Whatever He Says

It was just over a week ago that I looked at the massive amount of emails piled up in my in-box at work and decided that I had to do something about them.  Over the next several days I spent time sorting; responding;  filing and deleting-- until finally--pristine, dazzling white space stared back at me from my computer screen. Ever since that splendid moment of triumph, I have waged a daily battle to hang on to it. Partly because it has been such a busy summer at work, I found that I had no energy to write. I was even beginning to wonder if my well of inspiration had dried up--was my season to write, over? It felt to me; not only about writing, but about a few other things too; as though God had pressed the "pause" button.  Just like my father, who in gentlemanly fashion always walked on the side closest to the traffic when we were out together, and when were about to cross the street, put his arm across my chest like the barrier at a railroad crossing, holding me...

I booked this day off months ago and suddenly it was here, a day off which I had put on my calendar for today. I had plans. There are so many things when you work full time, that just don't fit into the time left at the end of the day, or squeeze into a Saturday, what with the laundry, shopping and cleaning (like I even really do cleaning as it should be done! :)) I'm not complaining though. I wrote a while back about the routine my mum had, without the help of a dishwasher, washing machine or dryer. And I love my job. No complaints. But gratitude? Oh yes!! For a day at home; "extra!" In a week that has been glorious; unseasonably warm and sunny--like a sudden outbreak of summer; today, Friday, dawned gray and cool and drizzly. It didn't matter! I woke up without a deadline for getting up, but got up because I didn't want to waste a precious minute.  Paul was away, on his way home from a conference in Ottawa, so I relished solitude and listened to the ...

By Belinda  It feels like a mini-retreat of a strange sort: at home; enjoying being here for a day or so; steadily working away at tasks too big for a weekend. Or my weekends at least, which are consumed by grocery shopping, laundry and church and not a lot more that I can manage. That sounds pretty pathetic now that I put it down in writing. But it is the truth, at least when it comes to tasks.  There is relational stuff on weekends that is important to me and which flows around the tasks: a long phone call or two; family dinners; electronic connecting and writing blog posts. Those things are the important stuff of my life.  And I don't think that I am a fast person. I plod, but plod with perseverance! :) All this to say that just a couple of days of extra time to do things such as clean an oven; two fridges, and defrost and clean out a freezer (and I hope to accomplish some other things too)--are a big treat! Deeper peace settles over me with every i...

Exhausted: out of every kind of energy: emotional; spiritual; physical. Downhearted, and down on "me;" I felt useless on many levels. I felt as though I needed to draw a tight curtain around myself, and retreat--and I did. In the room where I most often spend intentional time with God, which has been a guest bedroom since August 12th, I spent an hour with God's Word, and my journal last night. Just stopping, I realised how very tired I felt. I knew that the next thing on my agenda would be bed. By 10.30, beneath the covers, I sank into my pillow with gratitude that a whole night of sleep lay ahead. I slept for a solid 9 hours. Apparently there was a severe thunderstorm last night, but I didn't hear a thing. 36,000 Ontarians woke up without power this morning, but I got a bit of mine back. And I took a morning of vacation time to continue the restoration process. I enjoyed our company of the last month and a half, but during that time, and the run up of preparing...

By Belinda It was Friday; the last day of a busy work week. I got up early after another late night. I tried to insert contact lenses into my tired eyes, but my eyeballs rebelled and repelled. It felt as though there were little men on my eyeballs throwing the lenses back at me, so I took the hint and put on my black rimmed glasses instead. I am usually a compulsive listener: to radio, music or books on CD; but on Friday, as I drove in the gray early morning light to meet my friend and colleague, Irene, at a carpool, I chose not to break the peaceful silence inside my car. The roar of air flowing through the heat vents and the hum of snow tires on pavement were a soothing backdrop to my thoughts. It felt good to bask in silence and allow my mind to rest completely. It was a chilly, blustery morning, complete with a driving drizzle. I joined the other drivers circling the carpool like sharks in search of prey, but when I realized that Irene was not there yet, I tucked my car into a park...

The night gave way to a brand new day, my first morning waking up at home after five days in the hospital. I lay on the couch downstairs, a chamois coloured, feathery light duvet covering me and keeping me cosily warm. I thought of the hospital, and the routine I knew so well by now, imagining the nurse at that moment, going from patient to patient taking blood pressures and temperatures and checking IV levels. I was thankful to be wearing my own favourite nightie and not the blue hospital gown, double layered for modesty, that would get increasingly tangled as I turned during the night. I listened to the pitter-patter of the rain on the skylight, in the large hall outside the room. I had so much to be thankful for. My dependable workhorse of a body has been recovering rapidly this week, but I have found that I have needed to ease it into the day slowly since surgery on Monday morning. So I lay quietly, thinking, and drifting in and out of sleep for quite a while as the rain tap-tapped...

I continue to learn as I work on incorporating new habits into my life. It isn't that I can never extend myself, or make a supreme effort when it is called for. That has been called for this week at work, but when I wrote on Thursday evening about not being asleep at my post anymore, I talked myself out of starting a big task at 10.30 p.m. and instead went to bed. I was rested for the next day. The day was busy but highly productive and then I chilled out with Paul by watching a movie until 8.30. I remembered then that because it was Friday, Meg was writing the blog post for Saturday. That was a wonderful thing to enjoy--a blog Sabbath. I did do a couple of hours of work on some deadline driven tasks. What difference running on a full tank makes. I am so used to running on empty, through sheer grit, will and determination but I have long struggled with a tendency to fall asleep easily at meetings. I am also a master of procrastination before getting on with a big task that is waiti...

I am so used to falling into bed exhausted. I usually wring out the day and catch the last precious drops, whereupon I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. I have spent quite a few of my "early nights" wondering why I went to bed so early; tossing and turning until just before it was time to get up, when I suddenly felt tired. But last night--oh happy night--I went to bed at 11.00 p.m. and only woke up here and there, just long enough to enjoy the delicous thrill of discovering that it was "only" 11.45 or 4 o'clock. I woke up at 4.50, just before my alarm went off, and was able to get up without feeling like I had to stay for the "few minutes" that always turn into half an hour (time moves fast when you're in bed.) I've always felt that Proverbs 26:14 was a little harsh. Does anybody just leap out of bed in the morning? This morning though, I felt rested and it was wonderful. It felt like the right time to get up. I was so tempted t...

Just in case anyone is wondering...I thought I would give an update on the status of my "orderly life." :) Our Christmas tree is still up. That about says it all. Last night at the end of cell group I moved three of our Christmas figures to the foot of the stairs. I laughed because they looked like the Three Wise Men--as if they were definitely going somewhere. I can only hope that this weekend they make it to their final destination, a cupboard upstairs, where they will be neatly stowed away for a few months. Usually our Christmas things vanish before we return to work after New Years Day, but this year, with holding on tight to celebrating Sabbath, and getting sufficient sleep and having a daily Sacred Hour, Christmas seems to have come to stay. I have held on tight to my Sacred Hour. It has really helped to build a new morning ritual around it. In spite of my best efforts I have not done so well in the past few days at getting enough sleep though, and on Sunday, because o...

Incredulous laughter bubbled up within me as I listened to my friend Martha describing her dream of the night before. Her dark eyes shone and her brow furrowed as she tried to explain it. English is not her first language, and she did not know the word for fighting with a sword. "I was wearing the special clothes," she said, "I had the thing on my head and I was using a sword." "Fencing;" I said, "You were fencing and that was the mask over your face. It's so amazing that you were dreaming about fencing." She looked puzzled; smiled, shook her head of dark curls and went on excitedly. "I went all the way until my opponent was on the floor, his sword was across his body and he was totally defeated. It was so easy; just a case of moving forward. There was no effort." She paused then, and took a deep breath, looking at me curiously. I told her that just the night before, I had told a true story in a blog post, about an elderly woman who...

Driving to work this morning was a delight. The day was lovely; a kindness bestowed upon the Back to Work World that made it much easier to venture out into the day and to the office. I passed fields that glistened with a coating of shiny ice that covered the powdery snow and reflected back the faintest delicate pink light, caught from the morning sky. In the evening I drove back from Newmarket, where I had gone after work, and the day hadn't waned in it's efforts to dazzle. The sunset sky was deepest turquoise fading to salmon pink on the horizon. On either side of the road, the silhouetted tree branches brushed the sky softly and I imagined that I was driving through the middle of a giant fur coat. Before work, I read more of Mark's gospel; chapter 2, which contains the account (verses 23-28) of Jesus scandalizing the Pharisees by picking heads of grain on the Sabbath. The final verses say this: Mark 2:27-28 (New International Version) 27 Then he said to them, "The...

The wind blows over Lake Couchiching on this cold, gray, morning; its distant roar the first sound I hear as I wake in my cozy bed at Geneva Park YMCA Retreat and Leadership Training Centre, where I am for two and a half days of training. In the bathroom, from somewhere nearby I hear skin squeaking against bathtub, and bumping as someone steps out; a shower starts to run, then a hairdryer—the sounds of co-workers in adjoining rooms starting their days. It’s a refreshing break to be here; a time to learn and grow as a large team, but as I open up my Daily Light this morning I am drawn to another place and feel a longing for the day when time loses its meaning and there is no ending. Psalm 27:4 One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple. At breakfast I sit with Dennis, Gord, Jon, Janet, Marianne and Carolyn and we soon are engaged in conversation tha...

Yesterday our team of 25 or so northern managers and area managers, gathered in Dwight; in the beautiful Lake of Bays area, not far from Algonquin Provincial Park. We stayed overnight, then had a one day working retreat. It was a weary group that gathered. Getting away isn't easy, but once there, you could see people unwind and relax. Last night there was a camp fire on the shore. I hear there was a guitar and laughter. Some sank gratefully into bed early. I retreated to my room for precious alone time. To some a retreat means people--to me a retreat means...retreat--although I love people too. Before breakfast Terry ran 6 kilometers--she's training for a half marathon. Gloria walked and Susan sat out on the dock watching the mist roll in from the lake. I sat on the little balcony outside the cabin room and listened. I heard Terry return from her run with a tired sigh. A few minutes later, down below, I heard her banging her running shoes together to loosen the mud from their ...

Psalm 23:5 (New King James Version) 5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; My cup runs over. Saturday--I always have big plans for extra things--like cleaning windows, getting rid of that pile of mending by doing it, or sorting out the room that needs tidying--but all I can ever seem to manage is watering the plants, doing the laundry and the shopping. And then I seem to run out of day. Other important things fill up the hours of Saturdays--things like unhurried breakfasts with family, coffees with Brenda, phone calls to England and from Peter. And time with God of course--so I don't feel too badly about my meagre visible results at the end of the day. Added to the mix today was preparing the worship service and I found myself thinking about it as I watered the plants, my last task before sitting down to choose songs for tomorrow. This week our church will celebrate communion--and I decided I would take a CD with a song to play a...

Matthew 11:28 (New International Version) 28"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Her bright eyes looked at me, sparkling with excitement as she spoke. She'd been praying for a specific need. The need had existed for quite some time--it had always been hard to fill it and even young and energetic as she was, she'd been getting worn down by the care of it. So when we met, I couldn't wait to hear her news. She'd only told me over the phone that God had given her a "word" and that she'd stood on it--and the floodgates had opened, bringing answers to her prayer. The word had been Matthew 11:28--the beginning a perfect description of how she was feeling. "Then," she said, "I saw a vision of Christ on the cross, and he said, "I did this, so that you could give me all things."" "And so," she said, "I did--and a week later--here you go!" When the fringes of a miracle brush...