It’s so hard to say goodbye to our carefree summer days, and this late season heatwave is not making it any easier! After weeks of temperamental and wet conditions, we’ve finally had some brilliant beach weather — just in time for our fall routine to kick in.
Sigh.
I’ll admit, September to-do lists are bringing me down these days. With more tasks than hours in the day, and extras bubbling up that weren’t even ON the list in the first place, I feel like I’m white-knuckling it through the rapids and praying I pop up on the other side in calmer waters!
Bad timing, that’s for sure. We would have loved this weather several weeks ago when the school year preparations were far from our minds, but better late than never, they say. So we’re thankful for the time we’ve had in the past several days to enjoy the heat, and we’re thankful for the soft launch of our school year in the week ahead, with lots of time outside as we shift into formal learning mode.
Praise the Lord that HE is our strength!
These days, I begin with a four-word prayer: Lord, make a way.
He knows what needs to happen today. He knows what can wait. I can trust His wisdom and strength to lead me through the seasons that feel like they’re bursting at the seams with decisions, opportunities and activity. And I can trust that He will take care of the things that I choose to say, “not right now” to.
2 Corinthians 12:9-10 comes to mind:
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
Amen! Let’s walk into the next season, a second new year of sorts, with a fresh faith that the Lord is making a way for the things HE has for us. His power is make perfect in weakness. We don’t have to have it all together – because He does.
It has been uncharacteristically wet this month, with more than twice the amount of rainfall than average and barely a dry day to tackle the jungle taking over the backyard. Summer heat has mostly eluded us, with at least one frost warning and images of snowfall in the higher elevations of nearby mountain parks. Day after day we’ve traded sunshine and slip-n-slides for puddle-jumping and umbrellas.
It has given way to a green countryside we don’t often get to see in July! By this time of the year our landscape is usually taking on a dull, yellow-brown hue and my plants have all but given up trying to survive bouts of heat and hail. While the rainy summer has been lovely for the imagination, local waterfowl and the veggie garden, it has been hard on the hopes we had for long stretches of hot weather full of deck-lounging, lake fun, pool pop-ins, family water fights and late picnics in beautiful places.
Until this week.
An angel chorus burst into song in my heart when the first rays of actual sunshine broke through the violet haze of dawn. And in the forecast for the first time in weeks, no threat of rain! Just summer perfection as the radiant, glorious sun dazzled against a bluebird backdrop. As if on cue, the breeze picked up slightly, just enough to keep the heat in hand and the bugs at bay. Unexpected towers of angry marshmallow clouds bubbled up in the distance but then — poof! — dissipated into flat, thin, wispy-edged, white nothings floating steadily across the horizon.
We’ve already forgotten the chill we’ve been under and have fully embraced the heatwave. And it’s wonderful! Perhaps the rain will return, and for more days than we’d like, but for now we’re basking in the blessing of the sunshine.
I’ve been reading through the book of Psalms and it seems to me that many of the Psalms are just like the weather pattern we’ve been experiencing recently: cold misery followed by radiant joy. “How long O Lord?”, followed by “Praise the Lord O my soul!” in the very same Psalm! In the middle of the pain and sadness, honestly acknowledging the difficulty, crying out to the Lord for help and salvation and remembering His faithfulness in days past, then finding that He is faithful, bursting into shouts of praise for His goodness to His people.
Psalm 145 (NIV)
I will exalt you, my God the King; I will praise your name for ever and ever.
Every day I will praise you and extol your name for ever and ever.
Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom.
One generation commends your works to another; they tell of your mighty acts.
They speak of the glorious splendor of your majesty— and I will meditate on your wonderful works.
They tell of the power of your awesome works— and I will proclaim your great deeds.
They celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness.
The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love.
The Lord is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made.
All your works praise you, Lord; your faithful people extol you.
They tell of the glory of your kingdom and speak of your might,
so that all people may know of your mighty acts and the glorious splendor of your kingdom.
Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and your dominion endures through all generations.
The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises and faithful in all he does.
The Lord upholds all who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down.
The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food at the proper time.
You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.
The Lord is righteous in all his ways and faithful in all he does.
The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.
He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them.
The Lord watches over all who love him, but all the wicked he will destroy.
My mouth will speak in praise of the Lord. Let every creature praise his holy name for ever and ever.
I love how the cycles of nature and seasons of the year point us right back to the goodness and faithfulness of the One who made it all! Echoes of His resurrection power ring through all creation with the sunshine after the rain, spring after winter, streams in the desert, fireweed after the wildfire. And don’t we desperately need the reminder to keep us focussed on Him in the face of unforeseen realities! Through it all, our eyes are on the Only One who truly saves, who is near to all who call on Him in truth, who watches over all who love Him.
What an incredible blessing to know that we are never alone!
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John 1:14 NIV)
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.”
This week marks the first anniversary of the sudden and unexpected loss of my father-in-law.
Twelve months of firsts. Twelve months that haven’t gone exactly as planned. Twelve months of shuffling, adjusting, making space for a new reality. Twelve months that have brought moments of pure grief, pure joy and everything in between.
And a new awareness: twelve months of the faithfulness of God in dark, unfamiliar places.
For the Lord is good And His love endures forever His faithfulness continues to all generations. (Psalm 100:5)
Yes, Lord, You are faithful.
As our family moves into the fullness of the sweet summer months, we are experiencing the goodness of the Lord in a thousand little ways, in a thousand little places. And while we intentionally remember what He has done, we recognize there are many things we don’t understand. Living in the tension between the two, our hearts are tuned to His love and care.
Even in the gift of a fresh, late June morning, thick with humidity, at least as much this arid city will allow. More than we’re used to, anyway. Lilacs and roses soak the air with heavy, sweet fragrance as bees bumble from bloom to bloom.
Summer is fleeting in this part of the world, so we tend to make the most of the warmth and sunshine while we have it. Responsibilities give way to relaxation, but we’re learning from the story of the Grasshopper and the Ants! Committing to completing the tasks on the to-do list feels like a sacrifice when we know that before long, autumn will appear for a big colorful show, ushering in our regular tasks and routines.
The weaving together of work and play is an art! Striking that beautiful balance of completing some big jobs and kicking up our heels for some fun seems to be the challenge of these short summer months. I am praying for the strength to do the hard things and the wisdom to make space for the best things.
I watch my friends and family as their birds leave the nest, knowing that our time is coming. We’re not quite there but we know that soon we’ll be into the “everyone doing their own thing” season of life. We’re catching glimpses of it. The inevitable shift is in motion, and it’s all brand new. I feel like a first-time mom all over again – but this time instead of bouncing a sweet babe on my hip, I’m juggling social plans and big emotions. I’m relearning many things as my role moves from teacher and trainer to coach and cheerleader.
Amid the shifts in family dynamics, the gravity of the passing of time grounds me. I am fully aware that we have just a few years left before our own birds start spreading their wings and heading out.
Lord, stamp eternity into my eyes. Help me not to waste the difficult moments. Help me to trust that You know all things, and in Your time You make all things beautiful.
These past twelve months have driven me even deeper into the perfect love of God. I have discovered that no matter where the road leads, no matter what season we are in, He is good. He is a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in Him! (Nahum 1:7). It is only by His grace that I wake each morning, ready for what the new day holds. And by His grace, I can confidently say: Praise be to the Lord, to God our Saviour, who daily bears our burdens (Psalm 68:19).
Golden shades of autumn kiss green treetops as we sail down the open road.
A last-minute weekend away took us through the hot, dry prairies and up into craggy mountains and lush valleys, along turquoise lakes, bubbling creeks and shady, tree-lined highways.
At night, the frogs and crickets sang with the sound of the river running far down below. In the morning, the bees began their busy work flitting from flower to flower and squirrels chattered in branches high above.
So much beauty in such a short time.
Isn’t summer just like that? Maybe life is too, in some ways. Raising four littles, I’ve often heard the saying, “The days are long but the years are short”. No kidding. Heading into a new school year with these four, I can see that we’re well into the next season of life. Cute sayings and silly happenings, spills and fights, laughter and tears — they happen differently now than they used to, and that’s okay.
We find ourselves entering the dance with big kids and young teenagers. I’m learning as I go, and sometimes it feels like I’m flying blind. More often than I’d like to admit, I’m clumsy and don’t always get the steps right but praise the Lord for His grace in each moment as I learn the lifelong lesson of letting go.
Shades of autumn will give way to the silvery touch of winter. I can see the edges of it in my eyes and in my hair. What will become of the home we once had? What will become of the relationships forged in the fires of this family? Will they grow together or apart? Will they remain deeply rooted and established in the love of Christ? Or will they forget their first love after all?
As we begin a new school year, my prayers are going far beyond friends and schoolwork to the growing-up of these young people God has placed within our care. So many things in life are beyond my control, but I know the One who holds it all together, so I turn to Him with my heart’s cry:
Lord, in Your mercy, hear my prayer.
Tend to my sweet children today. Protect them in every way. Remind them of Your deep love for them. Draw them in to take hold of life’s true treasure, and cover them with Your grace. Give them courage and wisdom as they learn from their own mistakes and the mistakes of others. Open their ears to good counsel, and help them discern the lies that entangle. May they find their strength in You. Jesus, be near each one today. Bless them and keep them, make Your face shine upon them and be gracious to them. Lord, give them peace. Help me to love them well, the way You have loved me. And when suffering comes, remind them of who You are, and who they are because of You.
The zinnias are coming up and the sunflowers are standing at attention. Blush pink, bright red and orange-yellow roses are in bloom. We’ve enjoyed more than a few handfuls of Saskatoons and our sweet little strawberry plants have given us about three beautiful ripe berries altogether this summer. They’ve found refuge from hungry birds under the shade of the hollyhocks, which is probably why we’ve found any at all! Deep purple pansies nod their heads in the wind, grateful for the bit of sunshine cast their way for part of the afternoon.
We’ve had more rain this July than in years past so things are still looking quite well but the long, dry, hot days of summer are upon us and soon shades of yellow and brown will fill the horizon.
The dust is settling in our world, but not the way we had hoped. May and June surprised us with some deeply sad and extremely hard things, and now we are left with the pieces that remain.
“Dear Lord, thank you for today. Thank you for this food. And please help us because we don’t have a grandpa anymore. Amen.”
Our six year old son prays this daily as we gather around our old dining set. We are wading through the thick reeds of grief and loss, but like catching a glimpse of a stunning marsh bird in flight, or hearing its song, our experience has been peppered with the heart-lifting joy of a child’s perspective.
What a gift.
Tomorrow would have been my father-in-law’s 71st birthday. We wanted more time. We planned for more time. We knew the sudden diagnosis meant less time in the long run, but four weeks felt much too fast.
He loved good ice cream.
Tomorrow, we will eat the best of the best, and we will remember.
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”
A temporary relief from the stifling heat of summer is so welcome! Dark clouds hang overhead, yet to give us the treasure within. We’re waiting for the rain to fall after a week of bright blue skies, blazing sunshine and hot, sleepless nights.
Summer is sailing along now, heavy with the scent of life in full bloom. All the things we’ve planted are showing their resilience in the face of hail and heat. Some stand tall regardless of what comes, others are crushed beneath the weight of the elements or become food for critters and birds bent on survival.
Saskatoons are slowly ripening, but the sparrow stole my only strawberry of the year. Though the plants are young and the soil likely needs more nutrients, I have hope that in future years we’ll have more berries. Maybe I’ll expand the patch in a few more years if the plants are doing well.
Amid all the flowers and fruit, our kids are engaged in the very serious business of backyard play. With four between the ages of 5 and 11, there is no shortage of ideas on how to spend the day. Morning ’til night, with short breaks for food and responsibilities, they play. And play. And read. And play. I believe in the gift of a rather boring summer, with loads of space in the schedule to literally do nothing, if that’s what they want to do. Of course, the responsibilities are always an expectation, but otherwise, we aim for a rather carefree summer pace.
I glance outside. The much-needed moisture begins with sprinkles at first and then turns to a steady, gentle rain. The thirsty ground is soaking up the blessing of a long, cool drink. Trees bend in the wind and robins impatiently pull the surfacing worms out of the ground.
The kids wander around for a while before becoming thoroughly soaked and chilly. In the back door they tumble, asking for a late snack, although lunch is nearly ready. It’s our daily reset button, a gathering around an abundant table, filling their hungry bellies and setting them on track for the afternoon ahead.
I don’t want to forget what it was like in this season of life. I am learning to slow down and savour the small, ordinary moments of each day. These scenes are mainly for me, snapshots of what life is like in these good old days, moments captured on paper and in photos, and mostly, in my mama’s heart.
All four kids, home together, more of a gift than I can fully appreciate, I’m sure. That old cliche rings true: “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone.”
“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom…. Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.”
Psalm 90:12, 14 (NIV)
The pansies are doing alright this year. Grateful.
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)
Last year we had only a handful in total, but after thinning out the oldest branches early in the season, our single bush seems to have survived the relentless heat and is bursting forth with berries. We’ve been checking back morning and evening to see which ones have ripened enough for picking and eating. I’ve taught the kids which to take and which to leave a little longer as we work together to fill a small container, give it a rinse and enjoy.
Each year without fail, whether a little or a lot, this bush bears fruit. Mid-July comes along and we get to see how much will actually be harvested, and how much will be enjoyed by the birds that call our neighbourhood home. Some years we end up with enough to make a little jam, but most years it’s just enough for a taste.
Our little apple tree, on the other hand, hasn’t been so faithful a fruit-bearer but we haven’t quite been ready to give up on it. It came to us second-hand, wind-whipped, then heavy-laden with an unexpected snowfall just three days after being planted in the yard. I pruned that one a little too much one year and it has taken nearly four years of patient watering and feeding but, with great joy, we have counted a dozen or more little apples on its branches ripening in the sunshine. I’ve marvelled more than once this year at its resilience, carefully watching to be sure the birds haven’t helped themselves to the precious few that cling to its branches.
One had a great start, planted young in good soil and watched over all along. The other was a transplant, overcoming imperfect conditions and care to bring forth fruit in its season.
I can’t imagine a greater picture of God’s loving care for each one of us as we remain in Him. And I’m amazed that it’s right in my own back yard!
Makes me think of Jesus’ words in John 15:1-8 (NIV) —
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.”
Regardless of how you got your start, stay faithful to Jesus and let Him bear His fruit in your life!
Lord, help me to live this day by the truth of Your Word, not by how I feel right now!
This was my bleary-eyed, early morning prayer after I was jolted out of bed, not by the happy singsong greetings of a shiny-eyed, cherub-cheeked preschooler but by the angry edicts of a grumpy, pint-sized dictator. I did not feel particularly ready to greet the day in that moment. In fact, you could say I was on the verge of an internal temper tantrum of my own. My irritability revealed to me that perhaps I too need more sleep after last week’s intense heat wave and rather quick pace. The rain and cooler temperatures have ushered in better sleeping conditions which will hopefully mean better moods as the days roll on, but for today we’re still catching up. The heat and summer fun is all too much when you haven’t slept well for many days in a row.
Working through the morning crabbiness, I began to tackle the long list of things that will make our home liveable once again. When you spend the week with the blinds closed to keep the heat out, living mostly in the open air of the backyard where the slight but hot breeze is blowing, you can’t really see the growing mountain of things inside that may need some attention. Today we find ourselves exhaling, working on home things and resetting for the week ahead. As I build in these rhythms of rest into our life and embrace the quiet, I experience the grace of God in ways I tend to miss when I am moving at the speed of light.
Dirty dishes mean good food. Dirty laundry means great memories. Dirty floors mean a place to call home. I am not immune to deep grief and heartbreaking realities, but I also know that joy and sorrow are not independent of one other. Even in the middle of difficult things, I find myself experiencing moments that fill my heart with in praise of the Lord. His goodness and mercy are unending. Early this morning as I was chipping away at the to-do list, these ancient words bubbled up in me and became my song:
I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. -Psalm 27:13 (NIV)
It struck me that this particular moment was a direct answer to my prayer to live this day in the light of God’s truth, not by my crotchety attitude. I know He reveals Himself in unexpected places, like discovering a sparkling gem in a pile of dusty old river rocks. You may not see it immediately, but upon further inspection you realize that what you are holding in your hands is precious. In my life, God has met me while I rocked my babies in the middle of the night and care for them through their childhood illnesses. He has met me on my way into the grocery store. Over broken dishes, weed-filled gardens and vehicle breakdowns. Through bread on the doorstep, text messages, phone calls and unexpected visits.
He knows our needs. He hears our prayers. He is good.
Even a regular day reveals His glory. To be completely honest, it has taken me many hours to finish writing this short post due to constant questions, conflicts, caring for the needs of littles and listening to the ones who need listening to. If I had shut myself in a room to wax poetic about the goodness of God in the middle of the ordinary, the power of this truth would have been lost on me today: His goodness knows no bounds.
With Stephanie Nicole 