurely Labour Day. How did you spend your Monday?

Sept 1: Back to school

2009-09-01T23:10:00.010-06:00

Last week was Orientation.

This week we're back to school.

Although I miss my quiet(er) working-from-home days in the midst of ringing bells and school assignments, I do love the college and seminary students in my class each year. They're the reason I teach. (Any teachers out there?)

And because they're at university by choice, it's not quite the same as trying to teach high school kids English grammar or literature.

For my South African teaching practicum the year I graduated from Rand Afrikaans University (fifteen years ago) I had the dubious privilege of teaching Matric [Grade 12] boys Romeo and Juliet. :) Imagine.

Now I get to teach students ranging in age from 18 to 70 English and History of Western Civilization, and I am thankful.

Back to school,
EMP

Jesse, by Ellen Cone

2009-08-27T23:22:00.009-06:00

http://ellenincanada.blogspot.com/2009/08/celebrating-life-of-faithful-servant.html

Jesse, by Nick Melazzo

2009-08-26T22:44:00.005-06:00

http://nickmelazzo.wordpress.com/2009/08/26/jesse/

Jesse's journey

2009-08-26T22:43:00.003-06:00

http://jessemoralesjourney.blogspot.com/

Orientation

2009-08-26T22:39:00.003-06:00

This week is Orientation at the seminary where I have taught part-time for five years since graduating in 2003, and next week classes resume after our summer break.

I’ll be teaching English as usual, as well as History of Western Civilization. (Because of his passion for the subject, Robin will be my history consultant and technology assistant; he will team-teach with me and help with Power Point presentations etc. How splendid is that?)

I look forward to seeing all my lovely colleagues again; they have been marvellous during the periodic crises all of us face.

Last Leach update

2009-08-26T22:37:00.011-06:00

Dear everybody-who-has-followed-Wallace’s-progress

This will be my last Leach family update for the time being.

It has been a season of suffering in our extended household. In keeping with the Leach family’s month of misery, my mom, Lynn, has laryngitis and my sister, Mari, is in hospital with measles this week. Arrgh. Wallace has returned home to begin his long and difficult journey of recovery. May Chantal and Tyla bring him great comfort and joy. (The attached photos of my sweet niece are to cheer your heart.)

Thanks for your interest and care to date. Our family has been overwhelmed by the prayer support shown by kin and acquaintances alike. I believe God chose to save my brother’s life, and I remain deeply thankful. You are greatly appreciated and we value the ongoing kindness from our local and global community.

God be with you.

Elaine Mary

Post-midnight family phone call

2009-08-23T01:53:00.021-06:00

Two weeks have passed since Wallace’s car accident, and I spoke to my parents and sister last night to get an update on my beloved brother’s health. My dad called Wal to the phone and we chatted for ages. It was good to hear his voice again; he sounded almost chirpy. To state the obvious, these last few days have not been easy. I appreciate all my family’s hands-on care for each other. Wallace saw an ENT (ear, nose and throat) specialist and a maxo-facial surgeon this week and learned that he’d burst his eardrum and that the pain in the ear was caused by an inner ear infection, which is now under control (although his hearing may be affected).

His eye’s lateral rectus nerve (LR) is damaged, caused by his skull-base fracture which means that his eye has lost its ability to move (it appears “squint”); it also dries out quickly, thus needing constant ointment. The right side of his face is partly paralysed, some facial nerves are not functioning, and his broken cheekbones are causing some trouble. This means he has no feeling in part of his face: his teeth and sinuses (etc.) are affected. Most serious is the double vision caused by the damage in his patched eye. Because of his fractured skull, an operation on the base of the brain is not advisable (too risky as the nerve runs along the base of the brain), but in time some of the damage may heal on its own. The body truly is fearfully and wonderfully made!

Please continue to uphold Wal in your prayers; he is on the mend but still has a lo-o-ong way to go. We spoke candidly about many things tonight, as brothers and sisters are perhaps able to do after a(nother) life-threatening incident. (This is not the first—or second—time Wal’s loved ones have held what we thought was a “deathbed vigil” at his side; I pray it may be the last.)

Much of what we said to each other on the phone is personal, but I will say that I was delighted to listen to his lovely voice and hear his characteristic good humour coming my way across the continent and along the line. He knows he’s blessed to be alive (“lucky” is the word the doctor used), and that his life may even have a purpose. May our life-saving Creator help him find it.

{Be well, my brother. I love you.}

Aug 17: Jesse Morales goes Home

2009-08-18T21:49:00.004-06:00

http://www.jessemoralesjourney.blogspot.com/

Wallace update

2009-08-12T01:18:00.005-06:00

As a result of the tremendous outpouring of concern and kindness since I first asked our global community to pray for my brother, I have decided to send the following auto-response update:

Thank you for your kind thoughts and prayers. We are so thankful Wallace is mobile; there is no spinal or brain damage, although his facial injuries remain serious (both eyes and one ear are being monitored). Wal will see a maxo-facial surgeon (through one eye at a time) to discuss possible surgery on his crushed cheekbone(s).

I spoke to Wallace on Tuesday morning and he sounded ... wonderful! He was his old self, impatient to get on with life. My mom and sister have kept me updated daily and I spoke to my sister-in-law a minute ago; she’s looking forward to her hubby’s homecoming and hopes he’ll rest, hard-headed as he is (thankfully). Although Wal can’t see properly, he plans to be back at work as soon as possible. Imagine.

He was able to hold his baby girl, a highlight during these dark days, and many friends and relatives have visited him in hospital near Pretoria. Thank you all.

Although the road to full recovery is a long one, Wal is alive and we remain thankful that Chantal and baby Tyla Mari were not in the Jeep with him when it flipped over on our cousin’s farm road. Yesterday I saw photos of the Jeep’s shattered window and open sun roof, and Mari also sent photos of Wallace’s black ’n’ blue but beloved face. I am weeping as I type this, and remain in constant awe that my brother is alive. (I called his cell phone earlier simply to hear his voice.)

Personally, I am grateful for the compassion and care shown by our worldwide community this past weekend. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, on behalf of my family. I have no doubt that Wallace’s life was spared by God, and I am humbled by our Creator’s grace and mercy.

Tyla Mari was delighted to see her daddy after his accident.

Wallace goes through the roof

2009-08-10T23:01:00.009-06:00

On the weekend my brother, Wallace Leach, was in a serious car accident, fracturing his skull and sustaining what we all thought were life-threatening injuries. His Jeep flipped after hitting a pothole on our cousin’s farm and Wal went through the open sunroof. When Bennie found him he did not think he was alive. He was taken by ambulance to hospital and moved to ICU; surgery seemed likely.

However, by today (Tues) he was sufficiently stable to be transferred from ICU to a normal ward. Hallelujah! No operations have been necessary (yet). We are so thankful there is no apparent spinal or brain damage, although his other injuries remain serious. There doesn’t appear to be further swelling on Wal’s brain, although there’s still some bleeding. He is talking and moving (or rather, fighting—a good sign), and even asked for wine gums, a mutual family favourite.

Update to follow.

Eric the Half-a-Bee

2009-08-06T23:18:00.007-06:00

P.S. Here’s a ditty by Monty Python and John Cleese about Eric the Half-a-Bee to cheer one and all:

(I need to check this link and will temporarily delete it; return later or google YouTube.)

Willow Creek Leadership Summit

2009-08-06T23:17:00.003-06:00

Coming soon to a blog post near you.

Making a bee-line

2009-08-05T21:48:00.023-06:00

P.S. I am attaching Mary Anna Harbeck’s beautiful bee photo for your comfort and enjoyment. (See earlier post about "the wrong sort of bees.)

The wasp is added simply to attract sympathy.

Part ii: Robin goes south

2009-08-05T21:48:00.022-06:00

I have learned that Robin’s journey is his own; I am not to take it personally when he slips away at times; it is not about me. My spouse reminds me that he is irrational during these days of darkness and that I need to accept his illness without trying to “fix” him. I am trying (very trying).

But—believe it or not—I am also learning to embrace the journey, where once I endured it. I have come to see these bouts of blue as a means to grow, to settle my soul, deepen my roots, be more aware of our daily—hourly!—dependence on God.

I am blessed to be walking this often rocky road—sometimes crawling, sometimes limping—but edging forward, one faltering step at a time. We are not alone, and I thank God for our hands-on Cochrane and Calgary community of kindness, and for friends far and near.

I am learning what it means to be covenant-bound, to care beyond the borders of comfort and ease. I am s-l-o-w-l-y learning to reach out and touch Robin’s life with a love greater than my own. (It’s taken long enough, eh?) My frail attempts do little to help—although frequent foot rubs and back massages do seem to help Robin fall asleep.

I also believe that I need to be (mentally) healthy in order to support my mate, and to that end I continue to live a full and rich life, seeking out life-giving friends and spending much time refuelling in solitude and silence.

Thankfully, we have dear friends (and neighbours-who-now-live-in-Pincher-Creek) who provided sanctuary when Robin most needed it. He stayed for a few days and returned home replenished in body and soul to continue his brave journey.

I am learning to say no more often so as to have the energy to say yes where necessary.

That’s my story. My spouse walks as though through molasses. His story does not mirror my own, and all I can do is walk alongside him—sometimes moving ahead or bringing up the rear, prodding him to action when necessary. And always, always praying, often without words.

In Mark Cohn’s “True Companions” one line reads, “When the years have done irreparable harm, I can see us walking slowly arm in arm.”

Please think of our family in the coming days. I know Robin is a private a person from a stoic family; I also know that writers need to tell their own story. This is mine, and I’m sticking to it.

Part i: Double depression

2009-08-04T23:03:00.038-06:00

And now for something completely different. Take a break and pour yourself a fortifying cup.

Recently Robin’s existing dysthymia (considered chronic or “double depression”) has been exacerbated by various triggers. People with dysthymia have a greater-than-average chance of developing major depression. This condition is sometimes called “double depression” because an external trigger can result in a depressive episode, which spirals him downward into a black hole. The usual feelings of low mood are then accompanied by the new intensity of emotion.

As dysthymia is a chronic disorder, a person may often experience symptoms for many years before it is diagnosed, which was the case with Robin. His diagnosis a few years ago did not surprise me; I only wish we’d been able to get help sooner. I almost have to sedate him to get him to see a doctor (not an unusual trend in my family); he insists that they’ll find out what’s wrong with him at his autopsy. Hrmph.

Too often sufferers do not even discuss their symptoms with professionals, family members or friends. (How well I know that to be true. Sometimes I smile when I think about gentle solitude-seeking Robin from his seemingly safe, quiet and very private world choosing to marry into a boisterous family where some of us speak about everything to anyone.)

All this to say, Robin recently slipped into a deeper than usual depression. Thankfully he reached out to a friend who contacted the seminary, and two of my colleagues tracked us down in BC and spoke to Robin at length. They were wonderful. Since returning home he has been for counselling and will more than likely see a psychiatrist as soon as possible (meaning within several months in Calgary).

I do not pretend to understand his mental anguish, which is one of the reasons he reaches out mainly to friends who do—but I’ve certainly learned a great deal about depression since our journey began. Friends ask me if he brings me down, or if I pull him up. Possibly both, but for now the light is stronger than the darkness. May it ever be so.

All hands on deck, and the wrong sort of bees

2009-08-04T16:05:00.005-06:00

As I began this letter (written on Heritage Day, 3 August 2009, and updated later), which sensitive readers may need to break into smaller segments (you’ll get the point in a few paragraphs), I was unsure what title to use: “How to provoke a hornet and survive nature’s sting” is perhaps too waspish; “Sting operation” seems too short. I settled for “All hands on deck” and threw in A. A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh reference to pique the reader’s interest.

Put on the kettle and pull up a chair. Remember me? It’s been a while. My coffee companion, Warren Harbeck, wrote to ask, “What’s buzzin’ cuzzin?” when I droned on in a recent note. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened in the past few months {other than snow on your June birthday, Dad, which isn’t all that extraordinary in Alberta}.

We attended one June and one July wedding (where Robin was the primary photographer), and spent a couple of weeks in Surrey with a sweet and special family. Robin did the post-wedding photo processing at the bride’s home and gave her the albums when she returned from her honeyMoon.

This summer we’re also preparing for the semester ahead: my history-loving husband and I will be co-teaching History of Western Civ. All in all, life in Cochrane’s slow lane has been good.

Let me not forget the bevy of birthday boys and girls. My dear friend Tammy—with whom it is my privilege to spend Tuesday evenings—turned 40 in early July: that was special. And her twins celebrated their 7th birthday.

{Wallace and Dad, do you remember holding the newborn duo in July 2002 when you were last here visiting me?}

And Robin and I spent our annual week at the lake in Vernon with most hospitable hosts. No crises to speak of.

And then suddenly, a couple of weeks ago, all h*ll broke loose in the Phillips household. To test your sense of humour and of perspective, let me begin with today’s wasp attack (and this time I don’t mean those Anglo-Saxon Protestants).

I awoke before daylight (my blinds were drawn) to the melodious hum of my landlord’s chainsaw outside my bedroom window. Finding no alternative but join the crew as a deckhand, I dressed in a long-sleeved flannel shirt and work jeans and reported for duty. This week we are redoing our deck.

Yesterday after church I helped Mike and Pat clear the deck for the tasks of today, and decided to leave emptying the last of several planters (heavy black tyres filled with soil and a variety of tall ornamental grasses) for today because of the recent scorching mid-thirties temps. This morning as I pulled up a clump of grass, an angry array of black-and-yellow-jacketed bugs swarmed up from their cosy earth-nest.

My very first reaction was “Stay calm, they won’t sting you if you stand still.” (Not sure what movie that came from, but don’t try it at home.) Second reaction was an image of Winnie the Pooh holding onto a balloon while stealing bee-honey ... and getting stung by “the wrong sort of bees.”

Since I didn’t know if my landlord was allergic to wasps, my initial instinct was to protect him and get the nest away from him and off the deck. This reaction unearthed a chain of consequences, to say the least. “Mike!” I yelled (since that’s his name and expletives didn’t seem appropriate … yet), but he didn’t hear me because he was wearing ear protectors.
Then I performed what may well be my first ever supernatural act: I picked up the black rubber planter with its full load of earth and flora, and flung it down the deck stairs. (Bear in mind I have not been able to move these planters in five years, even with a helper.) I then jumped—stumbled—down the stairs, closely followed by Mike.

First I felt an unpleasant buzzing in my ear and yelped in surprise. Next I became aware of what seemed to be dozens of insects settling on my sleeves. And then the fiery darts pierced my skin and the wasp-venom entered my blood. (Isn’t that a truly theatrical sentence? See, I’ve made you read it again, savouring the word “fiery.”)

To find out how wasp toxins work, click on this link: http://animals.howstuffworks.com/insects/wasp3.htm

All of this happened in a black-and-yellow blur. In retrospect, I should have left well enough alone and hightailed it off the deck as soon as I spotted the first incensed insect, but … we all know how hindsight works. I slapped wildly at my arms and started to run. “Get into the house!” I heard Mike’s wife yell from the garden below the deck. Instead I made a bee-line to my next door neighbour, Irma, who flung open the front door as she saw me sprinting up her pathway.

All swell that end swell: Mike and Pat were not stung, thankfully, and I received only a couple of stings on my arms and one in my ear. Yikes. A not-to-be-repeated adventure! Outfitted in a beekeeper’s head covering, Mike courageously returned to the scene of the crime and sprayed the nest, killing dozens of insects and hundreds of larvae. Irma kindly provided lotion for the stings on my arms and suggested I take an antihistamine (I doubled the dose); she also administered some much-appreciated pain meds.

Within minutes I was fine and my hands had stopped shaking. (I felt calm but may have acted hysterically.) Surprisingly, the swelling was minimal and I lessened the burn by applying an icepack. Now only an inner itch remains. Secretly I think it was the strong tea with sugar and the serenity of my neighbour-nurse that diminished the shock.

Research suggests that years of antihistamine injections for assorted childhood allergies paid off after all. {Mom, do you remember Dr. Des Sonnenfeld saying, “This is going to hurt you more than it’s going to hurt me”? I always smiled at that.}

There’s more to this letter than meets the eye in this entry. See next post.

July 3: Tammy turns 40

2009-07-02T23:34:00.004-06:00

Happy 40th, Tammy!

June 3: CPO, "Pops in the Park"

2009-06-03T23:54:00.005-06:00

Stay tuned for photos of CPO's "Pops in the Park" ... and my favourite conductor, M. Pierre Simard.

June 2: Spring concert in Cochrane

2009-06-02T23:32:00.004-06:00

Stay tuned for photos of Riverside Jazz, Band on the Bow ... and the Red Hat Ladies!

June 1: Tyla Mari Leach is born!

2009-06-01T18:47:00.011-06:00

Perspective

2009-05-31T22:19:00.015-06:00

Dear NLSC Readers

The merry but busy month of May has ended well and June’s blank page awaits.

Happy Birthday to all June babes—too many to name, although I must mention my newest niece’s imminent arrival this coming week: I’ll share the latest Leach news as soon as I hear from eager parents, Wallace and Chantal. {Godspeed, little Tyla.} I also feel compelled to highlight my Aunt Nel’s birthday on the 5th (my great aunt is the sole remaining sibling of my Ouma’s baker’s dozen); my Dad’s on the 6th; and my sister Mari’s on the 24th.

Remind me if your birthday is in June—please and thank you.

Now for the reason for this letter’s title:

This past week has been a trifle trying. On top of feeling low physically since our recent “heat wave” (27ºC on Friday)—my body no longer remembers how to cope with extended sunshine!—I’ve experienced a couple of wearisome people-encounters this week. I’ll spare you the details but to use a favourite student’s expression, it’s time for me to “pull up my huggies,” and get on with my life. I realise I’m not as thick-skinned as I claim to be (or as I once was, out of necessity).

To counterbalance my current loony/lunar cycle, several notes of grace and cheer have come my way during the past week (see postscript for one gem in particular that deserves a minute and 14 seconds of your time).

After my (fifth!) annual evaluation with our academic dean to check on my progress as an adjunct instructor, I gratefully accompanied my gardening neighbour to a nursery/greenhouse in town, and on the way home Irma and I stopped at Angel’s in Bowness for a swirl of soft serve ice cream. The next day I went for a long riverside walk in lieu of gym, and that afternoon I attended the piano recital of my family-friend’s twins (I practise being a “proud auntie” whenever I can). Ethan and Spencer are the sweetest six-year-old violin and piano players I know! I look forward to a twin-recital-filled future….

This weekend we also hosted a missions conference at our church. The speaker, Daniel Zapoula, gave the audience a priceless gift, one I pray I’ll treasure as long as I live … perspective. I’ve tried and failed to find adequate words to describe his moving message, and so I’ve taken the liberty of stealing a paragraph from a friend’s letter, hot off the cyber press. {I’ll write and ask for permission soon, LA!}

In her weekly Amstutz Journal, Lori wrote:

“We had the opportunity to listen to the experiences of [Daniel Zapoula] a bushman from Burkina Faso … He shared his story of what it was like … from being in a family of 35 children in Africa, to having the opportunity to receive an education here in Canada. What he shared with us helped put so much in perspective. What we consider big issues in our lives were dwarfed by his stories of simply trying to survive … He now runs a ministry called Bridges of Hope, where he helps those who are in the situations he faced as a young boy. Listening to him share was like a reverse missions trip. We didn’t have to go visit those who do not enjoy the comforts that we take for granted here in Canada and the U.S. We just listened to his stories first hand.” {Thanks, Lori.}

Daniel reminded us all to rise above earthly concerns—money, materialism, matters of no eternal consequence—and try and view life from a heavenly perspective; I’ve done so for only one day and already I find myself letting go of unimportant slights and hurts and perceived offences and losses, and focusing on what really matters: relationships.

After today’s rather intense sermon (punctuated by a chorus of Amens and Hallelujahs truly rare for Mennonites), the missions team enjoyed a leisurely lunch with our animated African guest until we dispatched him to the airport. On time.

My much-needed Sunday afternoon nap (although not uninterrupted) was a relief. Three neighbours rang the doorbell on separate occasions, but although I opened the door (they were rather insistent with their bell-ringing since they knew I was home), I resisted all their kind invitations to pop over and visit, celebrate a birthday, watch a movie or enjoy a hot tub. I seldom get headaches and this one’s lingering—I suspect from the symptoms that it’s a migraine—so I stood my (shaky) ground and continued my nap. I think I’ll start posting a “do not disturb” sign on my door for reasons of health and sanity. :)

Starting on July 1, I’ve decided to take the last/first day of the month off as a day of silence and solitude, unless I’m teaching. Within weeks I feel the effects of spending too little time on my own. I’m finally learning that, much as I love people, I need to honour the boundaries of my soul. I have more to give, more to write, more to say—heaven forbid!—when I’ve been alone for a day or two. I even speak more s-l-o-w-l-y, at least for a few days.

I can feel when I’ve been running too fast, and others can sense it too. I get more cranky than usual (!) and when labels I consider incorrect—such as “ADD” and “hyper” and “manic”—are unfairly applied to me, I really lose my cool. “Please don’t confuse enthusiasm for life with mania,” I somewhat snippily told a colleague at Tim Horton’s on Saturday.

(Even on calm, quiet days I am angered by labels, but a wise friend gently suggested on the weekend I look for the kernel of truth in how others see me. So: how do you see me? :) Risky question, eh?)

After my soothing slumber I called a dear friend for her birthday and was blessed by her gentle voice and kind encouragement. I am humbled by the mentors and fellow pilgrims God has placed on my journey. I learn so much from these wise counsellors and companions along the way.

Now for my nightly hour of writing and end-of-month bath … and then back to bed; tomorrow’s another beautiful day.

Grateful for a renewed sense of perspective tonight,
Elaine Mary

P.S. Just when I most needed cheering up last week, this inspiring snippet arrived in my Inbox, sent by my friend in Vancouver—whom I’ve known this year longer than I haven’t. “It’s all about attitude,” my friend reminded me. {Thanks, CW.} In the 1-min. 14-sec. video, Fran and Marlo Cowan (married 62 years) play an impromptu recital together in the atrium of the Mayo Clinic. Mr. Cowan turned 90 in February. Hope it makes your day:

http://www.fark.com/cgi/vidplayer.pl?IDLink=4365716

Part V: CPO in Cochrane, conducted by Maestro Pierre Simard

2009-05-24T23:37:00.023-06:00

Yesterday (May 23) I attended a sumptuous spring brunch at our church.

Last night I dressed up and took myself out on a cultural date (“She wore blue velvet”) and sat beside retired colleagues and unretired friends Barbara and David. The Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra played at our local Alliance Church and it was a performance too beautiful for words, so I’ll say nothing further. For now. (There is plenty to say about their magnificent music.)

The sunset photo (see above) was taken on my walk home after the show.

(Top right: that’s me with the CPO conductor, M. Pierre Simard, who spoke briefly to me in French—my skills are rusty, so the conversation did not last long—telling me what a plaisir it was to make my acquaintance. I’ll be sure to try and see him on Vancouver Island when I’m there visiting friends in the next few years. I had the privilege of attending a CPO concert last year in Calgary at the luxurious Jack Singer hall, conducted by Monsieur Simard. I admit I’m a tiny bit smitten.)

Today was a restful day, as Sundays always are in the Phillips household, our afternoon nap being mandatory. Now I’m catching up on mail before retiring with a good book. Work awaits in the morn!

Part IV: Eat s’more

2009-05-24T23:09:00.008-06:00

On Friday night (May 22), in part payment for RP’s accounting and tax services (!) our Twelve Mile Coulee hosts cooked up a smorgasbord of savoury delights (curry ’n’ rice; butter chicken; samosas; veg ’n’ fresh fruit)—a culinary cornucopia, followed by s’mores around the fire pit! I was the only one with room remaining for the roasted marshmallows.

{Thank you, H&L. Same time next month?}

Part III: Sun ’n’ snow ’n’ rain

2009-05-24T23:08:00.005-06:00

Next day:
Yes, it snowed—again—last Monday (May 18). It invariably does on the May long weekend. Amazing.

I took two pics of our garden and deck in the early morn just before the snow melted. “Spring has sprung, the grass is ris ...” I can hear it growing at night.

This past week has sped by. I’ve been feeling a tiny bit under the weather for a few days ... an odd occurrence almost each year when the warmer temps finally arrive. Too strange for words. (Just as well I live in a climate where it snows for nine months, eh?)

So, a glum few days followed after last weekend’s spring sun ’n’ snow. I was even told once that I’m allergic to sun! (Is there such an allergy?!) Nothing a bit of gardening in the rain couldn’t cure. I limit myself to no more than three hours at a time ... otherwise I awake the next day feeling old and rickety. After making and consuming a pot of homemade veggie soup I’m—well, right as rain once more.

{Thanks for your mid-week input, Paul J and Jef T, and for hand-delivering Mayfair’s sweet little twin, Piccadilly, to Glenbrook Pond Hippo Sanctuary.}

Part II: Shado ’n’ sunshine—and all things equestrian

2009-05-24T22:52:00.031-06:00

The next day (May 17) after church, Roy harnessed his beautiful black half-Arabian horse to a buggy and took me for a 23ºC spin. (I even held Shado’s royal reins!) The weather was sunburn-warm and breezy, and I could hardly believe the farmer’s snow forecast for the next day. I’ve always admired horses from afar, even though I’ve had (too) little to do with them up close and personal. I hope that will change this year! A client of R’s has offered to take me out riding at Griffin Ranch soon. The countryside here is perfect for horse rides.

The last time I rode was in Banff with my brother, Wallace, in July 2002. How well I remember the bird-sized mosquitoes, sweet-blooded soul that I seem to be. We also went tubing on the Bow that summer, and speeding across Horseshoe Bay in Vancouver, discussing items on our life to-do lists.

{Great memories, Wal.}

Part I: Picnic in the park

2009-05-24T22:51:00.022-06:00

What’s a picnic without watermelon?

Last Sunday (May 16)—after meeting our Fairman family at Java {thanks for Mayfair, the sweet little hippo!}—I spent part of the day picnicking with friends Evie and Roy at Big Hill Springs Park, north of Cochrane.

(I’ll post a few of Evie’s sweet pics if I figure out how to do so: DONE!)

We feasted on fellowship, hot chicken and cold salad, mouthwatering raspberry/peach cobbler and my favourite fruit. Any guesses? :)

Hubble-the-young-hippo—who belongs to (retired) Hroshi—joined us for a bite of watermelon, a walk in the woods and a swim in the creek. Hubble is the newest writer to join our gregarious herd of Glenbrook Pond hippos, entertaining us with her tales of Africa.

[Watch this space.]

First week of May

2009-05-09T10:57:00.060-06:00

Dear NLSC Reader

My writing accountability partner asked me to share a few interesting things I’ve been up to this past week; here are fourteen, more or less, plus a few special dates (I see they’re mostly people-related, which possibly explains my desire today for complete solitude).

1. Last Friday (May 1) my students’ grades were due; I submitted them to my registrar and sighed with relief.
2. After finalising my grades, I tried my weary best to complete both my already-overdue Baptist Horizon articles for May. I had begun compiling a Seminary Day piece (or rather, patching together the samples sent in by students to form a quilt of quotes), and input was rather s-l-o-w because of final exams. Our gracious editor granted us a welcome extension. May she be blessed and may the Shelton tribe prosper!
3. Late on Friday afternoon I popped next door for my monthly B12 shot; Nurse Irma is an angel—and has become a friend over the past 4½ years that we’ve shared a fence (and watched each other pull up weeds in our respective gardens). We also share the same birth date (Feb 2) and the left-handed gene; we currently have a (growing) list of at least a dozen bizarre common interests: e.g. same build, heritage, sport and cultural entertainment preferences, clothing style, (original) hair colour, favourite music and hobbies, etc. Too funny!
4. That night I attended a grad dessert during which the graduands shared humorous and moving anecdotes about their seminary experiences. I realised how much I had come to love them. This year was the first time two of the students I’d taught were graduating (next year there will be more, and two years from now I’ll have taught the entire graduating class of college students). Since all four courses I’ll be teaching in the coming year(s) are compulsory, I get to know all the undergrads. A perennial pleasure!
5. Saturday’s graduation ceremony was simply beautiful. The speaker, Pastor Rick Lamb, was splendid (I’ll request a transcript of his message so as to add a quote to the short grad piece I’ll write for the next edition of the Horizon).
6. On Sunday I had the privilege of preaching at Dalhousie Community Church. My text was Ephesians 2:10; my topic “God’s Masterpiece.”
7. A tasty barbecue lunch (baby potatoes, grilled chicken, spinach salad, ice cream and fresh berries), prepared by Calgary friends Eleanor and Peter, refreshed our spirits and refuelled our bodies.
8. Our Sunday afternoon nap was definitely the most relaxing part of our weekend!
9. On Sunday night it was my joy to babysit for dear neighbours so that they could go on a date. Mahalia (4), Tobias (2) and baby Selah (6 months) were their usual sweet selves. Mom Andrea drove me home and we chatted for a further half-hour in the car. (Note: this is a rare exception to my no-babysitting policy.)
10. Monday? While out ’n’ about, moments after chatting to my friend in her garden, I bumped into my neighbour-colleague Susan taking her dog for a walk (or being taken for a walk); I came home feeling community-connected.
11. Tuesday: lunch at Norma’s on Railway Ave. with Brigitte R; prayer in the sunshine after coming home.
12. “Tuesdays with Tammy” is what I call my weekly coffee dates with my non-writing accountability partner; she remains a faithful friend after more than a decade of regular get togethers. We ordered art-lattes at Java and left only when the baristas kicked us out! Tammy, one of a tiny minority, truly does not think I talk too much. Believe me, I know my own faults (and if I didn’t I’d quickly be reminded by kith and kin), so it’s not hard being with someone who considers me a “scintillating conversationalist” when others wonder what language I’m speaking. :) I also love not having to decrease my rapid rate of speech in her company, as I do when I teach and preach (and interact with Southerners). Enough said.
13. Wednesday, May 6, was our 14th wedding anniversary. Suffice it to say: Robin is a saint. He’s a good man, a gentleman, and the only man on earth who tells me I talk too little! I admit, I am rather quiet at home, believe it or not. Even our landlords say they never hear me. My secret? I save my pearls for queenly friends who value my (many) words. :)
14. After gym on Wednesday with Wilmien and a new gym partner (Debbie R), Robin and I went to Norma’s for brunch (an annual tradition). Delicious!

Special dates:

Thursday, May 7, was my big brother’s birthday, and a much-needed day of rest for me (other than checking the final pdf page layouts before the Horizon went to print); to celebrate the end of the semester, I started a new (unputdownable) book by Alan Bradley: The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie. On Friday, May 8, my parents (Ian and Lynnette Leach) celebrated their 44th wedding anniversary!

CONGRATULATIONS, and Happy Birthday to all May babes (remind me who you are, please).

Today I’m catching up on some long-neglected domestic engineering, and tomorrow
(Sunday) I’ll spend Mother’s Day with our usual Little/Mung family (in celebration of Tammy’s mom). HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY to all moms! Thank you for your sacrificial love.

Monday is my monthly writing day, hooray! I’m finally learning to carve our cyber-silent time simply to write each week, and once a month I meet with someone whose writing goals match my own. I’ll join my friend in her peaceful sanctuary and we’ll check on each other’s progress, offering the mutual encouragement necessary for the somewhat solitary process of putting pen to paper.

Do write and tell me what interesting things you’ve been up to, dear Reader! Hearing from loved ones across the continent and around the corner still makes my day, after all these years as a global correspondent ...

EMPh

Emph Attic: 14th Phillips anniversary

2009-05-06T21:53:00.004-06:00

Today, 6 May 2009 ...

... Robin and I celebrate fourteen years of having and holding, from that day (6 May 1995) forward, “for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and cherish ’til death us do part.”

(Hmmn, I recall saying “to honour and obey”!)

Celebrate with us!

Robin and Elaine Mary forever-Phillips

Emph Attic: Hroshi the hippo turns 13

2009-04-25T23:16:00.022-06:00

A hearty welcome to “Emph Attic”!

“Emph Attic” is a letter I’ll send out once in a blue moon, starting today, on days when the desire to share much ado about nothing simply cannot be quenched. It does not replace my regular Northern Lights/Southern Cross column (posted on this blog); however, the (non-blog) readership differs slightly.

Happy Birthday to all Readers (and hippos) born in April. Hroshi, our purple-eared hippo-child (who travels, writes books and generally brings cheer to the Phillips household), turned 13 today—or rather, we celebrated her 13th “birth” day with us.

In 1996, the Czech family with whom we lived in Prague during our memorable year in Europe sent her home with us to South Africa. Little did they know we’d immigrate to Calgary, Canada in 1998, taking our travelling companion with us!

Since then this amazing creature has accomplished much, considering the limitations of her stuffing-filled mind. She has continued to travel, make friends around the world (hippos are gregarious) and act as CEO of hippo communications inc. (co-run by Chief Financial Officer, Robin Phillips).

As many Readers already know, Hroshi and her unicorn friend, Evangeline, published an anthology of letters late in 2007 called The Hippo and the Unicorn. There are still a few copies left, and I have no foreseeable plans to order a new shipment, so please let me know if you’d still like a copy.

(Also remind me if you’ve ordered one and not yet received it: I lost my way, administratively speaking, sometime last year, and am only now finding it again.)

Among other interesting projects, Hroshi is currently working on a new book about her great-niece, Hubble (the sweetest little hippo-soul from Botswana). Watch this space!

Hroshi turns 13

2009-04-25T20:01:00.008-06:00

Happy birthday, Hroshi!

Apr 11: Holy Saturday

2009-04-11T22:33:00.054-06:00

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday.

Happy Easter, dear regular NLSC Readers (and a few seasonal souls).

I am filled with awe as I think of what the resurrection means—if we let the truth of the cross of Christ touch our lives. Our God-given free will is simultaneously dangerous and splendid—and a complete mystery to me!

Last night I attended a Good Friday service at a local church and surprised myself by weeping bitterly throughout the closing song. I walked home through the park, and on impulse I opened the garden gate leading to my neighbours’ house and walked up the path to their back door. A party was in full swing and I was graciously invited inside. “Stay for supper,” they insisted. My earnest pleas(e) fell on deaf ears. I stayed.

Halfway through the meal, with a smidgen of embarrassment, I suddenly realised I’d already eaten with my hubby before I left for church! (Did that stop me from indulging in seconds, followed by decadent dessert? Not at all. I have a special storage space in my legs for delicious home-cooked meals. Just last week I saw a sign at the Dollar Store that read “Supper’s ready when the smoke alarm goes off.” Hmmn. Made for my kitchen. Robin orders his pizza crust extra-well-done, so as to remind him of my cooking. But I digress.)

After my Hobbit-like second supper last night—after which my hosts played a board game with their guests while I gratefully and gleefully washed the dishes; it’s so hard to get good help these days—we were all treated to several moving renditions of the guests’ favourite songs. I found myself in tears for the second time that evening. What beauty! What passion! What rich voices they both have. I shall certainly write more about this gifted duo if they follow their hearts and start singing in public again after a silent year.

And then today dawned sky-blue and clear with the unexpected promise of additional blessings. Can one solitary life contain such sweet abundance? On the spur of the moment, my writing-accountability-partner phoned and invited me for tea. Through the park I meandered once more, this time in the opposite direction, along the Bow River’s edge and all the way to River View. E and I chatted up a storm, heartily agreeing to continue our monthly meetings for the purpose of mutual encouragement, inspiration and edification. I left for home with a blithe spirit and happy heart.

I wasn’t home five minutes when the doorbell rang and another tea-drinker’s daughter asked if I’d join her mom at Tim Horton’s. I partly rebuttoned the shirt I’d been in the process of removing, slipped on my muddy shoes and headed back out the door!

Tea for two at Timmie’s was a treat, and two of my companion’s church friends joined us for part of our visit (you’ll be pleased to know we immediately switched to our common tongue in the interests of enhanced communication). Cochrane community certainly has the power to cheer one’s heart and lift one’s spirits—not that my spirits needed a lift after my amiable amble through the park, greeting bicycle riders and dog-walkers and familiar picnicking families and spring-cheered children.

Now it’s time for bed after a most satisfying holy day spent visiting and equally satisfying pre-Easter night spent writing.

Be of good cheer: Christ is risen! He is risen indeed.

P.S. Brad, may I please share the following bluefishTV Easter video from your blog?
http://bradhuebert.blogspot.com/2009/04/weekend-video-he-was.html

Let it snow!

2009-03-29T15:22:00.010-06:00

[March snow photos to be inserted here.]

What's in a name?

2009-03-29T15:22:00.007-06:00

[Sermon outline to be added here.]

St. Patrick's Day at Mount St. Francis

2009-03-17T23:11:00.007-06:00

[Photos of MSF, Hermitage hut]

Dan's song

2009-03-01T23:14:00.008-07:00

Tonight, for the second time in two weeks, I surprised myself (and my spouse and neighbours) by offering to babysit once again. The three little Rempels were angels; the oldest had put herself to bed by the time I arrived (she does that when she's tired), the second was lying quietly in bed, enjoying his last sippy cup for the night, and the third nodded off later in the evening after a warm bottle of her favourite drink.

(Although I have known each of the Rempel children since birth, and obviously love them equally, this little newborn has completely stolen my heart.) Last week I tried to talk her mommy and daddy into leaving their baby behind when they went out on their date, but they chose to take her along; this week she and I stayed home together and enjoyed some (baby) girl time. I dealt with long-overdue correspondence; she gurgled and made soothing baby sounds and finally slept. (And no, I haven't been lulled into a false sense of peace by these brief babysitting experiences; I visit our neighbours frequently enough to be familiar with the trio's top decibels.)

An incident that moved me to tears occurred when my charges' mommy and daddy came home after their coffee date. Dan's best friend also popped by, and Andrea asked her hubby to sing their wedding song for the four of us. Although he was reluctant at first, he finally agreed, warning us that he had been only twenty-one when he wrote it for his bride.

Well.

I cried through the entire rendition (I think Andrea did, too). It was the loveliest wedding song I'd heard in years—possibly since our own wedding day, fourteen years ago—and Dan’s lyrics affected me profoundly. What struck me was that this young composer had no idea at the time how his life would unfold, and his wife admitted the words were even more real to her now than then. Dan sang of storms to come, and of his commitment to his new family, and of the sword of hope to be found in Christ ...

In the past four years, their household has been blessed with the births of four children. One of these darlings has died, and the storms have raged. Yet here they stand: trusting in the healing and hope found only in their Creator. When their sorrows overwhelm them and they stumble and fall, they get up again. And again. God provides family and friends for the journey. His love reunites and gently carries them through each new season of pain, and growth, and victory.

Robin and I are proud of our young friends. They have lived such full lives already, and we look forward to growing old, old with them.

Late night thoughts on February 22

2009-02-22T23:22:00.036-07:00

My neighbour celebrated his 28th birthday today, and on impulse I phoned his wife this morning and offered to babysit their kiddies if they wanted to go out tonight. (They did. I’m not sure who was more surprised by my offer: my friends, my spouse or myself! I seldom babysit for anyone. Never, in fact.)

I returned home about an hour ago and was preparing for bed when I felt the urge to capture a few thoughts about my day.

Thought #1: It is a privilege being part of a community of kindness.

Both here in Cochrane and at our church in Calgary, Robin and I are surrounded by people who care ... about us, about others, about God. We do not wish to take this for granted, ever. Some of our friends care passionately about the environment, or about education, or about instilling godly values in our children. Others care for those in prison, in hospital or in crisis. Still others care about the powerless, the marginalised, the oppressed, the forgotten. Several talented artists, writers and musicians inspire us by caring about beautiful images, stories and sounds. And I can think of at least half a dozen political and social justice activists in my circle of friends. At work my kingdom colleagues care about sharing Good News with anyone who has ears to hear. Personally, I care about words, and the power they carry for healing and encouragement.

Thought #2: I have been challenged to care for “the least of these” in a new way.

Today in church our youth pastor preached from Matthew 25, creatively using Dr. Seuss’s Horton Hears a Who by way of illustration. {Great job, Tom.} I will reflect further on his sermon; much food for thought.

Thought #3: Today I realised (or rather, remembered) that each of us has different dreams, callings and spiritual gifts.

During a recent London Fog-sharing visit with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while, my gift was to encourage her in her calling (although for personal reasons I have chosen not to fully embrace her particular cause). I recognise that if I were to spend my time moping about not having a “worthy” enough occupation—in comparison to those of my eclectic range of loved ones—I’d fail to use the talents I have been given (biblically speaking). At least once every year or two I wade through this idiotic pool of comparison, and always, always, my life work seems insignificant during the exercise (a fruitless one, to say the least). But deep down I know my life is full and rich and good—and scandalously privileged. I see that.

I also believe I’m obeying my Father by using my inherent gift of encouragement to uplift the hearts of those around me—even though the effects cannot be measured, and no one’s life is saved because of my passion for sharing words of joy. But share I must. It’s as natural to me as breathing.

These were some of my thoughts on this wintry February night. Comments? Feel free to share your own passions/calling with me ...

Good remembering

2009-01-28T23:11:00.019-07:00

Today in chapel (Wed, Jan 28) my colleague Barry Nelson preached from 2 Peter 1. I'll type up some of my notes another day (perhaps even on another blog, since I've been thinking about starting to collect the cornucopia of ideas so many wise mentors share with me), but for now let me tell you about his title: "Good Remembering."

He reminded us to ... well, remember.

And I do remember.

I remember when we arrived in Canada in '98 and knew not a single soul in Alberta. Now we are surrounded by a community of kindness here in Cochrane, and Calgary, and Canada-wide. (Some days we even choose to field phonecalls because we receive too many for comfort.)

I remember when we owned not a stitch of furniture because our container had sunk in Hurricane Mitch, and our church family provided for us materially (and spiritually) in ways we still find hard to comprehend, a decade later.

I remember walking through the doors of Dalhousie Community Church and hearing "Shine, Jesus, shine" being sung -- a favourite of mine since our days at Bedfordview Methodist Church back in South Africa (where I began attending as a pre-teen, and walked down the aisle to marry my lifemate a dozen years later). We have been at home at DCC ever since -- and just last Sunday we sang "Shine, Jesus, shine" once again.

I remember every stranger in the church and wider community who treated us with warmth and affection when we were still aliens in their midst. Now we are friends. Those early friendships have matured and blossomed over the years, and we are in awe when we look back ... and remember.

I remember enrolling at the local Baptist seminary in 2000 (with the dubious blessing of my Mennonite pastor, who thought I would have a more heterogeneous experience in Fresno, CA; I reminded him I was from Johannesburg, and that a bit of Cochrane's homogeneity wouldn't harm me). I was a bit apprehensive at what a Master's degree in Divinity would entail, and I went out to King's Fold to make my final decision about whether or not to study full-time again (I had just completed a Master's degree in Linguistics in '97/'98 and was loathe to subject myself to further mental discipline). And now, nine years later, I'm still at the seminary, loving my job as an adjunct instructor, and working alongside the very mentors who guided me so patiently through many of my own spiritual and intellectual battles.

I remember meeting a special family at a dessert fellowship hosted by our new church. We chose to stay at DCC, and they chose to leave, but during that first meeting of the minds (and hearts) we bonded. Now we have been adopted into their extended family, comprising a Canadian mom and dad, three sisters and three brothers (roughly our ages), and an assortment of children we've known since birth. We have the privilege of spending special occasions together as a family, and not a month goes by without one of us celebrating a birthday or sacred event. Tomorrow R and I will join two of our family/friends for a Chinese meal in Calgary, in celebration of our Jan 25 and Feb 2 birthdays.

I remember when the hippo and unicorn book was a mere dream in 2004, and now I've sold the 250 copies I set out to sell (and give away!). And my new dream is to write on my own -- a book a year, lofty as that goal seems at present. I will cherish this dream, and work a bit each day to turn it into a reality. And I will remember.

{Thanks, Barry N, for your timely reminder today in chapel.}

Let us remember, and give thanks.

Pre-birthday weekend

2009-01-25T21:24:00.014-07:00

What a wonderful weekend I spent out at the King's Fold Retreat and Renewal Centre: words hardly seem adequate. The food was soul-satisfying, the fellowship sweet, and the teachings divine. Rob Low, a longtime friend of King's Fold, was our retreat leader; he used to work there full-time when I first visited what soon became one of my favourite sacred spaces in '99. (Now he and I enjoy monthly mini-retreats at Mount Saint Francis, a Catholic retreat centre closer to home.)

Because the New Year, New Life retreat took place so close to my birthday, I chose to stay in the Hideaway instead of the main lodge {with apologies to Dee}. The Hideaway is a tree house situated in the forest, a short distance from the chapel. I have been going there each year to celebrate my birthday in solitude and silence, but this year I may do something a bit different on Feb 2nd, so I combined the retreat and my annual tree-treat.

All in all, I was refreshed in body and spirit, and I returned home with my joy fully replenished. After a weekend away, I am more able to carry whatever life brings, and my hubby is gracious (and wise) enough to encourage my time away from the usual array of responsibilities (and burdens?) we both bear.

R has been suffering in his own spirit of late, and we trust that the darkness will lift in due course. Several factors in combination play a role; it's hard to find one specific trigger. But Tax Season cometh, and we both know that we need to be strong for the season ahead. I have noticed that his sadness is not affecting me as much this week as in bygone days; I am actually able to help him deal with his depression in ways I wasn't able to even a year ago, and that brings us hope. Despite the occasional poverty, life is rich and full and good. And our Creator is faithful. We have not been given more than we can bear, and in that we take comfort.

I am truly content during this pre-birthday week. This has been my best year to date ...

New Year’s resolutions

2008-12-29T13:58:00.018-07:00

I hereby resolve to keep at least 4 of the following 40 resolutions:

1. Appreciate life in all its fullness.
2. Bake bread and make fresh soup.
3. Be alone more. Seek solitude.
4. Be at peace with God, myself and others. Live a life of harmony and integrity as far as possible.
5. Be free with my own time. “In N. America we have the clock; in Africa we have the time.” Aim to be punctual for appointments, church, school and work. Respect others’ time.
6. Be frugal; live simply. Keep spending to a minimum.
7. Be joyful. Inner joy is a fruit of God’s Spirit; it does not depend on my circumstances.
8. Be more intentional about time with friends. Be present. Enjoy the company of diverse people.
9. Be spontaneous. Listen to my soul when unexpected “interruptions” occur. Say yes sometimes (and remember that no is a full sentence).
10. Be thankful for God’s new mercies every morning. Share good news. (Tell God. Tell others.)
11. Cook more (but not too much more). Appreciate the meals others prepare for me.
12. Create more: artwork, books, cards ... letters, poetry.
13. Discipline myself more—for the sake of freedom and growth, not legalism.
14. Do an hour (or more) each day of what’s necessary—but not necessarily nice.
15. Drink more—definitely more water (and tea), perhaps even more whisk(e)y and wine! :)
16. Encourage someone. Call a friend. Meet for coffee. Write a cheery note. Share flow’rs.
17. Give away two items for every one purchased.
18. If possible, buy nothing new other than food or bare necessities (preferably on sale).
19. Learn to worship God as a Person. See God’s character in Jesus, and in His Spirit. Embrace the mystery of the Trinity. Communicate with abba Father as modelled by Jesus.
20. Listen to music and poetry.
21. Live sacrificially. Be generous with gifts of time and money.
22. Notice beauty everywhere.
23. Order a small space in our home each day. (Order Chinese food once in a while.)
24. Pay attention—and try not to sound like a teacher all the time. :)
25. Plan a quiet day each week, a retreat day each month, a week away each year.
26. Play more. Laugh more. Draw cartoons. Finger paint. Make a mess. Maintain a sense of humour—and a sense of the ridiculous. Take myself less seriously.
27. Play piano with wild abandon. Plan an annual dessert recital with my next-door neighbour.
28. Pray without ceasing. Be in conversation with God throughout the day (and in the waking hours of the night). Remember His eternal presence. Take Truth more seriously.
29. Read more. Share good books.
30. Recycle. Be aware of my carbon footprint.
31. See the Big Picture. Try not to get lost in the details (and vice versa).
32. Share simple treats. Practise kindness.
33. Show love. Be a grace-giver.
34. S-l-o-w down—and bath more. Light candles, relax, let go of the day’s burdens. Breathe deeply. (“Inspiration. Expiration.”)
35. Study. Teach. Grow. Be diligent as a teacher; pursue excellence.
36. Walk in the snow/rain/sunshine. Deliberately. Merrily.
37. Walk through the neighbourhood for fun, not to get somewhere. Greet locals with a smile.
38. Wander through the woods; smell the earthy scent of nature.
39. Whistle, hum and sing more (in private and to my spouse, who really does like the sound of my voice).
40. Write more.

'Twas the week after Christmas ...

2008-12-29T12:13:00.015-07:00

... and since my very long Christmas Eve poem has been shared with too many Readers already, I’ll stick to prose for this letter. Many of you are familiar with my NLSC ramblings each week. The reason I’ve been writing this particular “column” for several years (and have now begun this blog) is simply to share our journey in a new land, at least according to my blog profile:

“NLSC is a Canadian immigrant’s journal. We’ve been living in Alberta for ten years now, and this rugged landscape has become our home. These oft’ quotidian blog entries describe our journey through the days ... our random thoughts, our lofty dreams, our faltering steps, our bright hopes. Please join us for a brief sojourn or an entire season.”

I plan on sending a handwritten version of this entry to several Readers in the coming days, primarily with the purpose of sharing some post-Christmas cheer (as much with myself as with others). No doubt it happens to the international community of consumers too and not only to N. Americans, but many shoppers seem to lose their sanity as December 25 approaches; this year the pressure to spend money—buy more—and get it all done by Christmas Day—started to annoy me more than usual. So I jumped into action. And did absolutely nothing.

Not a cookie did I bake, not a card did I send, not a gift did I buy (other than second-hand books for the children of our Christmas Day hosts, and “time” vouchers for the adults, e.g. a meal to be redeemed any time during the New Year). And suddenly I realised the pressure was off!

Lest you begin calling me Scrooge, let me hasten to add that I particularly enjoy writing in Christmas cards, and I even endure baking once a year (undomestic goddess that I am). And I appreciate finding just the right gift for just the right person—who doesn’t? But this year Christmas came and went with no fanfare at the Phillipses.

Each year end I love writing in and mailing out letters and/or cards not because of the date, but because of the overall celebration of the sacred season, and the chance it affords to reach out (beyond our comfort zones, for some) and tell those who share our emotional, intellectual and spiritual space how we feel about them. More on that in the New Year. First, a few resolutions ...

In memory of Gabrien Rempel: Dec 24, 2007 to Jan 25, 2008

2008-12-26T19:56:00.026-07:00

(Written late on December 24)

Merry Christmas, one and all!

Robin and I returned home just before 6 p.m. after spending a few hours in Calgary at the Subaru dealership (our blue Forester has been out of service for several days; the problem has now been solved); we then drove home to attend a local Christmas Eve service (simply beautiful message by my academic dean, Steve Booth, and a magnificent rendition of one of my very favourite Christmas songs: "Mary, did you know?" sung by my gifted colleague, Kathy Seidler); then the Brandts dropped me off at our darling Rempel neighbours' home where R and I spent the remainder of the evening.

A full and memorable Christmas Eve indeed!

We laughed and cried as we remembered little Gabrien David's premature birth a year ago; I spent the night with his sister and brother when his mommy went into labour last December, and he was born a few hours later weighing just over 1 kg. I vividly remember his daddy returning home in the wee hours of the morning to tell me a son had been born to them; his due date was only in March. We prayed and cried on the steps, both acknowledging the possibility that their sweet little boy might not live long. But we hoped and we loved, and he lived. For a whole month.

What a blessing his short life was to all who knew him, however briefly. So on what would have been baby Gabrien's first birthday today, our hearts recall moments of joy and of sorrow, good memories and bittersweet ones.

After finally tearing ourselves away from our second "home" in the neighbourhood half an hour before midnight, R and I walked around the corner in the snow and received a phone message from a lefthanded kindred who'd―wait 'til you hear this!―baked us (from scratch) a fresh apple pie! I am impressed. {Thank you, PJ, beyond words, both for the thought and the late-night delivery.}

So as I type these pre-sleep paragraphs, surely goodness and mercy are following me all the minutes of this New Day! May goodness and mercy follow you all the days of this New Year. Please send news our way as time permits. We love staying in touch.

P.S. We'll be spending Christmas Day with our extended Little/Mung Canadian family (this year in Airdrie). Thank you to all who sent mail (cyber and snail), and left messages on our answering machine this week. We haven't been home much of late for various reasons, some of which I'll happily write about Next Year. Our office will be closed between now and then. Watch this space. Soon I'll post a newsy NLSC entry in lieu of a pre-Christmas letter (hope you were able to digest last week's poem). And now, to all a good night!

'Twas the night before Christmas

2008-12-22T15:54:00.042-07:00

(Written December 22)

Please accept my small offering of Christmas cheer from Glenbrook Bay―with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore (or Henry Livingston?)―and give thanks that I’m inspired to do this only annually; there really is more where this came from, alas:

’Twas the night before Christmas & all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, ’cept EM & her mouse
Not a stocking was hung, awaiting more stuff
Since both R and EM had possessions enough

The hippos were nestled, all snug in their beds
While visions of river grass danced in their heads
R in his skippies, all curled up in bed
Was clamouring for Milo & cookies instead

When off in the office arose such a clatter
’Tis surprising R’s teeth did not start to chatter
At once he came running, finding paper in flight
And E, trying her best to be still in the night

Peacefully the Alberta moon shone on the ground
And not a sole print in the snow could be found
When what did R’s wondering eyes behold
But a Christmas poem finally finished in bold!

More words than a dictionary’s blinked forth from the screen
(R was just thankful most of ’em were clean)
Highlights were abundant―a mere three were revealed
(Stay tuned for New Year’s news, nothing further concealed)

(i) Chantal & Wal’s wedding―the highlight of the year
And the chance to spend time with so many held dear
(ii) R’s 40th birthday, SKYDIVING, in BC with good friends
After teaching & taxes―life’s usual trends

(iii) Off to Memphis in July―what were we thinking, eh?
To spend time with our new kid before she flew away ...
Our “adopted” daughter, in her musical way
Brings more joy to our lives than we’re able to say

So far this letter’s been about others, you see,
But let us not forget to acknowledge the three:
Three kings (more or less) from afar bearing gifts,
To worship a new King―at the thought my heart lifts!

And more than three shepherds, appeared to by an angel,
Announced the birth of the Babe in a manger
This new Peace-Prince, our Lord & Messiah, behold,
’Tis His story that on each Christmas Eve should be told

To leave Jesus out of Christmas would be absurd
(For this you’ll just have to take my word)
He is the reason we celebrate life in its glory
And the Author of every epic-sized story

He gave us His Word, He completed His quest,
He offers salvation with one main request:
That we believe in His name as Saviour of man
And follow Him with hearts open to His plan

He reminds mankind at each new Christmas season
That His love is divine & given for a reason:
“Here I am, at the door,” I imagine His voice,
“Open up, come to Me, enter in ... & rejoice!”

So on this silent night I encourage you all:
Take the time to respond to your Creator’s call ...
And now, friends and family, may your New Year be bright;
Merry Christmas, God bless you, and to all a good night!

Original Greccio

2008-12-22T14:33:00.002-07:00

In my last post I said I'd do a bit of research; there's much info on St. Francis and on the Greccio Christmas tradition. This virtual venue's worth a visit:

http://www.initaly.com/regions/xmas/greccio.htm

Here's an excerpt from the site:

"So it was that on December 24, 1223, in the very epicenter of Italy, a group of barefoot monks led a merrily singing throng of local residents up the slopes of Mount Lacerone to Greccio, a simple monastery that was little more than a few interconnecting caves. In one of these, a layer of straw had been spread on the stone and beaten earth floor and a primitive crib had been placed in a corner. Around it were a donkey, an ox and a dozen peasants Francis had 'borrowed' from the feudal lord. All night long, a procession of villagers braved cold and snow to see the unique tableau, their torches illuminating the night. The grotto was far too tiny to accommodate everyone, so they shivered outside in the woods.

The ritual has been celebrated ever since, in Greccio and around the world. The grotto has remained virtually unchanged, with the exception of a nativity scene fresco painted on the wall by a follower of Giotto about a hundred years after Francis died in 1226. If you are planning to spend the Christmas season in Rome, you might consider driving the 60 or so miles to Greccio to witness the world's first Christmas Eve procession. It's a simple ceremony, really, but it's so vivid and moving that you will immediately understand why the shy, unworldly monk who created it was a 13th-century superstar who could mobilize entire villages at the drop of a hat."

Greccio Christmas at Mount St. Francis

2008-12-16T22:32:00.000-07:00

Tonight I joined many locals and a few intrepid travellers in celebrating a Greccio Christmas at Mount St. Francis Retreat Centre just outside Cochrane. (I'll do some research on the origins of this event for my next entry, since I cannot remember everything Brother Kevin shared.) For now, suffice it to say I was powerfully moved by the simplicity of this live Nativity, the singing of several favourite carols, and the joy of jubilant children playing in the snow while their sane parents visited indoors.

Rob and Amber Low represented Holy Joe and Mary, and little Brayden was a perfectly happy Baby Jesus (despite being outdoors in temps well below freezing). Two neighbouring donkeys and a horse represented themselves, and hot chocolate and homemade cookies were served by a friendly lady in a cheery Santa hat.

It was wonderful to see some old friends and a couple of King's Fold folk (KF is another retreat centre about 40 kms outside Cochrane, in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains; I go there as often as I can, but since Mt. St. Francis is only 5 kms from home, I spend time here about once a month now. The food and fellowship is satisfying for body and soul; the peace is palpable and the setting divine. Come and see! http://www.mountstfrancis.ca/).

Our friendly local Cochrane Eagle columnist and his wife were present, too. {Thanks for the ride up the hill, PJ, and the ride back down, WH.} I truly am blessed by cosy Cochrane's gift of a caring community, where not even the minus twenties keep us homebound for too long.

More on the weekend: I merely wanted to wish everyone a simple and sacred Christmas season.

John Milton’s 400th birthday

2008-12-11T00:20:00.002-07:00

John Milton’s 400th Birthday December 9, 2008 By: John Piper

Today is the 400th anniversary of the birth of one of the greatest English poets, John Milton (December 9, 1608–November 8, 1674). His greatest work, the epic poem Paradise Lost, was dictated between 1658 and 1664. He had become totally blind by 1654. It begins with this prayer (to the Holy Spirit?), and covers the sweep of history from Adam to Christ:

Of Man’s First Disobedience, and the Fruit
Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal taste
Brought Death into the World, and all our woe
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat,
Sing Heav’nly Muse ...

But in spite of the magnificent scope of the epic, my favorite of all Milton’s writings is the sonnet, On His Blindness. I love it all the more the older I get. You will see why.

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg’d with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”

Pause and give thanks to God for his gifts to the world like John Milton and his verse. Sometimes the blind see far better than the ever-busy seers.

Mosaic of a Master

2008-12-06T23:59:00.001-07:00

For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on His shoulders.
And He will be called Wonderful Counsellor,
Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace
(Isaiah 9:6 NIV).

More has been said, sung and written about Him than about anyone else throughout history. For twenty centuries, authors have failed to find the real person in their fiction; news documentaries and magazine writers have created Him in their image. The Book in which His story appears is read by more people, quoted by more authors and translated into more languages than any other book. His words are set to music; artists are inspired to sketch scenes from His life; endless words of wisdom are gleaned from His teachings.

Who is this prophet, priest and king—Jesus, the anointed Messiah, the Christ? As a baby, He had wise men following a star to fall at His feet in worship. As a boy, He astounded theologians with His knowledge and wisdom. As a man, He calmed a storm with a mere word, multiplied food for thousands, and turned water into wine. When He taught, people said, “We’ve never heard anyone speak like this before.”

Today we are invited to search the Scriptures, for they speak of Him. Although many wish to divest the Bible of its miracles, its Author is a miracle worker. As a healer, He is supernaturally able to control nature, cure disease, banish evil and bind up the broken-hearted. He healed a leper, a paralytic, a woman with a fever, a nobleman’s son with a critical illness, a man with a withered hand and a woman with severe bleeding. He raised the widow’s son, Jairus’s daughter, and Lazarus from the dead. His desire to redeem is coupled with His power to restore.

All the words beginning with “omni” used to describe the nature of God also apply to Jesus. God is omniscient, all-knowing. “Now we can see that You know all things,” affirms John. God is also omnipresent. “Surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” God is omnipotent, all-powerful. “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” God is eternal. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Finally, God is unchangeable. “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” If we consider the Bible inspired by His own Spirit, we shall find the fulfilment of hundreds of prophecies.

The Old Testament paints a portrait of God by using such titles and descriptions as alpha and omega, saviour, king, judge, light, rock, redeemer, shepherd, creator, the One who gives life, forgives sin and speaks with divine authority: the Lord. In the New Testament each of these titles applies to Jesus. “When you look at the sketch of God from the Old Testament, you will see a likeness of Me” (Lee Strobel, The Case for Christ).

And then there were the claims He made about Himself. John, the beloved apostle, records His Master’s words: “Before Abraham was born, I AM.” We hear a faint echo in the psalmist’s words, “Before the mountains were born or You brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting, You are God.”

In the Old Testament, YAHWEH tells Moses, “I AM WHO I AM.” God delivered His people from the bondage of Egypt; He is their ever-present help in times of trouble. Almost 7,000 times in the Bible when God is identified, He represents Himself as a rescuer: eternal, present, and willing to save His people.

So by the time the Son of God entered the arena, the Jews knew who God was. When Jesus said, “All that you know about God is true about Me,” they were outraged. For the blasphemy of equating Himself with the eternal God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, “they picked up stones to stone him.”

And the parallels continue between the life-giving shepherd God and the Messiah: “I am the bread of life,” Jesus says. “I am the light of the world.” “I am the door of the sheep.” “I am the good shepherd.” “I am the resurrection and the life.” “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” “I am the true vine.” “These things are written,” John tells us, “that you may believe that Jesus is Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in His name.” It is essential that we consider the claims He made; eternity is at stake. What He says leaves His hearers in no doubt: I AM—I am God. His claim to be God is either the illusion of a madman, the deception of a clever liar, or the truth; no other options exist. So who is this man—liar, lunatic or lord?

In Mere Christianity C.S. Lewis says, “I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: ‘I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept His claim to be God.’ That is the one thing we must not say. A man who said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher…. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.”

In the words of Ravi Zacharias, “Jesus didn’t come into this world to make bad people good; He came to make dead people live.” He is the source of life: “For the LORD is your life.” When asked who Jesus was, Simon Peter replied, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” The choice we make about Jesus Christ is the only choice that matters for eternal life. Today the Master asks each of us, “But who do you say that I am?”

Why I write

2008-12-06T14:53:00.004-07:00

Today I am thankful for friends who have offered ongoing encouragement during my often sporadic journey with words. Currently I am writing prolifically, having received some sort of new lease on life – or release – in the past little while, but at times my pen is motionless for months. I try and send at least one thank you letter per week, and the following words were penned to my island girl friend (currently on vacation) whose presence across the Pacific Ocean inspired me to write:

Even though you may read these words weeks from now, I want to gather my wandering thoughts into a safe place: a place where they are corralled and captured and where they are more or less permanent, despite the vagaries of cyber-mail. Telling a trusted (and trustworthy) friend something important may also help clarify these thoughts.

So here we are then: I am a writer. Not, “I want to be a writer when I grow up” (although I do), but I am. A writer. Today. Writers write. I write.

I have the following (sometimes dubious) talents with which to work, and on occasion I may even use a few God-given gifts:

I love words. (No doubt this has come to your attention in the past ten years.) I am fascinated by the way sounds are strung together to craft word-pearl sentences. Or even jewelled fragments.

I appreciate the ability to pay attention. Almost every day I hear the sweet sounds of nature, of animals, of people and of music. I want to describe what I hear, what I see, what I feel. I want others to see the world through my eyes (is that narcissistic?) and to experience the earth’s (super)natural beauty deep in the core of their souls.

I want readers to know the joy, the radiance, the delight in living that I know (and as I write these words, I am well aware that not all created beings know the Creator’s intrinsic joie de vivre). Life is achingly beautiful, even when it appears not to be. I want to attempt to bring back a little of that lost joy, innocence, wonder. (This is the primary reason I write stories for children of all ages.) Life is a gift; I want readers to unwrap it.

My aim is that my words may point upwards; that my readers may lift their thoughts – their sighs, their questions, their longings, their pain, their praise – heavenward. I long to write words that lead others to wholeness, shalom. To contentment in Christ. To inner peace. Truth. Love.

And I believe in the free will to use the gift of creativity (given to each of God’s image-bearers) to glorify the Creator. “Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever” (Westminster Shorter Catechism, Q. 1, 1648). My fervent desire is to point others to His fingerprints in the world around us.

How to do all this, my friend? Only God knows. May He help us all.

Wrapped in a quilt of words

2008-12-06T00:02:00.001-07:00

Tonight at our seminary Christmas supper, a student and I were talking about something he shared yesterday in our last English class of the semester. He pictured a quilt wrapped around me, woven together from words.

Today I thought about that image and realised that I didn't necessarily see it wrapped only around me, but around others: folk who needed words of encouragement to cheer them, words of comfort to warm them, words of truth to bring healing, and words of hope to lift their spirits.

I appreciated RE's vision of his teacher wrapped in words, and I hope to drape my cosy quilt around blog Readers (and my regular NLSC crowd) in the posts to follow. Greetings to y'all, and to all a good night.