gratitude

Scattering Shadows

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“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:5.

Candlelight flickers on the ceiling, illuminating the darkness with its warmth, scattering shadows across the room. It’s peaceful and inviting, just what I need after a very full day. Sinking into the couch, I watch the light dancing across the ceiling and marvel at such a simple beauty bringing me so much solace. An unexpected gift from the Lord, I conclude with a thankful sigh.

A few days later, my phone lights up with an early evening text. Go outside, it says, with an attached photo of a rare and unexpected moment of brilliance. I step out the back door into the chilly air. Thanks to all the city lights, it’s hard to see with the naked eye but as I raise my phone camera above the dark horizon, an incredible sight appears! Northern lights dance across the sky. In all my days I’ve never seen them in that colour! Growing up on the farm, we’d set out our lawn chairs in the middle of the yard and watch a breathtaking show in shades of green and blue, but rarely pinks and yellows. Another gift, Lord!

Some recent mornings have dawned uneventfully, but a few of these late sunrises have been layered with blush, coral, lavender and periwinkle fading into the grey morning sky. I can’t help myself! I step out our busy morning routine and snap a photo or two, but they never really do it justice. Thank you Lord for Your beauty and goodness! 

This week has brought a thick blanket of snow, fresh and clean, and a short blast of true, blue winter cold is now upon us for a couple of days, ushering in the Advent season with its great anticipation of the best celebration of the year. From brown and colourless to brilliant white – a picture of a heart transformed. Come, Lord Jesus, my heart cries. We need You so deeply!

November’s gifts of light have blessed me beyond measure! They’ve been a call to slow down and sit at the feet of Jesus, resting in His presence, even just for a moment. I’ve been living a busy, distracted life, and yet, the Lord is using these ordinary moments to remind me of His goodness and grace.

My prayer in these busy years has often been, Lord, let me be interruptible. Help me to see the things that are truly important for this moment, for this day.

An impromptu board game, a necessary late night heart-to-heart, a releasing of my own plans to make room for the beautiful things right in front of me — I am finding myself increasingly dependent on the Lord for wisdom in the ordinary moments of life. And I am finding that He is faithful to provide!

What a beautiful gift of a moment to breathe before we jump into all things jolly! My prayer in this season is from Colossians 3:15-17 — 

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Such important truth to preach to our hearts words as we engage the next few weeks of preparations for our Christmas celebrations. Advent has become a beloved part of our holiday season, not because we need more traditions, but because it reminds us that of the grand story of history unfolding before us. We can step off the frantic merry-go-round of rushing around trying to accomplish our checklist in time for our perfect holiday and refocus our minds and hearts on the King of Kings who is faithful to do what He has promised. He has been patiently unfolding His plan since the dawn of time, and the vastness of this truth brings a deep sense of awe and amazement that we are included in it!

“Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

Fall on your knees! O hear the angel voices!
O night divine! O night when Christ was born!
O night divine! O night, O night divine”

These words were penned by an avowed atheist Placide Cappeau in the mid-1800s at the request of his local parish priest. It was the first song ever played over the newly invented airwaves in 1906, with a soaring melody on an old violin, to the amazement of ship’s radio operators travelling across the sea. We sing melodies from centuries ago that bring tears to our eyes even today because they hold unchanging truth — we need Jesus!

As November becomes December, with lengthening shadows illuminated by the glow of a candle, and we are tempted to get distracted and lose the plot, disheartened by the heaviness around us, we are determined to pause to remember that the Light of the World will return to overcome the darkness forever. May our ordinary moments, our “interruptions”, the gifts of His grace, the glimmer of His light in our lives, scatter our own shadows and give us the true hope our hearts so desperately need.

For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
    and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
    Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the greatness of his government and peace
    there will be no end.
He will reign on David’s throne
    and over his kingdom,
establishing and upholding it
    with justice and righteousness
    from that time on and forever.
The zeal of the Lord Almighty
    will accomplish this.

Isaiah 9:6-7 (NIV)

Image: Unsplash

A Necessary Pause

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In a word: briliant.

September rarely disappoints in this part of the world! It has some of our best weather, our best colours, our best wildlife… what a gift! In the middle of the whirlwind of things to be done, afternoons are warm, roads are snow-free, and the golden kisses of autumn are everywhere.

It’s a much slower transition this year, though. No frost yet! Most years, we have a mid-month freeze up that sends the green on its way. Thanks to stretch of warmth, many bushes and trees are still holding on to their summer wardrobe. I suspect, though, over the next two or three weeks we’ll really see the autumn glow-up! And it will be glorious.

Just in time for Thanksgiving season at our house. Since the kids were little, we’ve been intentional about how we spend the weeks leading up to our Thanksgiving celebrations. Back then, it was easy. Life was a bit slower, kids jumped on the bandwagon and it didn’t take much to make it fun.

These days, though, with older kids and teenagers, it’s a different ball game. It’s no surprise that construction paper handprint leaves don’t cut it anymore, but our family gratitude journal has become an anticipated part of our routine. When I considered giving it a rest for a while, the loud protests revealed that it really has become a meaningful weekly tradition. It may not look the same as the handprint tree, but the intention remains: pause and take the time to remember the goodness of the Lord in our lives.

Holiday seasons rarely come at a convenient time. Life has a way of moving forward in ways we’re not ready for, and pressing pause on a full schedule with everyone’s different hopes and dreams for their intersecting lives can be a real struggle at times. Add relational tensions, unexpected illness and other dramatic life interruptions, and it can become a tough lesson in managing disappointment rather quickly. The costs can be high, and they’re not only financial.

Can we really afford to pause for Thanksgiving?

Lately I’ve been asking myself, “Can we really afford NOT to?” What an opportunity to rest in the Lord and see Him show up in places that feel impossibly difficult. As I wrestle with what it means for us this year, I keep thinking of a few thoughts from the final chapter of the book of Philippians:

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength. (Phil. 4:12-13)

And especially the promise:

And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus. To our God and Father be glory for ever and ever. Amen. (v.19-20)

Yes Lord! We’re trusting that You know our needs — and You will meet us in those places we need You most.

Image: mine

Let it Be Summer

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The year goes by so fast, doesn’t it? June is done, and with it, a sense of finality. We’re still in the stage of measuring our lives in school years and summertimes, and summertime is taking centre stage right now.

My favourite tree across the street is larger than last year and all colours of beautiful blooms fill the beds and hedges around the yard. There’s a heaviness in the air this week – a humidity we don’t usually experience here – thanks to some heavy rain several days ago. Even the nights feel warm and sticky. It smells like wet earth and things growing and all the little bits of summer that we forget so quickly when the wind shifts at the end of the season.

For now though, we relish the heat of the sun and the green of the landscape and the hum of the creatures that fill our summer soundtrack. We’re ready for another kind of learning, the kind that teaches us how to live together and love each other well when there isn’t the same set routine or responsibilities of the school year to occupy our time.

It’s not that I don’t have things that need to get done in the next couple of months. There is no shortage of household projects and preparations and to-do lists, but I know that we need to make room for true rest in all its beautiful forms.

Perhaps that’s why I am a firm believer in the gift of a boring summer. Although we do maintain some expectations of household chores and sibling time throughout these wild and free summer days, I choose a slower pace for these summer vacation days. There is space in the schedule to lay down on the grass and look at the clouds. Play the entirety of a Phase 10 card game (that means all 10 phases!). To plan and execute a three-day campout in the backyard. Spontaneously get together with friends who happen to be in town for the day. Shop for and cook dinner over a fire we took the time to build. Say yes to an impromptu ice cream invite. To read aloud together. To grab the binoculars and check out that cool bird. To drive out of town for the day and explore a new place.

To just be.

I walked into two different stores this week and saw autumn-themed decorations – and immediately closed my eyes and put out my hand with a firm, “No”. Not ready for that, thank you very much. How about popsicles for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and watermelon all day long! Sprinklers and water fights and pop-ins at the pool. Epic thunderstorms with awe-inducing lightning bolts and bubbling clouds that make your heart beat just a little bit faster.

The reality of the passage of time is always pressing down on me. I see all the changes happening before my very eyes – in my own reflection in the mirror, in my kids, in our family dynamics. I’m thankful for all the moments we have together, even the ones that feel a lot more like storm clouds and thorns than sunshine and roses. Change has never been my forte, and the looming uncertainties of the future are casting their shadows on my current season of life, but I am setting my heart on the One who never changes!

Psalm 91:1-2

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
    will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
    my God, in whom I trust.”

Image: Stocksnap

A Thousand Little Moments

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“You want to work on this with me, Mom?” 

The invite came from my eldest, last Saturday after breakfast. 

A partially finished puzzle of Jane Austen quotes was laid out on the folding table in the living room. The older two girls had begun it earlier in the week and day after day it stared up at us, patiently waiting to be completed. I’d been intending to sit down and work on it with them at some point in the week, but of course life kept popping in with its more pressing demands.

My mind scanned the list of things on the to-do list. “Puzzle” was not on it. And yet… 

“Sure, let’s see how far we can get,” I agreed as I took my post and slowly began to piece the quotes together, paying close attention to fonts and colours and patterns. I felt a little lost as I tried to make sense of parts of letters and segments of words that could have come from any one of the several quotes on the reference image. It was painfully slow but we made a little bit of headway before other tasks drew us from the table, leaving some sections complete, others partially finished, none connected to the rest. I was a little disappointed, to be honest. I thought we’d get farther in the time we spent on it.

Maybe that’s why I was so surprised when I returned from an errand later that day to discover the puzzle was nearly complete.

“Wow! This looks amazing!” I exclaimed. “How did you finish it so fast?”

“Well actually most of it was done. We just needed to connect the parts together,” my daughter answered as she placed the final few pieces into the puzzle with satisfaction.

Just needed to connect the parts together. The words echoed in my mind. How often have I felt like I just needed to see the whole picture so I could make those seamless connections between the parts of my life that feel like they’re never going to come together and the ones that are looking pretty good from my vantage point. Most of the time, I simply don’t see how it’s all going to work out until long after it’s over and I gain some distance and perspective.

I am learning to trust that the Lord is always at work. And as I get older, I am spending less time trying to predict where things fit and more time marvelling at the finished product, most often absolutely stunned and surprised by the goodness and faithfulness of a God who is always mysteriously at work, bringing beauty from ashes in one way or another.

What an amazing thing! A puzzle goes from one thousand individual little pieces to one exquisite, unified image: an ever-present but very ordinary reminder that the Lord is working a thousand little moments together to bring about something beautiful in my own life. Even when I can’t possibly imagine how the pieces fit, they always do. 

Thanks be to God.

Ephesians 3:16-21

I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.  Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

Image: mine

Not Finished

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The sun is setting much later these days. We find ourselves enjoying dinner in the glow of the sunset instead of the silvery moonlight. They say we’ve made it through the darkest weeks of the year, and it’s noticeable. 

Darkness comes after dinner now, and these winter evenings, although they are gradually growing shorter, bring such delight as we try to spot the parade of planets, recognizable constellations and the familiar phases of the moon.

It never gets old to me.

January has been mostly warm with days of temperatures far above normal, and sunrises and sunsets painting the skies with the most incredible rose-gold and lavender hues. The hollyhocks got confused and mistook the mild conditions for the month of March, their leaves poking up out of the ground in the warm winds and sunshine. But of course, it’s January. We know winter is not finished with us yet. The whiplash weather patterns used to bother me, but after so many years I’ve begun to look forward to the relief of a spring-like day in the dead of winter.

Last night, the snow and cold returned, as we knew it would. A heavy sigh escaped my lips. I really despise winter driving conditions, and the cold makes everything just that much more difficult. I ran through all our weekend plans in my mind, making a checklist of all the ways the ice and snow would complicate things.

This morning, shrieks of delight took me by surprise as they filled the house. “SNOW! GUYS! IT SNOWED! FINALLY!”

I didn’t realize just how much the kids were missing the classic winter weather that bring us out into white, open spaces to sled and skate, and make hot chocolate taste simply divine.

Perspective is everything, isn’t it?

I saw bothersome inconvenience I’d been dreading; they saw fantastic opportunity they’d been awaiting.

No matter what weighs on our hearts today, we have a choice: we can be ruled by the fear of the unknown, embittered by the loss of things that once were, filled with anger at the things we cannot change.

Or we can choose the life-giving perspective of worship and praise of the One who holds the future, the One from whom all blessings flow, the One who can be trusted to bring beauty from ashes. 

Lord Jesus, please change my perspective!

Psalm 121:1-2 (NIV)

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

Image: mine

Marking the Moments

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October is winding down, ushering the darkness and chill of the in-between season. Bare branches and brisk north wind are setting the stage for a snow white world, although not quite yet. The freshness of the freezing weather feels extra cold at this time of the year, not to mention the adjustment to the slower pace of getting where we need to go.

Pulling on jackets and boots. Finding hats and mittens. Scraping frost and brushing off snow. Warming up the vehicle. Navigating slick roads. It’s the great re-learning of how to manage our time. A reset, of sorts, though not unwelcome. November used to be my least favourite month for all its inky black evenings and bitter cold mornings, but in the past few years I’ve discovered the joy of early stargazing and skywatching, the delight of a flickering candle to light a long evening, and the return of some of our favourite cold weather fun.

I’ve said it many times before: there is beauty in every season. And although November tends to feel like a bump on the way to the season of Advent and Christmas celebration, I refuse to waste even these moments. 

Lord, give me the wisdom I need to live out your love this month, even when the darkness and cold threaten to cover me. Help me make the most of what’s before me, counting my blessings over and over again until they are deeply woven into the fabric of my heart.

This week we gathered around Psalm 27, with its amazing reminders of God’s presence in our family life. We have nothing to fear as we seek His face and see His goodness in the land of the living.

The Lord is my light and my salvation—
    whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life—
    of whom shall I be afraid?

When the wicked advance against me
    to devour me,
it is my enemies and my foes
    who will stumble and fall.

Though an army besiege me,
    my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
    even then I will be confident.

One thing I ask from the Lord,
    this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
    all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord
    and to seek him in his temple.

For in the day of trouble
    he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent
    and set me high upon a rock.

Then my head will be exalted
    above the enemies who surround me;
at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy;
    I will sing and make music to the Lord.

Hear my voice when I call, Lord;
    be merciful to me and answer me.

My heart says of you, “Seek his face!”
    Your face, Lord, I will seek.

Do not hide your face from me,
    do not turn your servant away in anger;
    you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
    God my Savior.

Though my father and mother forsake me,
    the Lord will receive me.

Teach me your way, Lord;
    lead me in a straight path
    because of my oppressors.

Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,
    for false witnesses rise up against me,
    spouting malicious accusations.

I remain confident of this:
    I will see the goodness of the Lord
    in the land of the living.

Wait for the Lord;
    be strong and take heart
    and wait for the Lord.

Psalm 27 (NIV)

The northern lights made an appearance this month. Amazing! (Image: mine)

Remember Again

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Sunsets on the beach. Ice cream cones. Milestone celebrations. Long drives, late nights, lazy mornings, laughs with friends and family, moments of rest in beautiful places… this summer has been filled with so many gifts to our family. After a particularly difficult year navigating the channels of grief, we have felt the warmth of God’s mercies in so many places. 

My mom calls them “bouquets from the Lord” — things throughout the course of the day that draw your attention to God’s goodness and care for you and yours. Coincidences that, in hindsight, seem to be more than just happenstance.

I need to take the time to remember, because I can be a forgetful person. It’s a human thing, I guess. A stormy season can erase memories with monstrous waves that threaten to wash us out to sea. We become fearful that God really isn’t who He says He is, and we forget the things He has done in the past.

“Don’t you care if we drown?”

Our hearts begin to echo the disciples’ question of Jesus in Mark 4:38. In the moment of our peril, we cry out to Him and wonder if He sees, knows, cares. But more than that, can He really save?

“He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’ Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples, ‘Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?’” 

(Mark 4:39-40 NIV)

Yes, He can save. And yes, He does. Time and time again, I pray that He would help me remember the end of this story. The One who commands the winds and the waves does the same in me, and I don’t have to look too far to see Him working in and through my life. What a bouquet from the Lord! He is worthy of our praise! And He is full of mercy, caring for us in all seasons.

I will remember the deeds of the Lord;
yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.
I will consider all your works
and meditate on all your mighty deeds.

(Psalm 77:11-12)

Image: Stocksnap

Tossing and Turning

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One night last week, I tossed and turned for hours. I’m usually down for good within moments of my head hitting the pillow, so this felt like a strange new world.

Could have been the impossible heat; could have been the looming what-ifs pressing down on me. Thoughts darted across my mind, the kind that don’t make a whole lot of sense by the light of day but seem highly plausible at 3am. 

Why am I awake? I wondered. Was I feeling okay? My arms ached immensely from the Saskatoon berry harvest the day before, but other than that I felt fine. I refused to look at the clock, a little trick I learned to help keep myself relaxed, but when the early birds began their song I became concerned. How long has it been? I wondered. My heartbeat quickened. Felt like forever.

I’ve learned over the years of raising my babies that counting the hours until rising time isn’t helpful, so I laid still in the dim, early morning light with eyes closed, hoping sleep might settle over me before I was out of time. What a lovely Sunday afternoon nap on the beach, I told myself, using my imagination to lull myself into a state of relaxation, hoping the remaining moments of sleep would materialize quickly.

I must have finally dozed off eventually, because the next thing I remember is the guitar strum of “Carolina in My Mind” by James Taylor, pulling me into a new day with all its demands. The day was marked a general sense of tiredness, but considering the night I had, it wasn’t too bad. When bedtime came back around, though, I was gripped with a sense of dread. What if I can’t sleep again? I thought. Lord, help me sleep! 

I slept soundly and awoke with a profoundly grateful heart and an effervescent outlook in the morning.

These days it’s not tiny babies keeping me awake, but tiny fears of what might be, or worse, what might not be. My daily burdens become too heavy for me, waking me up in the dead of night, growing in the silence of the house, tapping on my heart in the darkness.

I’m learning that I wasn’t meant to carry these. In fact, it’s essential to learn how to roll my burdens onto Jesus each day. So every morning I open my eyes and learn how to let go all over again. 

A couple of mornings ago, my feet hit the floor with a temptation to carry my own burdens once again. Then, a verse I memorized as a child floated into my mind, softly, gently and with great timing:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 4:6-7 (NIV)

Thank you Lord for daily bearing my burdens. Thank you for your loving care. Thank you for your peace, guarding my heart and my mind today.

Image: Stocksnap

Thankful

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That little sunflower, the one from April that nearly drowned after my earnest 7 year old cared a little too much for it, is three feet tall now.

It stands guard at our front window, watching the sun cross the sky from morning ’til night, a stalwart reminder of resilience in the face of trials of too much water, not enough water, hungry critters, heat that rivalled the desert, and now the kiss of frost.

I’ve often said that I don’t garden because I’m good at it; I garden because it teaches me things. Every year I marvel at the wonders the Lord brings out of my feeble efforts to grow beautiful and delicious things. I’m slowly realizing that it really isn’t me that’s doing the work. Some plants that I thought would thrive have long since shrivelled up, and the ones that I had little hope for are still blooming in Technicolor as the last few weeks of summer fade into the glory of fall.

We are not self-made. Each of us is a garden of hopes and dreams, where ones we think will thrive die off and ones that were planted without a thought grow tall and strong and beautiful, surprising us with a fragrance of life that fills our senses and thrills us beyond measure. God’s goodness is truly astounding!

While roses and sunflowers bloom and carrots and beets sweeten in the frosty night air, the golden and amber paintbrush of fall begins to touch the edges of the landscape.

Thanksgiving is on the horizon and it’s all too fast for me, to be honest. That’s usually when the initial waves of cold and flu season are slamming our home, school and fall commitments are ramping up and the urgency of the final days of warm weather pull us outside as often as possible. Nearly a decade ago I began a tradition of Three Weeks of Thanks, where we spend the three weeks before Thanksgiving intentionally focussing on gratitude and preparing our hearts. In years past, we’ve done handprint leaves out of construction paper with the things we’re thankful written on them. They go up on the wall under a “tree” of sorts, as if they’re gently whirling to the ground. I already know what mine will say.

Our eldest is a pre-teen. Our youngest is off to kindergarten this year. And the in-betweeners are in the thick of elementary-age experiences. No longer are the wee hours of the morning fraught with spills and potty accidents, nor are the evenings quiet with kids in bed early. It’s easy to write a blog when your kids are little; the material writes itself! There are so many adorable moments and I’m glad I’ve recorded some, but as they get older, the stories are shifting. My children are becoming their own people and I’m learning so much about them and myself as we grow together.

That means this space is shifting too. Gone are the days of a young mama sharing about sleepless nights and applesauce smears, here are the days of a late-thirties mom of four learning to trust the One who made these sweet ones to take care of them in the way that only He can.

For this journey, I am thankful.

Thank You Jesus for these hopes and dreams that are thriving right in front of me. I am fully aware that these aren’t by my hand but Yours. You are the Master Gardener, and I’m living proof that Your plans are far better than mine ever were.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created.” James 1:17-18 NIV

Image: Stocksnap

Remember

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A mama house sparrow hops around our front lawn, looking for a bite to eat in the sunshine. Everything is alive now, with dandelions, saskatoons, apples and irises in bloom. Ants carry on, bees bumble from sweet flower to sweet flower, sparrows and chickadees flit here and there, robins diligently care for their broods. The hawks are back too, solitary hunters soaring and diving to fill their bellies.

Let heaven and nature sing!

In becoming what I like to call Noticers, we’ve caught breathtaking glimpses of our magnificent, carefully designed world right in our own backyard. I’m amazed at how many times I hear, “Mom! You’ve got to see this!”, an invitation to hurry out the back door to observe the shape of a spiderweb or quietly tiptoe across the deck to spy a house finch among the leaves.

For years I’ve thought that I was just one of those people who didn’t like change. We have this vintage book about opposites where the characters go to the circus and at the very end two of them are heading home. One says, “I’m sad that it’s over” and another one says, “I’m glad that it happened”. Guess which one I tend to be! I’m the one who sheds a few tears at the end of the Beatles Anthology every single time, even though we know from history how that story ends. It occurred to me this week though, that it’s not change itself I dislike but its hallmark sense of loss.

I find the slow rhythm of the seasons steadies me. Give me the first robin, the first handful of Saskatoon berries, the first pop of fall colour, the first blanket of snow and I feel confident in what lies ahead. These changes I welcome, although they’re bittersweet. New milestones, adventures and plans are exciting, but a sudden illness, unplanned large expense or unwelcome news can throw me for a solid loop unless I pause to remember not only who God is but also what He has done in the past.

This week I came across Psalm 116:1-7 — 

I love the Lord, for he heard my voice;
    he heard my cry for mercy.
Because he turned his ear to me,
    I will call on him as long as I live.

The cords of death entangled me,
    the anguish of the grave came over me;
    I was overcome by distress and sorrow.
Then I called on the name of the Lord:
    “Lord, save me!”

The Lord is gracious and righteous;
    our God is full of compassion. 
The Lord protects the unwary;
    when I was brought low, he saved me.

Return to your rest, my soul,
    for the Lord has been good to you.

Amen. Praise the Lord. He is good to me, even when my plans go awry, when interruptions come, when my energy is drained and I have little left in the tank. Even when the mundane is, well, mundane. Even when the day feels like an uphill climb or the pace of life is dizzying. Even when we have to say goodbye, and change brings its unmistakeable sense of loss.

Maybe, especially then.

What shall I return to the Lord
    for all his goodness to me?

I will lift up the cup of salvation
    and call on the name of the Lord.
I will fulfill my vows to the Lord
    in the presence of all his people.

(Psalm 116:12-14)

The foreshadowing of a fruitful year for our Saskatoon. (image: mine)