oh my goodness. . .

I cannot believe that it has been more than 2 months since I last posted... what have I been thinking?!?! or as my dear husband might say to that, "maybe you haven't been?!"

In a nutshell... we've survived minor crises... spent much time traveling back & forth between my folks' and home...

We moved my folks from the acreage into a home in town. It's a strange thing - the house holds memories for me that I have worked to forget. I have been hoping and praying that as it becomes my folks' home I can visit them without always remembering the other. As I think back over the last weeks, I think it's slowly happening - for which I am deeply grateful.

Mid-September we attended a pre-admission clinic... it was just the next step as we moved towards the long awaited surgery for Florian. We anticipated a call within a few weeks indicating that his surgery had been scheduled, but many weeks passed and no such call.

That changed yesterday. The phone rang. Florian looked at the call display and said, "oh oh. This is it." He was right. They informed him that he is scheduled for surgery on Tuesday afternoon - just 4 days from now.

Since then we have switched into high gear: re-scheduling other appointments; letting each of our kids know and answering their anxious questions; a flurry of emails as Florian contacted his work associates. Today the activity continued as we sorted through most of the remaining "stuff" in the garage. Don't get me wrong - we've been working at this all fall, but with the surgery just around the corner, we needed to pick up the pace a little.

Now what? Well, there's still a few things to take care of on Monday but we've done most of what we can do. Now we turn our attention to those things that are really important - the state of our emotions as we face this next step.

How are we really doing with this? Florian is calm. My head says "God is in total control and knows the outcome". My heart ... not so much. There's a long 12" disconnect for me between what my head is saying and what my heart is feeling...

I feel certain that I will come to the place where I am able to believe with my heart also... but for now, I'm not quite there. I know that God is able. I know that God is faithful. I know... I know... I know... yet the battle is raging as I wrestle...

Thanks, dear brother, for your wonderful words of encouragement from Psalm 20. It is what will carry me/us through this week:

In times of trouble, may the LORD answer your cry.

May the name of the God of Jacob keep you safe from all harm.

May he send you help from his sanctuary and strengthen you from Jerusalem.

May he remember all your gifts and look favorably on your burnt offerings.

May he grant your heart's desires and make all your plans succeed.

May we shout for joy when we hear of your victory and raise a victory banner in the name of our God.

May the LORD answer all your prayers.

a parent . . . a child . . .

It's hard to be the parent and watch your kids struggle with all that makes life what it is: decisions for today - decisions that will affect tomorrow - decisions that have consequences (known & unknown) - and to learn what it means to be content. That one is especially hard.

and to learn to trust. God. to place in His Hands their future. A future that has so much opportunity. A future that they can't see. A future that has so much potential. A future that offers no guarantees.

Yet. It's also hard to be the child. To watch the parent age. weak. frail. just shells of who they once were.

It's been an interesting last few months.

We have celebrated and rejoiced greatly as we welcomed a dear young woman into our family. What a great celebration of God's love and of the love of two young adults. A celebration of family. A celebration of blessing. Great memories to cherish and to treasure in a heart that is filled to the brim and overflowing...

At the same time, we've come to a crossroads. The home place is sold. The outbuildings are empty - hollow and mere skeletons of what they once were - of what they once held. Memories flood through my mind as I wander the yard, remembering.

Here we played kick-the-can; we scaled that building; we sat on this rooftop; we drove the scooter here; the lake.... a terrifying and fearful place about which we warned our children - don't try crossing it in winter - the ice is not stable. Don't get too close to the bank - it's steep and the water is deep.

Oh. And these favourite spots where we hid eggs & treats at Easter.

The lilac bush... "Remember when...... ?"

My feet kick the gravel - no longer do I need to worry about whether I'm leaving a trail of scuffling feet. It won't be long now before I'll not drive onto the yard, looking to park my car under the shade of the trees.

My eyes water. My throat tightens. This has been my home. What will it be like to drive to see my folks - but not stop to turn in at the 1st driveway? but to drive on by. Past the 2nd driveway. Into town. To the house that they have now purchased.

I don't like the home they've bought. It's a house that I'm familiar with - a house that holds memories that I'd rather leave behind. Maybe in time those memories will fade. Maybe in time it will become my parent's home. Maybe in time. . .

I know it's been a long stretch...

since my last entry.

In the same way that rays of sunshine sometimes break through to bring warmth and cheer before once again being hidden by cloud cover, so too the song-less nights have broken and we have experienced short periods of joy as our souls have broken out in a few notes of song.

It's not a sad time but definitely a time of quiet surrender and renewed prayer during the sleepless nights.

For now, this is the journey that is ours. I know we do not walk it alone - and for that, I am so very grateful.

Until next time, we press onward...

how can I sing. . .

when there is no song? Like the Israelites when they were taken captive, sitting beside the rivers of Babylon. They had hung their harps on the branches of the poplar trees and there they sat. How could they sing? (Ps 137:1-4)

The other day my daughter talked to me of feeling the same way. As one of the oldest in the youth group she feels a need to set an example - but she too feels caught in her "dark night of the soul".

I had no answers to give for I too am experiencing my own "dark night". What can I possibly say to her that will reflect authenticity? My inability to give her any guidance hung like a heavy cloud over my already darkened soul.

A few days later I picked up my Bible Study again (Beth Moore's ,Stepping Up: a journey through the Psalms of Ascent). I am ashamed to admit that a 6 week study has taken me nearly 6 months to complete; yet, I marvel at its timeliness for as I picked it up, these words spoke to me:

"Night services were often held in the temple courts in association with the feasts.... Remember how we pictured the lamplights of those small shelters pitched as far as eye could see on the hills surrounding Jerusalem? We may know about the nights o the feasts, but what about the nights of the soul?

By all means, we want to "cry out under" our "load of oppression" and "plead for relief from arm of the powerful" (NIV), but we also want to seek our God and Maker and ask Him to give us songs in our night.

As any song writer of our time and he or she will tell you that clearest and deepest words God grants the soul are often those that come in a dark season of life. One of the dearest treasures in your darkness will be the God-song He will give you if you'll receive it. To stand in the presence of the Lord when you'd rather to go to bed and never get up, and to praise Him in the night when taunting voices tell you to curse Him - these things are nothing less than a battle cry of victory. ...

Don't wait! Praise God the second you don't feel like it The second you feel defeated "Now!" Your tempter tempts you to praise God the least when you need to praise the most. A true psalmist praises his way to victory, knowing it will come because the praise itself renders the first blow to his enemy's brow. God's faithfulness then calls for man's gratefulness. Inherent in the call to 'bless Yahweh' is the cry to thank Him. In Karl Barth's words, "Charis always demands the answer eucharitia. Grace and gratitude belong together like heaven and earth. Grace evokes gratitude like the voice an echo. Gratitude follows grace as thunder follows lightning."* **

I came to understand three things:

1. The song must be sung. It may not be "my" song, but we do what we have come to do - and that is to praise Him
2. In time, I believe that I (and my daughter) will once again have a song to sing that is mine - that is ours
3. Until that time, there still is a song to be sung. God is faithful. He is unchanging. He is to be praised. It may not be the "song of my soul", but for now we do what we have come to do - and that is to praise Him.

How can I sing? no... I need to change my focus... In consideration of the One to whom we sing, the question that I must ask becomes, "How can I not sing?"



Photo courtesy of John Hutmacher & USDA Forest Service
* Karl Barth. Church Dogmatics (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1961), 4.
** Beth Moore. Stepping Up (Nashville: Lifeway Press, 2007), 165-166.

as we anticipate April. . .

I wrote a short reflection for our church newsletter that will be ready for distribution on Sunday.

April showers bring May flowers…. I’m sure we’ll hear this little rhyme many times this month as we eagerly anticipate the warmth and colourful display of spring.

As I thought a little bit more about this, I realized there could be some deeper truths to explore.

Sequence – God’s plan is never our plan. April and showers must come first.

Showers – sometimes they come into our lives as torrents of rain – our umbrella of hope threatens to turn inside out as the winds blow with gale-like ferocity. We tighten our grip and, with tenacious determination, we draw that umbrella a little closer in a desperate effort to keep the rain from drenching us. At other times, the rain is a gentle mist – not enough to really require an umbrella and we step out with anticipation. We turn our faces towards the cool drops and enjoy the cooing mist as the tiny droplets splash across our face.

The earth is dry from its winter season of hibernation. It eagerly soaks up these April showers, regardless of whether they’ve come in torrential downpours or gentle droplets of moisture. They are the life-blood of the May flowers that are to come – of which we wait with eager anticipation.

Can you see a deeper truth here? Sometimes the rains of adversity can threaten to overwhelm us – to turn our umbrella of faith inside out and render it useless, except to catch the rain.

Other times, the rains come as a gentle shower and we relish in the outpouring of God’s grace and tenderness as we welcome the refreshing and renewing showers. Like young children, we frolic in the rain and relish the feeling of carefree abandonment as we find the biggest puddles in which to jump and splash.

Either way, April showers result in beautifully fragrant blossoms in May – flowers of a faith whose roots are stronger and deeper – flowers of faith that now bless others with their fragrance – blossoms that bloom with brilliance as we display God’s incredible faithfulness to us.

May the April showers bring about God’s flowers in May.

today is the first day of spring

and I noticed that my tulips in the courtyard are up! As the rest of the yard is still sporting remnants of snow, I didn't even think to check this warm corner. At this rate, I'll need to be watering them soon!!

and yet. As wonderful as it is to see these signs of spring, it means for us that we continue to march closer each day to yet another family 'speed bump'.

This next week Florian is scheduled for an angiogram. While we're not concerned about the test at all, it represents for us that we're one step closer to the day that he will undergo heart surgery. We haven't been notified of a scheduled date, but they have suggested that it will be soon... as early as spring.

Well, guess what? Today is the first day of spring which means that it could be any time within the next short while.

Where does that leave us today? really, in no different a space than yesterday or the day before yesterday... or tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.... We continue to place ourselves in God's Hands. He continues to shape... to mold... to speak words of assurance... and in turn, we continue to cling to Him knowing that He has us in His precious grip!

what is "normal". . .

besides (as my husband used to love to say) a setting on the dryer? But since December, he's declared that the word "normal" no longer exists in our family lexicon.

Somehow our family will return to a degree of normalcy but I don't know what that will look like or when it will happen.

My husband's mother passed away two weeks ago - just about a week after my last blog entry. My husband and his brother were called to the hospital just after lunch as she was "unstable". By late afternoon she was gone.

The following week was a flurry of activity... and that flurry won't be over any time soon as we now turn our attention to emptying her apartment and getting it ready for new tenants for month-end.

I realized today that physically I've turned on "auto-pilot", but emotionally I feel numb. I don't have answers that the others want; I don't know when our family will feel any amount "normal" again; I don't know how to be "strong" anymore and I don't know if I want to be either; I don't know how to "fix" our family as it seems that everyone has pulled away into their own world of survival. . .

All of these could work together towards helping us feel somewhat "normal" again... but somehow it won't ever be the same as it once was... and maybe that's OK...

My brother was here early January and he talked about "life defining moments" and how they, as a family, experienced some of those. I understand that the events from these last months definitely have the makings of being one of those "defining moments" for us. The question is, then, What will this "defining moment" look like? How do I/we want to proceed from here? What kind of lasting impact will these events have on our family? When we look back, will we see it as something that pulled us apart? or did it make our family bond stronger?

It somewhat feels like a refining process. If that is what it is, then I want us to come through the fire having a little more of the impurities burned away - reflecting a little more clearly the image of the One who is doing this refining in us. It's not easy. It hurts. It seems to take a long time and we don't necessarily see any immediate results. Yet. In the end, when we look back, I hope we can say it was worth it.