Whatever He Says

  The Flower Merchant has a whimsical and welcoming back entrance. Green posts and an awning lead to a sign that says, "Come in--We're Open." I'd come that day to place a particular order. A grocery store arrangement, no matter how lovely, just wouldn't do. This commission required a caring personal touch. As I left the sunshine, I entered a shadowy hallway leading to the store proper, and a bright young voice with the hint of a northern English accent, called, "Hello! Can I help you?" At this warm invitation, I felt emotions submerged deep in my heart begin to bob to the surface, but I contained them with the grit born of a stoic British upbringing. The flawless beauty of the face of the young woman behind the counter struck me as her blue eyes gazed into the stormy North Sea green of mine. A mane of soft golden reddish hair was swept back from her face, revealing perfect matching golden eyelashes and brows. She was a china doll--Ann of Green G...

I went to the funeral today of someone who mentored those paid to support him in how to make friends and influence people. He taught us even through the boxes of Smarties that were handed out to each person who came to the funeral. They were donated by the manager of the No Frills shop where he and his staff shopped for groceries . He developed a close friendship with Annette and her husband at the store and always came home with candy. Often the staff was left to do the shopping alone, he was too busy connecting. I told the staff he used to shop with that she did a good job getting out of the way and letting the friendship happen. Some might have thought they needed to get him to focus on the grocery shopping. She knew what was most important. From photos on display his handsome face looked out at us, beaming with serenity and contentment. At the front of the church was an array of his stuffed toys and two trophies won between illnesses for a bowling score no one has yet managed t...

It is just over two years since Mum died. I loved her so much that I used to anticipate that inevitable day with anxiety, thinking that I would surely fall apart. But when the time came, I didn't fall apart. I was raw and emotional in the time leading up to her funeral, but I felt so much gratitude for her life that it seemed almost inappropriate to weep for more. It seemed as though one day she was in England, and the next in heaven, and in both she seemed equally close. But I wondered about not weeping for her, as though not doing so dishonoured her somehow, and I felt I needed it for me, too--it just didn't happen. My friend  Adele Simmons  led us in morning worship both mornings this weekend at the writers' conference I attended. These times are special--gathered together with other writers in God's presence. It always feels like a time of re-commissioning and consecration. But I hadn't expected to weep for Mum. Adele spoke about missing someone in our...

By Belinda I feel like a stranger! I have missed being here to chat--to share thoughts and laughter and awe. I've been down with a really bad cold--but woke up thankful this morning for returning energy and a voice that is croaking less with every minute. I will be returning to the story of Mum's stroke, which I was part way through. Thank you for hanging in with me in my circuitous story telling. I so appreciate you being there to listen, and I promise a brief re-cap, to remind you where we were when I start again. But tonight I'm thinking of those who are Home for the holidays; Mum is one of those and I know other blog readers also lost loved ones this year. I'm thinking of them too, knowing that our first Christmas without them we are aware of an empty place at the table; or in our bed; or a phone call we'll miss having to make.  I spoke to Rob on Saturday, just checking in. I know that he must miss her. Oh, he is still noticing the things he doesn't ...

By Belinda Paul's mum with one of her great-grandchildren I haven't finished my "Summer Past" series of posts. I have a feeling that there will be several more installments and I don't want to rush them. This is just a brief moment of diversion. It was the end of the morning service and I made my way to the back of the church to say hello to Paul's mum. After several health issues she has lost a lot of weight since the photo above. She was always petite in height; about 5 ft.(maybe not quite) to my 5 ft. 8 in.; but at 86, she stands tall on the inside, even when gripping the handlebars of her walker. I asked her how she was, and told her that I heard she'd been digging her garden. She laughed and said, yes, she'd planted some bulbs. I told her how she amazes me with what she accomplishes. "I'm determined," she said, with a smile, raised eyebrows and a look in her blue eyes that left no doubt. Paul comes by his focus and dr...

By Belinda When Mum died, four months ago, our pastoral department at work sent out the first of four small books. They arrive at carefully spaced out periods, and are designed to help a person process grief. This is a link to the website where the books can be ordered. . Stephen Ministries--Journeying Through Grief   I will be ordering a set to keep in case someone else needs this wonderful resource;  I am already passing on my own set to a friend who lost her mother just after I lost mine. I've found that writing here about Mum has also been therapeutic, and it's been a place to capture memories and feelings. On July 17 Paul and I will fly to England to spend two weeks with my brother Rob. When I went in March for Mum's funeral, we still had possession of her flat, and I stayed there while helping to dismantle and close up her home, a place that was filled with her special presence. Being part of the process was helpful. Each time I've chatted with Rob since, ...

By Belinda My birthday just over a week ago, made me feel very grateful for the people I love and who love me back. I've noticed as I've grown older that the  quantity of cards gradually goes down over the years; but each one: each phone call; each special yearly ritual observed, is more precious, because of those with whom they are shared. Old friends; shared memories; forgiven wounds; promises to love forever held true to; faith kept; these are things that only increase in value with every year. On my birthday I felt lavishly loved and spoiled from beginning to end, so it took me by surprise, the wave of grief at missing her; the one who has shared every one of my 61 birthdays up to this one, in a way more intimate than anyone else. We were the only two who were actually there on the inaugural birthday after all. It was the day we separated for the first time physically, and I loved to hear her tell how all through the labour she focused on what lay at the end of it...

By Belinda It took me by surprise. I was on Facebook, checking out my nephew John's page to see what was up in his life; laughing at the photo of him in the kitchen chopping carrots and thinking of when I was last with him there for a delicious meal. I scrolled through more photos and suddenly she was there...only she isn't any more... Seeing her  made me catch my breath, like bumping into someone unexpectedly. K nowing that she isn't here...I miss her. Last week when I talked to Rob, he was missing her too. The reality that she is gone is hitting and so is grief. I knew it would in its own time. I'm still so very grateful, for all that she was to us, for God's tender care of her in her dying. But oh, there is an empty seat, an empty flat, and arms that long to hug her one more time.

By Belinda  I have a few quiet moments in the lounge of Guelph Bible Conference Centre. Soon the colleagues who are  here  with me  attending the three day Mediation Training from  Conrad Grebel College ; University of Waterloo , will begin to drift in as the scent of breakfast cooking lures them down, but I have these moments to share with you, dear readers. As I have reconnected with coworkers working throughout the province of Ontario with our agency, over the past two days, sitting beside different people at breaks, breakfasts, lunches and dinners, the topic of Mum's death has surfaced many times. People knew of her death and had been praying at work, and wanted to share their caring and concern as we met here. One by one they tenderly broached the subject and it has been so good to share the many blessings associated with her passing from this world to the next. People's eyes have moistened as many of them recounted their own stories of losing a paren...

By Belinda Today I will attend a memorial gathering to honour a colleague in the field of developmental services:  Manuela Dalla Nora  the executive director of  Vita Community Services Manuela died suddenly on June 21 and it is still hard to believe that she is gone. In the 50 years she lived she was brave enough to challenge the status quo. Her life affected the lives of many others for good. Her life made a difference. What more could any of us ask? In her memory I share one of my favourite songs, by Nicole Nordeman: Legacy.

By Meg “With Each Death Done I am Onward” This line comes from a poem I read many years ago – I cannot find its author. But it’s the thought that counts..for me today, anyway. I am sorting out the Christmas stuff in the basement, left in disarray in the midst of other more urgent jobs, after my daughters put on a Christmas in July party with friends and family before departing for their new lives over 2000 miles west of here. Last Christmas they were in New Zealand, next Christmas we will be with them in their new home. So where’s the dying? They are moving ahead, eagerly following the Lord in Christian community, full of life and vigour and purpose. I couldn’t wish for more. I practically pushed them out of the nest, and do my supporting from a distance, in any way that is possible. I am quite relieved in many ways to have more time and space to “do my thing”, “get on with my life”, and all the other clichéd ways of talking about a new chapter of my life forced upon me. But sti...

By Belinda (leaning into the archives tonight, with a post from November 2008. The woman in the story, Paula, has written her story here herself since then: see The Valley ) Philippians 4:6-7 (New International Version) 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. The plaque on the kitchen wall said, Life Is All About How You Handle Plan B. I smiled at first, thinking how true the words were, but they were also poignant, for the one in whose kitchen I sat, was mourning the death of a much loved husband, who died just a few months ago; a sudden separation and all too soon. Outside a winter storm was gathering strength as the afternoon drew on, but the kitchen was cosy and welcoming, with sunshine yellow walls and white painted cupboards. Interesting nick-nacks stood on window sills...

By Belinda In a string of hot, steamy July days, this one dawned wet. We woke to the sound of rain drumming on skylights, from clouds of roiling gray. The hills were overhung by mist and moisture, the dark skies deepening the gold and green of the fields. Driving in to my office in Bradford, I glance at the sign at Sobey's grocery store. The message this morning isn't about this week's grocery specials, but tells of a community in mourning: "Our Thoughts and Prayers Are With the Collier Family," it reads. An article in the The Barrie Examiner  carries the headline, Fallen Soldier on His Way Home.   "Home" is here; where we live. A place we are grateful to be. A place that Sapper Brian Collier of Bradford, Ont. and 1 Combat Engineer Regiment in Edmonton, won't be coming back to, really. An photograph in the National Post shows a young man in the bloom of youth. It is so hard to make sense of such a tragic loss. I drive on, and close to ...

A few nights ago I wrote a post entitled, Head in the Clouds in which I mentioned my favourite psalm, Psalm 84, which refers to the Valley of Baca, or weeping. Paula, a regular reader and friend wrote, "So often, your blog sparks me to action and I have to write what is 'burbling' inside me. Sort of like indigestion !" Hmmm, Paula, I'm not sure I want to give people indigestion, but I'm grateful that you graciously agreed to let me post the result. By Paula Walker I entered the Valley of Baca ( of Weeping ) on a warm Sunday evening in August, 2008 when my cherished husband of 48 yrs died suddenly at home. He had been, as the Brits say, poorly. On oxygen therapy for at least five years, others might have considered themselves disabled. Not Dale. He still worked at his accounting practice; was our church treasurer and helped me care for our nephew who was born with cerebral palsy. As far as we knew, his lung disease was definitely not 'end stage'....

By Belinda I drive west along the seventh line. On the edge of our little village, what was once farmland has become The Club at Bond Head , a very ritzy golf club. It is evening and an artificial lake reflects the colours of the sunset like a jewel in the dusk. I never tire of this drive; this feast for the eyes between our home and church.This evening the sun vacates the sky in fine style, leaving showy swirls and feathers of cloud tinged in palest pink and peach over fields just emerged from winter. I glance to my right, at a farm nestled deep among the fields at the end of a very long laneway: Inez's farm. I think of her kitchen empty, and piano untouched. On the seat beside me lie a salad and loaves (including the ever abundant Amish Friendship Bread) that I am taking to the church for her funeral lunch tomorrow. When our church first began, many of the people from surrounding farms were its first members. Now the demographics have changed and we have a more diverse ...

Exodus 33:13-14 (New International Version) 13 If you are pleased with me, teach me your ways so I may know you and continue to find favor with you. Remember that this nation is your people." 14 The LORD replied, "My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest." I had spent the morning at my desk, busy. In early afternoon I took a break for lunch, completely unprepared for the fact that I was about to stumble upon treasure...and tears. While munching on a Ryvita crispbread and piece of Jarlsberg cheese, I pulled up Whatever He Says on the internet, and clicked onto a favourite blog, Bene Diction Blogs On , in the blogroll sidebar. Bene announced the death through an aggressive cancer, of Michael Spencer , well known for his blog, Internet Monk: Dispatches from the post evangelical wilderness  and a group blog The Boars Head Tavern  . It was obvious that Bene had great affection and respect for Michael and he included an excerpt from one of his favour...

By Belinda I circled the car pool until I found Bonnie's car, then she got into mine and we set off down the highway for the short journey to Springdale Christian Reformed Church in the Holland Marsh . The day held the promise of spring in the muddy retreat of the snow that has blanketed the land for the long winter. Our hearts too, held a mixture of spring and winter as we went to pay our respects by being present at the funeral for Colleen Mills, sister-in-law to your friend Ellen (Joyful Fox.) We were deliberately early and we found a parking spot at the side of the road, and seats in the church that was already packed with people. On our way in, I spotted Ellen and her daughter, Hannah. I tried to catch her eye, but so full of nervous energy was she as she flitted about--a slim figure in a black dress--that I had to run after her to hug her and let her know we were there. Bonnie and I found seats and listened to the piano music that was the backdrop to the hum of many voices a...

Matthew 5:4 (New American Standard Bible) 4"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. I leave early this morning, for Windsor, to simply "be with" Susan and her family at the funeral of her father. With me I will carry the love of her co-workers and friends who couldn't make the long journey, but who wish they could. I know from experience, how much each token of caring means, whether prayer (I literally felt the prayers of others carry me when my father died), or a card, or the physical presence of the people who come to show their respect and love. Susan is giving the eulogy at the funeral, and I look forward to hearing the thoughts that she will share. When my father died I expected to speak on behalf of the family; I'm the oldest child and usually pretty comfortable speaking publicly. But when the local vicar came to visit and help plan the service, and began to ask questions about dad's qualities, I suddenly felt very fragile and helpless...

Philippians 4:6-7 (New International Version) 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. The plaque on the kitchen wall said, Life Is All About How You Handle Plan B. I smiled at first, thinking how true the words were, but they were also poignant, for the one in whose kitchen I sat, was mourning the death of a much loved husband, who died just a few months ago; a sudden separation and all too soon. Outside a winter storm was gathering strength as the afternoon drew on, but the kitchen was cosy and welcoming, with sunshine yellow walls and white painted cupboards. Interesting nick-nacks stood on window sills and shelves and the air was filled with the aroma of the evening's supper cooking. We sat across the table from one another and talked the minutes and hours away until the late aft...

Dear Friends, Lana-Joy sent an email to some friends and family and when it was passed on to me, I wrote and asked her if I could publish it because there is so much in what she says, that would help others. She said that if so, I could gladly publish it. So here it is: I decided to send out one last email to everyone to share how and what Jonathan and I are doing and let you know where we are going from here. From here on in I will no longer be sending out group emails to everyone unless something unusual happens. Since Jeff passed away Jonathan and my lives have changed forever. It is hard to wrap my head around what has happened and equally hard to absorb it all. When asked, "How are you?" it is not easy to quickly respond. Some images come to mind in attempting to answer this question. The first image is that of a big heavy bucket of sadness. I received this bucket when Jeff died and many of you have received a bucket of sadness too. The only way to lighten the weight of ...