In A Field

I've never been much of a risk taker.  I colour inside the lines.  Wear sensible shoes.  Venture carefully through green lights.  I'm wary of best before dates.  A rule keeper. But when it comes to love, well, that's a completely different matter.  This only occurred to me recently as I was driving away from a familiar place.  I was crying because my heart was broken.  That's really what it came down to.  I took a risk.  I opened my heart to Him and His people and they walked in and made themselves at home.   Loving is so many things, both good and bad.  Hellos and good-byes, waiting and watching, stopping and starting, hurt and hope, pain and joy.  All mingled together in a messy jumble of tremendous emotions.  But, do you know what really occurred to me?  Thankfulness.  Thankful that I have the capacity to love...

We are saying good-bye. Packing up our little family. Putting familiar things into cardboard boxes. Sealing them shut with nasty packing tape. Dreading the thought of tearing through that plastic frustration to get our stuff out again. Our life is a bit upside down. The house looks like it's been ransacked by a clumsy burglar who was uncertain of what he should take and what he should leave. Odd combinations of things sit in a pile waiting to be put in a proper place. Normal household chores have been put on hold while we wade through the disjointed contents of our homey house. This saying good bye is somewhat easy in the grand scheme of things. We have control over our going. We get to choose where we'll live, what schools our children will attend, what side of town we'll live on. We can even decide what furniture gets to come with us and what item will be written up in a hastily posted ad on kijiji. We get to leave as a family. Our physical home displaced, if only ...

Twelve years ago we piled our belongings into our two door Ford Escort and a cube truck.  The two of us, with the promise of a third in 9 months.  We didn't know then what we were coming to, how we'd grow and change in our new home.  We were excited to move closer to family, to familiar territory, to new faces and new ministry.  I remember plainly how at home we felt the moment we set foot into our church.  From the first interview we knew we had "come home".  They welcomed us as though we had always been a part of their family.  We quickly settled in.  Warmed by this wonderful group of folks who were as excited for us to be here as we were to be with them.  I remember one of them commenting during a gathering that first summer we moved here- "It's like you've always been here".  A compliment.  An encouraging word for a young new pastor and his wife.  We were tickled. B...

I awake in a bit of a fog, only slightly aware of the telephone ringing.  We got in late last night.  Long past our bedtime.  I can hear my father in the kitchen, his muffled conversation floating upstairs to my room.  It's just before 8.  We've slept in.  I'll have to rush to get ready for school this morning.  My father slowly climbs the stairs and I turn to see him enter my bedroom.  He is tired and carries a strange expression on his face.  He reaches my bedside and takes a seat.  He isn't looking at me, but out my bedroom window to the hillside and winding road.  When he faces me again tears have formed in his eyes.  He covers my hand with his and tells me my mother is gone.  His words get lost in a sudden release of grief.  I turn my head into my pillow, tears flowing.  I'm not completely certain of what he's said, I'm hoping I've misunderstood, but know...

Pen on the page.  Spelling out details of a life in words.  Pain, endurance, joy and faith mingled together to form life from clay.  I am alive when I write.  You have compelled me to express that which I cannot contain.  Words spring to life.  Lining up in verse and prose.  Molding into something indentifiable and good. My hand cannot keep up to the thoughts popping into my mind.  I scurry to write, afraid I will be too late in getting them pinpointed in black and white. I've written a thousand novels and works of literature.  Tales of secrets I'd rather not share.  Broken promises and regrets.  I tend not to linger here, afraid to give too much time to those things I have let fall behind.  But I know it's only because of these things that I can truly see the value of the Good, the Blessing and the Hope. ~*~ As long as I can remember I have journalled.  When I was in grade 7 I kept a detailed one of ...

to be known and knowing. vulnerable, and afraid. i am my story and so much more. a sudden need to be heard, to be loved. to be accepted. unmasked.  

So don't you see that we don't owe this old do-it-yourself life one red cent. There's nothing in it for us, nothing at all. The best thing to do is give it a decent burial and get on with your new life . God's Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go! Romans 8:12-14 The Message I Am... God’s beloved child (Jn 1:12:   Eph 1:5) Christ’s dear friend (Jn 15:15) Declared righteous, holy and blameless (Rom. 5:1; Eph 1:4) Free from condemnation (Rom 8:1; Col 2:14-16) United with Christ, “one spirit” with Christ   (I Cor 6:17; Eph 5:31) A member of Christ’s body (I Cor 6:15/ 12:27) The Temple of God (I Cor 6:19)1 Filled with the “fullness of God” (Eph 3:19) Blessed with every spiritual blessing (Eph 1:3) Bought with an infinite price and forgiven (I Cor 6: 20; Eph 1:7; Col 1:14) Bathed with wisdom and understanding (Eph 1:8) The recipient of an eternal, infinitely rich, inheritance (Eph 1:11, 1...