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 ...
22 February 2009
28 January 2009
Good remembering
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.
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.
25 January 2009
Pre-birthday weekend
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 ...
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 ...
29 December 2008
New Year’s resolutions
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.
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 ...
... 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 ...
“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 ...
26 December 2008
In memory of Gabrien Rempel: Dec 24, 2007 to Jan 25, 2008
(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.
EP
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!
22 December 2008
'Twas the night before Christmas
(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!
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!
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