Two in Two Days!

Two in two days must mean something good...
And it does!

I just got off the phone with Central Alberta Cancer Care Centre.

They let me know that there is no reason for me to come in to see them as they won't be doing chemo.

They met with their team and went over my file.

All follow-up will take place between my surgeon and family practitioner.

That is a huge answer to prayer.

And an anticipated fall of healing and taking some time to enjoy my family differently than I've been able to in the last few weeks, 

and differently than I will be able to in the coming weeks as I let my abdomen heal.

God is good!

He would still be good even if this wasn't the answer to prayer we received.

But I am thankful all the same.

And I am humbled that He has chosen to answer us with so many yeses. 

We also heard from the surgeon this morning following our Monday night stress.

Sutures will stay in a little longer than usual and he will take them out when I see him for follow-up in a couple of weeks. 

In the meantime, no bending. 

Ha.

I will do my best.

Follow-Up to Monday's Appt

It's been quite a week, it seems, but I realize it's only Wednesday.

Monday afternoon we packed up in anticipation of coming home following the appointment with the surgeon - and our visit did not disappoint.

Lab results came back from what the surgeon had taken out.

He confirmed that it is/was stage 2 - essentially meaning that it was fully contained where it was;

Lymph nodes - clear, 

cells on either side of the tumour - clear, 

no other signs of spreading. 

It is amazing news. 

We are so thankful for all of the prayers that have been offered on our behalf. 

And so thankful that God has been merciful.

Thankful for all the medical staff who have helped along the way.

And for the people who have carried and continue to carry all of this with us.

We were told that chemo is not usually done for stage 2 cancer, although because of my age, I may still have some. 

A referral has been sent to an oncologist and we anticipate hearing a final word on that in the weeks ahead.

But for now, a very hopeful and positive outcome.

God has been very gracious.

Staples were removed and we headed back to Rocky Mountain House breathing huge sighs of relief.

It's funny. 

There was relief.

But also a different kind of apprehension. 

I texted a few people that evening to pass on our news, and said with a laughing emoji,

"Moving a little extra cautiously as I'm not as convinced as he is that everything is going to stay shut."

And I was.

Moving cautiously and slowly. 

Just before bed, I was sitting down and leaned forward slightly, when my incision re-opened.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't traumatized a little.

There's a reason this update didn't come sooner. 

Everything that felt so sure, was suddenly unsure and out of my control.

I'm no expert on closing major abdominal wounds. 

We did our best and then visited the ER to get things re-stitched together.

And I've been moving a lot more slowly.

And feeling a lot more anxious.

And where before I was ready to try things and to figure out the right way to move to ensure I could still do as many things as I could without asking for help,

I have become very okay with asking for help and staying in place; lying down as much as possible and giving all those torn cells as much time and space as I can for them to re-heal.

And it's not that I don't know it will heal.

It's not that I don't trust that God is bigger than this set-back.

But when things feel fragile, it takes over a little.

And sometimes I need a push to get back on the Thankful-Train instead of hanging out on Stress-Street.

I'm thankful that we were at home when it happened and not driving down Highway 2.

I'm thankful that the ER wasn't busy and that I could be seen right away and stitched back together.

I'm thankful that we knew the nurse that evening, who helped us feel well taken care of.

I'm thankful for friends who could be called after the hours where people usually make phone calls and show up ready to care for our girls who were a little worried after waving their mom off in an ambulance.

I'm thankful for Ken being home these days, ready and willing to do all the things. 

So many things.

And for texts and cards and quilts and meals and riddles and little painted R-pods that remind me that we are loved and not alone.

God is ever-present and keeps showing up in all the people who cross our path as His hands and feet.

I'm thankful for girls who love Lego and reading books and who are trying to have some "normal" summer days in spite of all the extra this time around.

I'm thankful for a daughter who is an expressive reader who read to me on the couch all afternoon today.

My brother said to me last week, "You have good people." 

And he is so right.

So, even though we've had a little set-back,

And I'm moving much more slowly again,

We continue to be on the way to recovery, one day at a time.

Trusting that God who has known all the details up until now, knew about this part of the journey, too.

Celebrations and Humble Thanks

We have been spending some time with my family for the last few days,

in anticipation of celebrating my parents' 50th wedding anniversary this weekend.

Tonight we celebrated with dinner as a family - made a few things on our own, picked a few things up, and enjoyed my brother's BBQ'ing skills at home. 

It allowed us to just spend some more time together, looking at pictures, telling stories, laughing, and celebrating the gift of family and 50 years of marriage.

Some more celebrating with friends is yet to come.

It has been so very good to spend time with family instead of on my own at the hospital - feeling like I was pulling Ken away from our girls, but also needing him to be there with me. 

I'm still not moving quickly, but it's more okay if there is time between pain pills.

I can't reach all of the things, but I can reach lots of them.

My girls inspect my staples each night - we're trying to make that as normal as possible. 

They're pretty sure it's gross to have staples in your abdomen, 

but also, it's pretty amazing that God made our bodies to heal the way they do. 

It's coming along.

I baked today. 

Not entirely on my own, but there were hands ready to help where needed and it just made me feel a little more like myself again. 

We have a visit Monday with the surgeon to get the staples removed.

Hopefully, we'll also have a better idea of further referrals at that point.

Continued thanks for all the prayers and encouragement we are receiving. 

We are humbled.

And so very thankful.

Out!

This will be short. It has been a full day and I’m tired.

However, I was discharged today and got to spend the evening playing cards and visiting with my family.

I’m not moving quickly, but I’m moving and we are on the road to recovery. 

God is good. 

And we are thankful.

In Sickness and in Health…

Thank you for all the wonderfully encouraging words and for all the prayers that have been offered for me and for my family; over the last weeks, and specifically for today.

I am so glad that God’s got this. 

Surgery is complete.

The surgeon said it went well and so we are on the way to recovery. 

I had a great nurse at check-in this morning.

The IV was successful on the first try.

My girls were in the most excellent hands.

And I think we’re figuring out a bit of a balance between pain meds and nausea. 

Not the best day of my life, but also with only 1 possible“best” day, it’s tough competition. 😏

I did my best to offer Ken the opportunity to fulfill some of our marriage vows today as we celebrated our anniversary. 

He sat beside me all day, offered me sips of water, ate the hospital food I couldn’t stomach, helped with temperature control, and pretty much did whatever I asked of him. 

“In sickness and in health” isn’t the glamorous part…

but it is the steadfast, loyal expression of love that I am so grateful for - every day - but today in particular.

This was supposed to be a surgery update, but turned into a public anniversary card. 

Sorry.

You get what you get. 

Alternate Reality

It's been a week - and while nothing has changed in the pre-op plans or medical updates, it would be unfair to report nothing when I've said that I would.

One more pre-op on Tuesday and then surgery on Friday. 

Less than a week to go. 

We are spending time with family and some friends - and in some ways nothing about the cancer seems real.

Catching up on life, watching the girls play and laugh and reconnect after another year. 

Escaping escape rooms and drinking coffee upon coffee while picking up after time gone by.

One of my girls voiced what Ken and I had already been talking about the other night - 

"I don't want to leave. 

Then we have to start thinking about cancer and surgery and you." 
And she's not wrong. 

Mostly, I feel pretty good.  

Mostly, there is nothing different about the last 2 weeks of this summer compared to previous summers.

Mostly, we're enjoying staying up late, sleeping in, eating summer snacks, and swimming at the lake.

Mostly.

There are the days when tears come quickly. 

There are moments my body reminds me it isn't well.

There are comments and questions that people wouldn't ask if it wasn't real.

But it is.

And as much as we don't really want to start thinking about 

cancer and surgery and all that other stuff, 

we also want it out.

And in order to get past it, 

we first have to work through it.

And we are thankful,

so very thankful,

that we don't have to work through it alone.

Write This Down!

Sometimes we need reminders.

Sometimes I need reminders.

Like 5 screens worth of alarms on my phone.

A calendar that is linked with work, home, and Ken - all full of reminders of things we need to do or places we need to be. 

As I work my way through pre-op appointments, I have sometimes felt the repetition. What meds are you taking, what are your allergies, have you had previous surgeries? 

But I know they ask to be sure; to confirm and double check. You would hate for something to get missed. 

There is repetition in other places. I have told my story a few times in the last month. ;) 

Trying to keep people updated. 

Trying to remind myself of the truth that one-day-at-a-time is much better for my mental heath than jumping ahead to the what-ifs and yeah-buts. 

I am thankful for the little encouragements along the way. For people who step in and affirm the truths that I see in my good moments and know in my heart but struggle to find in the hard moments. 

With that, 3 pre-ops down, 2 to go. Surgery in 2 weeks. 

I have been given a lot of information. Sometimes knowing a lot is good. Sometimes it's hard. But I also know that I need to process and so having information for me is usually helpful. 

As long as I also remember the truth of what I know. 

One of my favourite verses has always been Revelation 21:5, which reads: "He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

While I believe wholeheartedly in the first part, it's not actually my favourite part.

I like the part that gets at my human-ness - "Write this down!" 

Why? "Because these words are trustworthy and true."

Because in my worries and feeling overwhelmed, I forget.

Because in my world of information and details and other people who also have information and details, I get drawn into more than I can handle. I get pulled into thinking it's on me. Thinking it's all on the date the surgeon picked. Thinking it's all on what symptoms I'm feeling or not feeling. Thinking that I somehow have control of something that is out of my hands. 

God has the details. 

He clothes the lilies of the field and feeds the birds of the air. 

He didn't say, "Write this down," in Matthew 6, but He could have. Because those words are also trustworthy and true. 

Tomorrow has enough worries of its own.

Pre-Op Plans

 It has already been a week - and yet it seems like a long time since I posted last.

The first couple of weeks were full of ups and downs; updates and appts. 

Now that there is a plan, things have slowed down a bit, and for that I am thankful. 

There is still lots to anticipate and be anxious about, but it seems we have the information we need for now and are actually able to make a few plans that are more typical for the first week of July.

Pre-op dates are set. We thought there would be 1 pre-op appointment, but it turns out there are 5. Thankfully, we received dates for all of them within a day of each other. 

The first office sent 4 dates - all of which they set-up as phone appointments when they realized we do not live in Edmonton. That is an amazing gift! 

The second office called and asked when we wanted to come in - it could be any time between now and the surgery date. I asked for it not to be right in the middle, but closer to now or closer to then. She offered early this week. So, that is my only trip to Edmonton between now and surgery. Another reason to be thankful.

The rest of the visits are spread out over the next 2 weeks, but all over the phone. With that as an option, we are still able to connect with some family pre-surgery and fit in some cousin time for our kids. And although it seems like another planning-life-a-day-at-a-time event, it hopefully allows for some "normal" summer time activities, too.

That's all for now.

Surgery Dates and Itinerary Changes

I posted last time that our surgeon said he wanted surgery in early July and that he didn't want to wait longer.

And so we went through the overwhelm of realizing how quick that was - and trying to remind ourselves of how amazing it was that we were going to be able to get in for surgery much sooner than the initial 4 month estimate we had been given.

On Friday, we heard that it will be 2 weeks later than we thought - mid-July - which is still amazingly quick compared to so many others who I know wait a much longer time than this.

It's amazing how what seemed overwhelming and impossible to accept and be grateful for on Monday, became something so disappointing to have changed by Friday. Suddenly I found myself fighting hard to be grateful for a firm date that is still only 6 weeks after we found out about all of this. 

2 weeks later is only 2 more weeks. 

But it changes plans and dates and expectations and ideas about what our "new" summer plans might look like. It changes ideas about things spreading or not spreading, and it asks us once again to take a step back and look at the big picture.

The call from the surgeon's office followed communication earlier that day with our travel agent. 

Ken had initiated a conversation with her earlier that day about how to go about canceling our Zambia tickets; what steps we had to take with insurance, how much we might actually get back, etc.

As God working in the details would have it, 20 minutes before reaching out to the travel agent, Ken had received an email from the airlines we had booked with saying there was a change to the itinerary. He deleted it - why would he need to know about an itinerary update for flights we were canceling?

What he missed in deleting the email is what our travel agent filled him in on shortly afterward.

The itinerary change was big - over 8 hours different - and so, unbeknownst to us, but thankfully known to her, was that means we can cancel our trip without penalties because the new schedule doesn't work for us. 

Coincidence? I don't think so.

And so our jaws had dropped at God's timing; at how He is working in the little details and giving us this gracious gift of a full refund on our trip plans. 

An hour later, the surgeon's office called to let us know our surgery date.

Which was not the date we had expected. 

Which was longer than the surgeon wanted to wait.

Which was an answer to prayer for allowing me to finish out the year with my students.

Which was more the timing we had initially thought - even if our 5-day-old plans had gotten us fixed on something else.

How easy it was to celebrate God's timing and His working in the details with awe and gratitude when it worked out better than we had expected!

How hard it was to accept God's timing and His working in the details with awe and gratitude when it changed what we had our hearts set on; when our plans were not the same as His. 

The trouble is that God's timing and working in the details are just as real in itinerary changes with airlines as they are in scheduling changes with hospitals and surgeons. 

There are other people who have also been anticipating surgery on the dates we thought we might have, who have also been waiting, and who are also afraid and wondering what's next or how things will go.

And so the trouble isn't really trouble at all - unless I take my eyes off of what I know to be true. 

The trouble is actually that it's hard to trust sometimes. 

It's hard to let go of control and to live what I believe when I say that God is faithful; that He holds the details in His hands; that He holds me and us in the grip of His hand. 

He does. And for that I am thankful. 

I am reminded again that He provides what we need for each day.

"Give us this day our daily bread."

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly....

Seems cliche, but also, I need a starting point.

My grade 3's are working on narratives and ensuring we catch the reader's attention from the start.

So, let's start with The Ugly. 

The bruises on my arm from the attempts at an IV site last week are ugly. 

But, on the bright side, they are less ugly than yesterday.

Healing is taking place, and hopefully they'll be gone by the time I get new ones.

The Good...

We were able to meet with the surgeon today. 

He was running ahead of schedule and we were brought in 20 minutes early.

He is hoping to do the surgery in early July. 

He wants the cancer out as soon as possible and while it is still contained.

This is a huge answer to prayer.

He was kind and thorough and gave us as much information as I think he could with what he knows and has seen.

His team will work with me pre-op to figure out details of diabetes management during surgery and early recovery.

The Bad...

While in our minds, we knew our trip to Zambia was out, it is officially off the table as recovery is, at best, 6-8 weeks.

He also had to tell us all the possibilities of things that might not go as planned - which is good - but also makes my brain live in more of full-time-adult mode instead of allowing it to rest in faith-like-a-child mode.

Pre-op might already happen before the end of the school year. I want to spend the last few days of school with "my kids". Those days are precious. I don't want to miss them and have a sub there in my place. Even if I have a great sub.

It is an estimated 6-8 days in hospital following surgery. 

That's a long time for our family to not all be under one roof when stressful stuff is going on.

There will likely be chemo to follow. Which is probably good, but also comes with a lot more unknowns, and I feel like we have enough of those right now. That being said, our doctor satisfied our questions and helped us work through some details.

There are lots of other things that my brain is spinning on tonight, but for now, that's the update. 

We are thankful for all the great people loving on us and our kids. 

We are thankful for amazing answers to prayer and doctors that care.

We are thankful for people that reach out, even if we don't give great answers for now.

Time for some report cards. They are not finished yet. 

Believe it or not, I haven't been able to focus on those the last week. :)

God is faithful and will provide for this, too.

Where to Start....

For those who are just jumping on this train, a few quick details to get you on track... 

- Colonoscopy last Wed. (June 3) 

- Dr. told us it was concerning - likely cancer - and what the list of next steps/appts would likely be. 

- Results confirmed Friday (June 5) 

- Dr. called us Sunday afternoon to go over results and let us know that Monday morning he'd be contacting Diagnostic Imaging to ensure that my CT scan was marked as urgent, as well as contacting the Colorectal Surgeon in Edmonton to get the ball rolling. 

- Monday afternoon I had a call from CT people asking me to come Tuesday morning at 9. 

- Tuesday morning - CT scan - results look pretty good from what we can see on our online portal, but no official word from dr. yet. 

- Thursday morning - phone call from surgeon's office in Edm. They want me to come for an appt on Monday afternoon already. We will hopefully find out more then about dates/plans/etc.

Here we are. 

In the last few days, I think we have said, "One day at a time..." more than we have in our lifetime. 

And yet, it really is where we want to start. 

We have seen God's faithfulness and provision already and are so thankful for the doctor who did Wednesday's scope. 

I had never met him before, and yet he has been my biggest advocate - giving me as much info as he could right from the get go. 

Getting CT ordered already on Friday, calling us on a Sunday afternoon, contacting CT/Surgeon right away on Monday - and the ball is definitely rolling. 

There are more people praying than we can count, and I am repeatedly being assured of God's presence in this journey. 

As Christians, we talk about how God didn't just make the world and then leave us here, but how He is actively working among us. 

He promises that He is always with us and will never leave us or forsake us. 

And we see Him actively working. 

I know that He loves me and that he is both good and gracious. 

He provides what we need for each day. 

Repeating those truths to the 8 and 9 year olds that I teach has helped me remember that we are called to have faith like a child. 

Adults worry.

Adults jump ahead. 

Adults know all the bad things and the brokenness and we easily go there. 

8 and 9 year olds accept more readily the truth that God loves us and walks with us. 

That He is faithful and He promises to give us what we need for each day. 

8 and 9 year olds celebrate answered prayers of a teacher who is absent already the day after all of this news because our prayers have been heard and the test we needed is happening! 

They aren't afraid to talk about why cancer is a scary word. 

Or ask, "How's your cancer?" 

They ask the big questions like, "Why did you get cancer?" 

And they let us step back into the childlike faith that we have in the context of understanding this broken world. 

We talked about tears and hard days and how those things are real. 

They are a part of this journey already and will continue to be. 

But they come in the context of our God who gets us through the hard days; 

Who is saddened by the brokenness in this world, and who longs for us to be whole. 

So, welcome, if you are here to walk alongside us. 

I/we will be try to update here. 

This has always been more of a reflective place for me. 

And as I sat to put some details on paper, it already turned out to be more reflective than informative. 

I make no promises about what it will be or become. 

However, for today, it is a space to help me keep up more easily. 

We can't possibly manage the gift of all the people who love us and want to walk this journey with us. 

So we will try this. 

Thanks for your prayers. 

Thanks for your encouragement. 

Thanks for being the hands and feet of Jesus and being a physical reminder that we are not alone.

Christmas Cookies in October

Funny what it takes to get a girl to start writing again.
It's been awhile.
And yet, this seems like where I belong.

I lost a friend this week.
He started as a teacher,
A peer support mentor.
Then a parent of the kids I babysat,
and the one whom I spent lots of time making small talk with
on rides to and from his house to watch them.
Then he was a colleague,
and a friend.

I didn't really know how it was going to hit me
if it came to this.
I knew he was a fighter,
and he was determined,
and the doctor's reports always seemed good.

But the last few days have left me fairly unmotivated to do much.
I keep rethinking conversations and memories.
Not the memories you think you'll have.
But funny ones.
Like me being too tired to know what he asked me on the way home from a babysitting job and making something up, only to have him respond with, "You don't know?" to a question that should have been as simple as what my name was.
Or making cookies with his girls and having him comment on the "killer icing" - pretty sure because it was crazy sweet, and not crazy good.

Other memories, too.
Like being told that I didn't have to ask for his approval so often on a project I worked on for him  because he trusted me.
Having supper together when he came to Winnipeg for workshops
and getting to connect again.

He was a listener.
A question asker.
He had a dry, witty sense of humour.
The video about snow-brushing the wrong car? I saw that in one of his workshops.
He was kind. Always welcoming and caring.
Never saying something to put someone else down.
He had a gentle laugh.
And an incredible ability to see the world through the lens of Scripture.
The most abstract concept -
and he'd be able to find a Biblical viewpoint - or at least ask the right questions.

I found myself baking Christmas cut-out cookies today.
In October.
In the midst of days where I've felt tired and overwhelmed.
And certainly not something I would want to try with my 2 year old.
But for some reason today, I made a double batch.
I had both girls help.
Like I used to do with his girls.
We didn't get past the baking to the decorating.
Cutting out was enough of a challenge - as I remember it being when his girls were small.
There was no "killer icing".
But it brought me to tears.
And I was suddenly playing memory after memory over in my head.
Regretting not having done more or checking in more often.
Remembering how humble and gracious he was with his girls.
And knowing how much they're going to miss him.
How much they already do.
And just feeling sad.
Even though I know his struggle is over.
His days of feeling like less than he was and could be are finished.
He is whole, and cancer free.

The restoration he's been dreaming about -
doing speed builds and brainstorming about competing stories -
finally coming to the glory of how God intended and intends for it to be;
Home and whole
and full of delight.

He's missed.

You Are Here

I was reading an article this week in Faith Today magazine -
Building a better Lego car it was called.
Naturally, it had to do with Lego, so I was enticed into reading it further.

It talked about watching children build Lego cars at Boston's Legoland Discovery Center.
Their creativity was endless;
they built, and raced, and then remodeled to improve their designs.
The author writes, "Neither success nor failure seemed to bring unhappiness in these young engineers as they joyfully continued to engage in the building process."

They were in it - 100% -
and continued to be in it no matter how the races went,
no matter if their cars fell apart,
with eyes eager to look for improvements and other options.

I also read an article on calling this week - this one in Relevant Magazine -
the author talked about calling not necessarily being your job,
but rather who you are.
It can be expressed in your work,
but that doesn't necessarily mean your job is your calling.

And putting these two together got me to thinking.
I always felt called to be a teacher -
aside from short blips on my high-school radar where someone told me I was too smart to work with 7 year olds all my life (unpacking that statement is a whole other blog post...),
where I wanted to have a black Jeep and so thought being a pharmacist might be all right and would give me the cash for said vehicle,
and that killer whale phase.
Yeah.
Anyone else want to train and swim with orcas until thinking it through and realizing there would be a lot of science courses involved in that (in pharmacy, too), and for someone who didn't love the sciences, it might not be the right career path?
I digress.
I always felt called to be a teacher -
from playing school with the neighbourhood kids,
to my early babysitting days,
it seemed like a natural fit.
And for the 11+ years I taught,
most of the time, I can say that it was.

Fast forward a little -
marry a pastor,
resign from teaching position,
move to a new community,
have a child,
and somewhere along the way that call to be a teacher got put to the side.
And let's be honest for a minute -
I miss it.
A lot.
Well, most of it.
I don't miss marking long writing assignments and projects,
or the crunch of report card time,
or late nights of preparing that often left little time for other things,
or the confrontations and conflicts that come with any job that involves working with people -
but even with all of that,
I miss it.
In many ways,
it defined me.
And I think I miss that, too.

But the reality is that the place I am right now,
is the place God has asked me to be.
And it's not all bad.
I'm pretty fond of the pastor I married,
and am getting to know people and making friends in my new community.
I still have connections with good friends who aren't so close by,
opportunities to do some small bits of education work,
and a pretty cute little girl who is cheerful most of the time.

In this place, where I am now,
I have the same responsibility to develop the gifts God has given me;
the same need to find ways to be creative and to look for improvements and other options in regards to what my gifts are or how to use them;
I can still be a teacher -
of how to walk and learn and obey (perhaps even without the marking?);
I can be the "me" God has designed and called me to be -
without the definitions of me that I identified with before.

As the author of the second article put it:
"This isn't to say that it will be easy.
On the contrary, good work is hard work."

But good work is what we are called to -
no matter where we are on the map when we see that "You are here" pointer -
and if we seek to fulfill that calling,
we will be blessed,
and likely even find joy in the process.

Thomas the Twin Revisited

Been reading through some old blog posts - which has gotten me thinking about maybe blogging again. We'll see. In the mean time, we had a sermon about Thomas on Sunday and it got me looking back to this entry from 2007. Thought I'd share...

Thomas the Twin

Have you ever thought that we're pretty hard on Thomas?
He has gone down in history as the doubter.
That's how he is remembered.
No one speaks about him as the guy who wanted to be sure of the truth.
Nobody tells stories about how he was speared to death in the interest of spreading the Gospel.

Think about it a minute.
One of his best friends had gone from being welcomed into Jerusalem with Hosannas
to being arrested and crucified
in a matter of a week.
You want to talk about an emotional roller coaster?
Up, down -
confusion, sadness, helplessness, guilt for leaving Him with the guards -
He knew how Jesus had died.
I'm not sure if he watched the crucifixion or not,
but it doesn't really matter.
It was the talk of the town, I'm sure.

Either way, if I put myself into his sandals for just a short moment
and imagine where I would have been at
I can't come up with much more than
"emotional wreck".

I'm a skeptic with simple things
like if Grenadine syrup is really made from pomegranates.
And that won't really affect my life.
It won't change my emotions
or put into question what I have devoted my life to for the last 3 years.
I didn't leave my job
to walk the country side
learning the truth
and then sharing the Good News of what I had learned.

But Thomas had been in the inner circle.
Not only did Jesus know him,
but he knew Jesus.
He loved Jesus.
And, just like you or I would have,
he doubted the reality that Jesus could really be alive.
In fact, if anything,
I think we should commend him for his honesty.
He said what I'm sure some of the other disciples were thinking.

And that gets me to "Thomas the Twin".
I learned today that the name Thomas means twin.
And I think there is some incredible irony there.
Perhaps it is God quietly putting His sense of humour
into what He knows is generations of people who just don't get it.

We single Thomas out as someone different.
He is remembered all on his own
as the guy who didn't believe.

In truth, he is probably the disciple that many of us are like.
Our "twin", if you will.
If I am honest with myself,
there are a lot of things I doubt.
I know that God can heal cancer.
I know that God can bring reprieve to those who suffer from depression.
I know that God loves me even though I mess up over and over and over.
I know that life is better when God is control instead of me.
I know that God holds each one of us in His hands
even if it seems that He lets us go from time to time.
I know a lot of things.
But do I really live in a way that demonstrates that I believe them?
Or maybe the better question is,
"Do I really believe them?"
Because if I do,
there are parts of my life that should be different;
Parts of my life that should demonstrate this faith just on their own.
I shouldn't have to remind myself what I believe
if I really believe it.

Sometimes we say that we are the biggest critics of the characteristics of others that we hate in ourselves.
Thomas, I would like to say,
is my equal.
Instead of singling him out,
perhaps I should join him
and acknowledge my lack of faith.
He brings out that part of me that doubts;
the part of me that knows the answer
but doesn't act on it
because feeling it in my heart
and allowing it to transform me
takes more than just knowing.

It takes believing.
And it means surrendering myself to the Spirit of God.
I'm not really good at surrender.

Perhaps a good place to start
is with Thomas' words of greeting for Jesus
"My Lord and my God"...
humble me, that I may truly believe
and so live the joy of the resurrection.

Lemons...

They say when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.  But I'm curious if anyone ever thought of that logistically.  For some people, that's a lot of lemonade.  What if you don't even like lemonade?  What if you like it at first, but then it just tastes sour, or you get bored of it, or maybe you run out of sugar.  Or ice.  Who likes warm lemonade?  And there's still the question of all the lemons.  And the peels and the pits.  What do you do with all the waste from making the lemonade?

I've been struggling a little recently with what to do with some of the lemons.  Sometimes, I think it's important to get beyond painting a pretty picture, necessary even.  In truth, I think I've often looked at lemonade as putting the lemons into perspective; getting the bigger picture if you will.  God has blessed me richly, and with that, ought I to really complain about lemons?

However, God also gave me wisdom and a heart, and sometimes it hurts, or I feel overwhelmed with the need to get to the source of the lemons.  Where are they coming from?  If the lemon delivery service knew I had all the lemons I needed, could I request a change in the contents of my deliveries?  Could I have strawberries or even bananas sometimes?  Maybe they don't know that I'm getting a surplus and don't have enough lemonade pitchers to make something good of all the lemons?

What if I gave them some of the lemons back?  With a little sugar and ice, of course, so that they, too, could see the lemons, but also have the opportunity to turn those lemons into something good?

Just a little food for thought.
Literally.

And hopefully a productive week of both lemonade production, lemon returning, and a little bit of fruit salad.

A Thrill of Hope

I was reading an article last week from Relevant magazine all about Advent.  It quoted a couple of Christmas carols, one of which was "O Holy Night."

I'm sure it wasn't supposed to be that part of the article that caught my attention - the whole thing was good - but for some reason the words of "O Holy Night" stood out like they haven't before.

I think it's that word "thrill."
"A thrill of hope..."

I don't think I express extreme emotions very often.
Emotions, yes, but not the absolutely miserable or completely ecstatic kinds.
Like a thrill.
When I think of being thrilled, I'm thinking of things in the marriage proposal category.
Or someone having a baby.
Or bungee jumping off a bridge.
Although that's more of a rush and not really in the same category.
But it's that kind of crazy excitement.
I'm pretty sure I say I'm thrilled sometimes.
Thrilled to have my report cards finished.
Thrilled to be able to be a part of something big.
Even thrilled to beat all the Angry Birds levels.

But I'm not sure that's what this thrill is about.
The coming of the Christ-child -
"the weary world rejoices!"

A weary world I can identify with.
Too busy to rest, to relish in the simple joys of creation, family, and community.
Too caught up in the rush to really revel at the mystery and incredible gift of Christ.
Overworked, scrambling to make ends meet, bogged down by realities of sickness, brokenness, insecurities, and fears.

And wondering why.
Why the hurt?
Why the exhaustion?
Why the discontentment and lack of peace?

That is why He came.
To offer hope to a broken world.
That we may see Him and know Him.
And know the peace that only He can give.

May you find His joy this Advent season
and be thrilled because a baby WAS born,
and may you wait, with eager expectation,
for the return of the One who grants the hope and peace that this "weary world" needs so deeply.

Irony

Less than a day after posting about all the time I had, I was with a group of friends and we were talking about how I only had 4 and a half weeks left before our time in GR would be up.
I had just been feeling so refreshed.
And suddenly, it seems like it's back to a list of things to accomplish in 4.5 weeks (almost 3.5 now!)
and knowing that most of our weekends are planned,
and that we have to start thinking of how to use up the food in the cupboards,
and all that not quite as fun stuff.

I had a quiet afternoon when I got home that day.
I even took a nap for the better part of the afternoon.
And then I stayed home instead of going to hockey,
and just enjoyed having time with us.

No agenda - just time.
(It may have resulted in the purchase of an updated version of Angry Birds - it is important for one who has trouble with science to invest in practical ways to build scientific skills - like the physics of the trajectory :)...)
And once again, good.

I am learning how important rest is.
It's something I've known - and realized often -
but I am reminded again and again.
One of these days, I just might get it.

So, this week has been more rest.
On Thursday, before heading to Toronto for the weekend, I enjoyed an hour of singing/strumming with Picking and Grinning - banjo, mandolin, guitars, horn, harmonica, a little piano, a fiddle, and some singing - bluegrassy music like "I'll Fly Away", "This Little Light of Mine", and "This Land Is Your Land."  Good stuff.

Then we headed to Toronto and have spent  the weekend with my grandma - chatting, playing games, playing guitar, eating the goods that Grandma's place always has, and visiting with my aunt and uncle, and some cousins.  My dad even managed to make it in for some of the visiting.

Today we're off to meet with some of Ken's cousins en route to home - and then get organized to have his folks visit for a few days.

In light of American Thanksgiving, I'm reminded again of how much we have to be grateful for.
So much.
We are blessed.

And filled with opportunities for rest.
And this might be a good time to point out that I don't have to do report cards this week.
That in itself makes me feel quite rested!
Although, I have been thinking more about being back in the classroom.
It's good to put my head back into that space and think about the rest of the year ahead.

"In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength..." Isaiah 30:15

Be rested and refreshed - and thankful.
Happy American Thanksgiving!

The Gift of Time

When I had a wedding shower a year and a half ago, my friends gave me the gift of time.
It was brilliant.
We were given gift cards for movies and dinners of all kinds, a night away, and a clock.
Brilliant.
We enjoyed every piece of that gift.

It seems this fall, we have been given that gift all over again.
It looks a little different this time, but it is SO good.

I don't think I have heard my own voice say, "I can do it.  I've got time," as often as I have in the last 3 months.  It has been such an incredible treat.
Time for cooking.  And baking bread.
Time for exercising.
Time for reading.  (Although I haven't read nearly as much as I thought I would.  It's amazing how quickly time passes, even with "nothing" to do!)
Time for reflecting and writing.
Time for us.
Time for serving others without having to set aside special time to make sure it happens.
Time for friends and just stopping to chat as opportunities arrive.

I love it.
The question is, how to make this a reality when our time here is finished.
Because that really is something I'd like to achieve on some level.

Time for life - for loving, and laughing, and really living to the fullest.
It's so wonderfully refreshing and good for my soul.

No rush for now;
I have been given the gift of time to figure it out. :)

Possibility...

So I'm not re-committing just yet.  Although I did do some writing last week and realized just how much I enjoy it, and how great of a means of expression it is for me.  I think I learn a lot about what I'm actually thinking when I write, so I just may have to get back on this bandwagon.

For now, however, a short thought about community.
In my writing last week, I commented on how blessed I was to be part of a pastor's family.
Strange thought, I know.  Often there are a lot of negative images and phrases that come to mind when someone talks about being a pastor's kid or pastor's wife.
I realized how much of a blessing it is to walk into a church and be known by others.
People know who you are, say hello, ask about your week, and take the time and interest to know about you because they know who you are.
As a result of this, I've had the blessing of quickly getting to know others in the church.  Because of conversations they often initiated with me, I got to know who they were.

We've been in a different community for 9 weeks now.
Granted, we haven't been to the same church more than once.
There are over 120 CRCs within about an hour radius of where we're living.
Ridiculous, really, but another topic all together.
What I've come to realize once again is the importance of community.
We've found community in different ways here - soup night, fellow classmates, Bible study, sports teams, and neighbours.
However, there is a community which we are familiar with and appreciate on Sundays.
A group of people who know our names; whom we feel free to worship with; whose style of worship is familiar.  People who ask about our week and care to hear the answer.  People who know us, and who we sometimes don't have to say a lot to in order to know that we belong.
In the churches we've visited, we have yet to find one that is similar to the one we worship in at home.
We have yet to find one where we've quickly said, "Let's go there again next week!"
We show up, shake hands with strangers, share Lord's Supper with strangers even, but I have felt a distinct emptiness upon coming home.
It's not home.
And we miss it.
Not to say we're not enjoying our time away.  We are.  It's good.  So good.
But it's not home.
It's a healthy longing.
One that was created deep within us.

A desire for home.

6 weeks to go.  That's crazy.
But when it comes, it will be good to be back in Winnipeg.

There's another deep longing for home.
It's different.
And hopefully much farther off.
Because I'm enjoying my time here.
God is good.

Do Not Be Afraid

The angels making visits in the year before that first Christmas had important messages to give.
They told of John the Baptist’s coming,
of the birth of Jesus;
they assured a man who feared for his own reputation and the integrity of the woman he had committed to marry,
and they announced to a group of tired, lowly shepherds the arrival of a baby king who was to save the world, and could be found in the town nearby.

The angels knew they were messengers of God. They knew that what they had to share was real and true, but they also knew something of the people they had come to visit. Whether it was their own appearance, the shock of the sudden presence of a stranger speaking, perhaps the messages themselves, or even the pieces of the journey that each recipient found themselves traveling; the angels’ messages were the same: Do not be afraid.

“Do not be afraid, Zacharias. Your prayers have been heard.”
“Do not be afraid, Mary. God loves you dearly.”
"Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife!”
"Do not be afraid!” the angel said to the shepherds. “Listen, I bring you glorious news of great joy which is for all the people.”

To each the message was really the same: God is bigger than you, and He’s asking you to join Him in celebrating, in carrying out a part of His story, in walking in faith. Don’t be afraid – He knows what the journey ahead looks like.

A new year is ahead and we have an opportunity; a chance to step forward acknowledging as the old English hymn writer did that “this is [our] Father’s world” and “God is the ruler yet.”

We step ahead knowing that the year past held many reasons to celebrate and praise God for His faithfulness and enduring love in our own lives and in the lives of our families.

We also step ahead knowing that the year past held details of brokenness that we don’t always like to talk about.

In all of this, both the joys and the challenges, the truths of God and His unfailing promises have been constant. Deeper than just in His promises, God has been sovereign and He is faithful.

So as we move into the year ahead, may we be reminded not to be afraid.
May we be reminded that God is bigger than us, and He asks us to join Him in celebrating, in carrying out parts of His story, doing so by walking in faith.

Happy New Year!