I am packing again. I pack, Jordan hauls. It's a perfect strategy!
These past few months we have been living with friends who have gifted us with their basement suite! What a massive blessing.
Now we are getting ready to say goodbye to them and so many others in Three Hills whom we love. Our car is going to be loaded down with 3 guitars, loads of scrap booking materials, a box of books and all of my clothes (still unsure how that is going to happen) and we are driving the 40 hours to Belleville Ontario!
It's a good thing we like being together.
God is teaching us how to jump off a cliff and trust Him to land us. Do I hear an amen? Nothing new...just walking with Jesus.
This past year we have been taking steps towards living in Germany. A place we believe He has called us to. Black Forest Academy is a boarding school for Missionary kids (Here is the link if you're interested in more info! http://bfacademy.com/).
Last April I was reading a book called "Too Small to Ignore" by Wes Stafford, the then President of Compassion International. He was a missionary kid in Africa and was sent to boarding school far away from his parents. Atrocious things went on in that school in the name of Christ. The kids were abused and sexually violated. I read aloud to Jordan some of the worst parts and broke down weeping, too overcome to continue.
God started to speak to our hearts. I remember thinking, "God, may we be people who protect and love children, show us how to bring hope to kids like these. "
Black Forest Academy started to enter our life. It happened randomly, again, and again, and again. Jordan was in a wedding and a bridesmaid was from Germany, so I asked her where, she told me "Have you heard of BFA? I live in that town." I remember going cold and hot all over.
A friend started to tell me of her journey as a missionary kid and without knowing we were thinking of BFA, told me how much impact the Dorm Parents make in the life of a student. She said they are the difference between a good and bad school year.
I could almost hear God saying "Is that enough, or should I give you more hints?"
We sat beside each other on the couch last summer, filling out the application to be RA's in a dorm at BFA, counted down and hit the send button's. Then we stared open eyed at each other, wondering what this would mean.
It would mean leaving Trochu. It would mean not knowing where we were going to live next. It would mean months of wondering and panicking and doubting and being flexible (I'm not so good at that). It would mean praying, long and hard. It would mean the image of the white picket fence in suburbia would be demolished and the 150 year old dorm of high school boys in the mountains of Germany erected.
Whoa.
God knows the plans He has for us.
Over the next four months we will be fund raising. I like to call it humble raising. We have a very short time to find the money we will need to get to Germany. For some, 1 year is not enough to fund raise. Others, 6 months is not enough. For us, we are trusting God to bring in the needed funds in 2 weeks.
That's all we have. If we are on that plane to Germany in August, it will only be by the hand of God.
"For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and who says to you, "Do not fear, I will help you." Isaiah 41:13
Right now we are placing one foot in front of the other and going down the path we believe God has put us on. Please, please pray for us and if God has placed it on your heart to help us financially, contact us by facebook or email- jordanlovesrachael@gmail.com.
I'll keep you all updated on this crazy adventure!
Sunday, 14 April 2013
Thursday, 29 November 2012
God Never Will
"For I am the LORD your God who takes hold of your right hand and who says to you, 'Do not fear, I will help you.'" -Isaiah 41:13
Love comes with a price. As C.S. Lewis said so well-
“There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.” From "The Four Loves"
Yesterday I packed the first two boxes. I have been packing in my mind since August, not because I'm desperate to leave, but simply because I love packing. Yesterday I finally allowed myself to begin! We don't have a place to live in Three Hills yet, we don't even have a confirmed job for next year, but I am so excited to trust God. I know that He will come through for us in ways we could never imagaine.
Part of me is thrilled for this move, yet part of me is full of dread. Moving means leaving my girls. I have come to love and adore my girls. Both in Junior High and High School. They light up my week on Tuesday, Friday and Sunday nights and usually in between.
I just finished reading a chapter of the book "Amy Carmichael". For those who don't know that name I would highly recommend looking her up. For any of my girls reading this, you might remember me talking about her last year during Bible Study. She was a missionary in India in the early 1900's. She saved hundreds of Indian girls and this story is about one of them.
Only God knows the number of tears and cries and "Do I have to leave them Lord?"s that have pierced His ears. He knows. Months ago He answered by informing me that 'He didn't need me." Umm...what? Well that came as a shock, God, not needing me. Imagine.
He also put a face in my mind of my dear friend and I knew that He was telling me not to worry, that she would continue to love my girls and carry on the ministry. (I'll never forget how large her eyes became when I informed her of that!)
When I read that story of Amy and Arulai tonight, that statment of Amy's became my own. "He has marked this child as His." I pray that this world will have no hold on my girls because they are HIS. I pray that evil men will not be able to touch them because they are HIS. I pray that wherever these precious girls go they will know that THEY ARE HIS and He has marked them as His own.
The only reason I am able to leave them is because He never will.
My heart breaks with the knowledge that my time with these girls has a completion. I chose to not 'keep my heart safe' and for that I am vulnerable. Praise God!
So girls, know that I have you always in my heart and prayers. We still have till August together, so don't worry, you'll grow tired of me by then. If I had one thing to tell you from all of this, it would be that people, animals and possessions will leave you, God never will.
Love comes with a price. As C.S. Lewis said so well-
“There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.” From "The Four Loves"
Yesterday I packed the first two boxes. I have been packing in my mind since August, not because I'm desperate to leave, but simply because I love packing. Yesterday I finally allowed myself to begin! We don't have a place to live in Three Hills yet, we don't even have a confirmed job for next year, but I am so excited to trust God. I know that He will come through for us in ways we could never imagaine.
Part of me is thrilled for this move, yet part of me is full of dread. Moving means leaving my girls. I have come to love and adore my girls. Both in Junior High and High School. They light up my week on Tuesday, Friday and Sunday nights and usually in between.
I just finished reading a chapter of the book "Amy Carmichael". For those who don't know that name I would highly recommend looking her up. For any of my girls reading this, you might remember me talking about her last year during Bible Study. She was a missionary in India in the early 1900's. She saved hundreds of Indian girls and this story is about one of them.
Arulai was a girl of eleven when she came to Amy to be taught about the Bible. Arulai's
father was pressured by relatives to forbid his daughter to go to Amy but he was tolerant and indifferent to it. Which is astounding considering Arulai's cousin was kept in the attic and tortured for wanting to learn the Bible. Once when Arulai was ill, Any came and nursed her and her father became even more tolerant of this English woman.
One day at Amy's bungalo Amy heard Arulai praying "Don't let me go back to the dark! Please Lord! Oh let me live in the light!"
Amy prayed for that as well.
But one day the Father came to the bungalow looking dejected. he said that Arulia could no longer see Amy. When her father reached his arm out to take her, it fell lifelessly to his side. This phenomenon happened several times.
"What is this? He asked finally. "It is as if my arm is paralyzed."
"It is the one Lord God of Heaven." Amy told him,
"He has marked this child as HIS."
Only God knows the number of tears and cries and "Do I have to leave them Lord?"s that have pierced His ears. He knows. Months ago He answered by informing me that 'He didn't need me." Umm...what? Well that came as a shock, God, not needing me. Imagine.
He also put a face in my mind of my dear friend and I knew that He was telling me not to worry, that she would continue to love my girls and carry on the ministry. (I'll never forget how large her eyes became when I informed her of that!)
When I read that story of Amy and Arulai tonight, that statment of Amy's became my own. "He has marked this child as His." I pray that this world will have no hold on my girls because they are HIS. I pray that evil men will not be able to touch them because they are HIS. I pray that wherever these precious girls go they will know that THEY ARE HIS and He has marked them as His own.
The only reason I am able to leave them is because He never will.
My heart breaks with the knowledge that my time with these girls has a completion. I chose to not 'keep my heart safe' and for that I am vulnerable. Praise God!
So girls, know that I have you always in my heart and prayers. We still have till August together, so don't worry, you'll grow tired of me by then. If I had one thing to tell you from all of this, it would be that people, animals and possessions will leave you, God never will.
Thursday, 15 November 2012
My Year of No Fear
I am about to share a journal entry of mine. Before you start saying "NO DON'T!" while shielding your eyes, just give me a chance. I promise you won't find out anything about me you don't want to know. Most likely...
This journal entry was written while Jordan and I were in Ontario this past summer.
Since I wrote that my life has been rocked to the core. God has shown us another path of ministry to take. Everything about my safe little world is threatened. "Missionaries? Ha ha. Funny God, nice idea. Oh...you're serious? But you know me. You know how unqualified I am."
Since I wrote that I have been presented with so many opportunities to choose fear, or life. I wish I could say I've chosen life every time, but my old nature loves to sneak up on me.
I'm writing this in my comfy little home surrounded by beautiful possessions that I will need to pack up and leave for at least two years. And you know what? I'm thrilled. Even though we have no idea what is next, we are taking active steps in God's direction and trusting HIM with our future. Radical idea hey?
At this moment I am too busy splashing into waves and coming up laughing then to be nervous about a little thing like 'our future' because we gave that to God separately when we were both children, and together, on June 18 2011.
This journal entry was written while Jordan and I were in Ontario this past summer.
July 4th 2012
"Somewhere along the way I lost it. I don't know how or where, I guess it happened in between barbie dolls and puddle jumping to makeup and hair curlers.
But lose it I did, I don't jump in puddles anymore, I tip toe across.
I don't slide belly first in the huge ones to see how far I can go.
I don't plop down in a pile of mud to make pies or throw them at unsuspecting brothers.
I don't even cartwheel anymore because there may be dog poo hiding in the short grass.
I don't even cartwheel anymore because there may be dog poo hiding in the short grass.
I totally lost it.
But today I decided to do something bordering on crazy. It may seem silly and small to most people but considering who I have become I'm surprised that I didn't get an applause.
We went to the lake again today. It was beautiful. The sand was soft as feathers and the breeze was gloriously present. When we arrived I had decided to sit and read the afternoon away, which is what I usually do, so I placed my towel methodically down, making sure no sand encroached on the fabric and sat down. I opened my book and settled in tight.
Everyone else went in the lake and I heroically told them that I would stay behind to protect their belongings. Mom came up a bit later and said "You can go on in now" and I don't know why but I closed the book and looked out toward the splashy four and decided to cancel my plans with my towel and join them.
Out I tip toed, tying my hair-dried ponytail high upon my head so it wouldn't get wet (how annoying is wet hair hey?!). I eventually went up to my neck as I swam toward them on the sand bar.
My sister in law who is part mermaid, was diving into the waves like a...mermaid...and I was jealous of how free she was. She didn't care about hair or sand, but I still consciously held mine above water.
Then it happened. I did it. I don't know why I did it, but somewhere in between throwing the Frisbee and stealing jealous glances at the mermaid while I carefully jumped over every wave, I did something I haven't done in years- I dove under the water. My entire head was submerged in lake water from who knows where with who knows how many bugs and fish twirling around me.
I came up laughing.
I splashed into a wave and dove under another. I let Jordan throw me into the water. I knelt down and allowed the waves to crash over my head.
I felt 8 years old again. I felt free. "I need this" I thought. I need to do the little things that scare me, to get dirty and wet and vulnerable. And then it came to me, I will.
I will allow myself to do all that. My year of no fear.
That doesn't mean I'm going to swim in a shark tank or lie in a bed of snakes, I'm not thinking of searching for the things that scare me most and doing them, but to take every moment as they come.
I'm scared of germs. I'm scared of of getting dirty. I'm scared of being alone. Of pain, of talking about God to unbelievers, of being vulnerable, of failing. I'm scared of shots, of counselling, of showing my husband how burdened and shameful I am. I'm scared of showing people who I am.
God showed me something this afternoon in Lake Ontario. He showed me how much fun I have when I let it all go and LIVE. When I decide that hair will get wet and water will get in my ears but who cares?
He reminded me of who I once was.
I am so ready to start this new dare from God."
Since I wrote that my life has been rocked to the core. God has shown us another path of ministry to take. Everything about my safe little world is threatened. "Missionaries? Ha ha. Funny God, nice idea. Oh...you're serious? But you know me. You know how unqualified I am."
Since I wrote that I have been presented with so many opportunities to choose fear, or life. I wish I could say I've chosen life every time, but my old nature loves to sneak up on me.
I'm writing this in my comfy little home surrounded by beautiful possessions that I will need to pack up and leave for at least two years. And you know what? I'm thrilled. Even though we have no idea what is next, we are taking active steps in God's direction and trusting HIM with our future. Radical idea hey?
At this moment I am too busy splashing into waves and coming up laughing then to be nervous about a little thing like 'our future' because we gave that to God separately when we were both children, and together, on June 18 2011.
Wednesday, 17 October 2012
Do You Remember Me?
There is one night of my life my memory does not live.
For some of you, that is a regular occurrence, I am sorry for that. For me, who only enjoys a Bailey's now and then, I have never experienced a night out of my reach where my memories do not fill.
I remember the horse was brown. I remember two of my Junior High girls riding behind and in front. I remember the night was crisp and I was wearing my new second hand brown sweater. I can see Jordan two horses ahead of me with our new camera snapping pictures of dozens of badlands.
He turned his horse around to bring me his coat and I snuggled in the warmth.
Night was setting in, dusk was enveloping us.
I woke up at 5:00am. I knew something was wrong but my brain had to catch up with my heart. I ached and I groaned. The only word that registered was -horse. I woke Jordan up beside me to ask the same questions I had been asking since 7:30pm but to remember them this time.
He told me I had forgotten him. When I reach back into that night I can see people surrounding me, the girls, my parents, our pastor, the doctor. My Husband was not there. But he was. He never left me. He called my name, answered my questions, held me, wiped my tears, answered the same questions again, told me they would not be 'poking me' at the hospital, carried me to bed and woke me to make sure I was still there.
How can I forget the one who calmed my fears and was my rock?
"Do you remember me?" He asked at 5:00am. I laughed not knowing how real his fear was.
"I remember you."
But my concussion quickly became the least of our worries. I walked around in a daze that week and the next, reeling from heart-pain I still don't know how to handle. Attacked.
I am sore and dizzy two weeks later but the heart-pain that hurts more than my aches remains.
All I can pray these days is "Jesus...the one you love is sick"
That is enough.
I am Mary hearing that Jesus has arrived and leaving the mourners to run to him. Martha and her had sent a note to him days ago with only these words "Lord, the one you love is sick." No other words were needed. Her brother was dying but she did not throw demands at Jesus, telling him exactly what He should do and when.
How often do I tell God I and others are hurting then explain to Him how I think He should help?
Her brother Lazarus died and when Jesus finally came, she got up immediately and ran to him."Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."
These are my words to Jesus-
The two you love are sick. Heart-sick. And Lord, I am helpless. I am angry. I don't know how to make this go away. I used to protect them. I was fierce and relentless, I would have done anything in my power to make their lives easy. To make their lives good. I have battled for them, and lost.
"Do you remember me?" I don't laugh this time as the words come from somewhere within.
For some of you, that is a regular occurrence, I am sorry for that. For me, who only enjoys a Bailey's now and then, I have never experienced a night out of my reach where my memories do not fill.
I remember the horse was brown. I remember two of my Junior High girls riding behind and in front. I remember the night was crisp and I was wearing my new second hand brown sweater. I can see Jordan two horses ahead of me with our new camera snapping pictures of dozens of badlands.
He turned his horse around to bring me his coat and I snuggled in the warmth.
Night was setting in, dusk was enveloping us.
I woke up at 5:00am. I knew something was wrong but my brain had to catch up with my heart. I ached and I groaned. The only word that registered was -horse. I woke Jordan up beside me to ask the same questions I had been asking since 7:30pm but to remember them this time.
He told me I had forgotten him. When I reach back into that night I can see people surrounding me, the girls, my parents, our pastor, the doctor. My Husband was not there. But he was. He never left me. He called my name, answered my questions, held me, wiped my tears, answered the same questions again, told me they would not be 'poking me' at the hospital, carried me to bed and woke me to make sure I was still there.
How can I forget the one who calmed my fears and was my rock?
"Do you remember me?" He asked at 5:00am. I laughed not knowing how real his fear was.
"I remember you."
But my concussion quickly became the least of our worries. I walked around in a daze that week and the next, reeling from heart-pain I still don't know how to handle. Attacked.
I am sore and dizzy two weeks later but the heart-pain that hurts more than my aches remains.
All I can pray these days is "Jesus...the one you love is sick"
That is enough.
I am Mary hearing that Jesus has arrived and leaving the mourners to run to him. Martha and her had sent a note to him days ago with only these words "Lord, the one you love is sick." No other words were needed. Her brother was dying but she did not throw demands at Jesus, telling him exactly what He should do and when.
How often do I tell God I and others are hurting then explain to Him how I think He should help?
Her brother Lazarus died and when Jesus finally came, she got up immediately and ran to him."Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."
These are my words to Jesus-
The two you love are sick. Heart-sick. And Lord, I am helpless. I am angry. I don't know how to make this go away. I used to protect them. I was fierce and relentless, I would have done anything in my power to make their lives easy. To make their lives good. I have battled for them, and lost.
"Do you remember me?" I don't laugh this time as the words come from somewhere within.
"I am the Alpha and the Omega. The Beginning and the End.
The Lord of Hosts. Comforter, Redeemer, Friend.
I will never leave you nor forsake you.
I bind the broken hearted and fiercely protect those who are My own.
I am the Mender. Saviour. Lover. Father to the Fatherless.
I AM."
"Do you remember me? I raised Lazarus from the dead."
Wednesday, 12 September 2012
I Want to Be Free
I feel like the weight of the world is all crashing down on me
Does a song ever smack you in the face with intense joy and wonderment? Does a song ever do this repeatedly?
And some how I just don't believe this is how it is supposed to be
They say music can reach farther than a word ever can. I believe who ever they are because this happens to me time and time again.
And all this expectation on the way I'm supposed to live
That's why musicals make so much sense to me! OF COURSE they are randomly singing the same song at the same time even though they don't know each other and have never learnt the song before! That is what life should be! I try this with my husband but we end up singing totally different songs and never start at the same time. He doesn't even fall in step with my movements.
Becomes my minds distraction with nothing left to give.
Does a song ever make you move? I don't mean 'make' in the sense that it's your choice, I mean MAKE you move. Your limbs can't help but do a little Shakira (as my friend Kristen does better than any white woman I've seen!), or a little arm wave and foot pop with your walker.
You said your burden is light and your load is no more,
I learnt dance at college and basked in the chance to explore in that area. Last night a song came on my playlist that I had created a solo dance for a few years ago, so I tried to show my husband what an amazing choreographer I was...I won't describe the scene as I fell incredibly short.
You said Your words are right and in You I will soar!
Sometimes a song sneaks up on me that makes me burst into tears. Sometimes a song comes on that makes me bow my head and whisper the words as a prayer. Often a song comes on that makes me sing at the top of my lungs. Sometimes a song comes on that makes me run to close our curtains because I can't stop the brilliant movements that are coming!
"I want to be free
Free to dance and free to sing
Free to live and love and free
Oh, free to be me."
In every place I've lived till now I have happened upon a 'special spot.' My parents live right beside a train track and on the other side of the tracks was a small valley that I followed until I found a secluded area of bushes, a stream and beautiful quiet.
I feel like my heart is being beat down into the ground
In England I hopped a fence just feet from my room at the college, ran through a field of sheep, jumped another fence and spent hours in an enclosed Eden with a stream and trees upon trees.
In You I'm longing for some peace to be found.
In Austria there was a river not far from the school and I happened upon a perfect spot to be alone right beside the rolling waters.
I know the heaviness that's making me cold
At camp back home was another stream that I claimed as mine and at Rosebud I would sit on top of the train trestle dangling my legs over the Rosebud River.
Is stealing my youthful soul and making me old.
In every spot I would journal, pray, read and often sing. In those spots I was free. I was me. It was God and myself and He has no expectations for He knows me. He truly knows me. I am free in Him. With Him I can dance, with Him I can sing. With Him, I can live.
This one simple statement gave me so much comfort days ago- "He holds us in His arms."
When I think of that I don't see us as being stationary. Just like my dad can't help but spin me around and do a little jive whenever I am in his arms, I know that while God is holding me, we are spinning around a grand dance floor.
You said your burden is light and your load is no more
You said your ways are right and in you I will soar.
(Lyrics from "Free" by Shawn Mcdonald)
Does a song ever smack you in the face with intense joy and wonderment? Does a song ever do this repeatedly?
And some how I just don't believe this is how it is supposed to be
They say music can reach farther than a word ever can. I believe who ever they are because this happens to me time and time again.
And all this expectation on the way I'm supposed to live
That's why musicals make so much sense to me! OF COURSE they are randomly singing the same song at the same time even though they don't know each other and have never learnt the song before! That is what life should be! I try this with my husband but we end up singing totally different songs and never start at the same time. He doesn't even fall in step with my movements.
Becomes my minds distraction with nothing left to give.
Does a song ever make you move? I don't mean 'make' in the sense that it's your choice, I mean MAKE you move. Your limbs can't help but do a little Shakira (as my friend Kristen does better than any white woman I've seen!), or a little arm wave and foot pop with your walker.
You said your burden is light and your load is no more,
I learnt dance at college and basked in the chance to explore in that area. Last night a song came on my playlist that I had created a solo dance for a few years ago, so I tried to show my husband what an amazing choreographer I was...I won't describe the scene as I fell incredibly short.
You said Your words are right and in You I will soar!
Sometimes a song sneaks up on me that makes me burst into tears. Sometimes a song comes on that makes me bow my head and whisper the words as a prayer. Often a song comes on that makes me sing at the top of my lungs. Sometimes a song comes on that makes me run to close our curtains because I can't stop the brilliant movements that are coming!
"I want to be free
Free to dance and free to sing
Free to live and love and free
Oh, free to be me."
In every place I've lived till now I have happened upon a 'special spot.' My parents live right beside a train track and on the other side of the tracks was a small valley that I followed until I found a secluded area of bushes, a stream and beautiful quiet.
I feel like my heart is being beat down into the ground
In England I hopped a fence just feet from my room at the college, ran through a field of sheep, jumped another fence and spent hours in an enclosed Eden with a stream and trees upon trees.
In You I'm longing for some peace to be found.
In Austria there was a river not far from the school and I happened upon a perfect spot to be alone right beside the rolling waters.
I know the heaviness that's making me cold
At camp back home was another stream that I claimed as mine and at Rosebud I would sit on top of the train trestle dangling my legs over the Rosebud River.
Is stealing my youthful soul and making me old.
In every spot I would journal, pray, read and often sing. In those spots I was free. I was me. It was God and myself and He has no expectations for He knows me. He truly knows me. I am free in Him. With Him I can dance, with Him I can sing. With Him, I can live.
This one simple statement gave me so much comfort days ago- "He holds us in His arms."
When I think of that I don't see us as being stationary. Just like my dad can't help but spin me around and do a little jive whenever I am in his arms, I know that while God is holding me, we are spinning around a grand dance floor.
You said your burden is light and your load is no more
You said your ways are right and in you I will soar.
(Lyrics from "Free" by Shawn Mcdonald)
Thursday, 9 August 2012
Soon
I would sit on your lap for hours. The creak creak of the rocking chair as you held me there. The smell of your skin. It was where I wanted to be. I told my brothers "She's MY Gramma." And you were. And you are. I don't remember a belly laugh, but I remember your giggles. When I visited you would buy every kind of fruit for me and giggle as I ate a whole watermelon. You held me as I cried after you let me watch Alfred Hitchcock's "Birds" and I bet you giggled after I finally fell asleep.
After a weekend with you when I was a toddler you handed me back to my Mom and said- "Well, she's potty trained!"
After a weekend with you when I was a toddler you handed me back to my Mom and said- "Well, she's potty trained!"
You travelled. You spoke of your travels. You taught me more of my Canadian history than any teacher. You painted. You loved puzzles. I cried into my pillow once when you left, begging God to bring you back. He did. And you giggled as I ran to you.
You told Jordan "Welcome to the family" long before we were engaged. You loved your children.
The last time I stayed with you we had the honour of sitting in on your devotions with Grandpa. You prayed for each of your children's family. Our family was Tuesday.
I am covered by your prayers.
You tied the bow for my bouquet as I walked down the aisle. You were so nervous you wouldn't get it right in front of the crowd. Once it was tied you breathed deep and giggled, I kissed your cheek and whispered that I loved you. I didn't have time to say that I hope to be half the wife you were to your first husband and second. I didn't have the time to say how honoured I was to have you as part of my legacy, my history. So I wrote it in a note instead.
You taught me how to glory in cooking. When something you cooked was divine you would voice it. "Aren't those potatoes tasty?" They were.
As I prayed on Wednesday, wishing I was beside you as you breathed, I listened to hymns and I pulled weeds. Flowers are poking up called "Grandma's Marigolds." You gave them to us in April.
You are in my garden.
I was surrounded by trees and people when the call came. It rained. I collapsed. Why is the now too soon? You loved to walk so I walked. And I marvelled in your life. I marvelled in our history together. My Grandma.
Even if I could beg God to bring you back this time I wouldn't. I am jealous of your new eyes. Your new arms that have held our Savior. I can hear you giggle together as you walk.
Jordan and I sang a song in church a few weeks before your beginning and I sing it now for you because your SOON is NOW.
I celebrate your life Wanda Evelyn Voth, you have given me breath, you have given me faith. You taught me what strong means by your wrestle with life.
And now, you are free.
Saturday, 23 June 2012
Too Much
I cringe at the expectations placed before me.
I frown at the daily reminder of who I am now.
I beat myself up looking back over this year and reminding myself of my failures.
People say that "God will not give us more that we can bear." They say it's in the Bible and I ask them where? The correct verse is-
1 Corinthians 10:13
No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.
He will not TEMPT us beyond what we can bear. But give? I look over the last year of my life and I know with certainty that God gave me much more than I could ever bear.
I look at the life of friends and their struggles. I hear stories of people being persecuted and killed in the name of Jesus. Not given more than they can bear? A cheating spouse, a broken heart, a cruel disease, the death of a child.
God is faithful. God is good.
So what do I believe then? I believe that God is God and He is to be praised. I believe that God reaches down and gives unexplainable comfort and release.
And because of that I can rejoice in this burden placed on me. I can rejoice that those who look on my life or hear my story will be pointed to God and His incredibly mercy. For it's all about HIM. Not little me. He is the reason I can still smile, the reason I have joy, release and giggle uncontrollably at times.
My prayer for you reading this is that you place your burden that you cannot bear upon His large shoulders and watch what He does with it.
I frown at the daily reminder of who I am now.
I beat myself up looking back over this year and reminding myself of my failures.
People say that "God will not give us more that we can bear." They say it's in the Bible and I ask them where? The correct verse is-
1 Corinthians 10:13
No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.
He will not TEMPT us beyond what we can bear. But give? I look over the last year of my life and I know with certainty that God gave me much more than I could ever bear.
I look at the life of friends and their struggles. I hear stories of people being persecuted and killed in the name of Jesus. Not given more than they can bear? A cheating spouse, a broken heart, a cruel disease, the death of a child.
God is faithful. God is good.
So what do I believe then? I believe that God is God and He is to be praised. I believe that God reaches down and gives unexplainable comfort and release.
God carries my burdens. HE bears them. Not me.
And because of that I can rejoice in this burden placed on me. I can rejoice that those who look on my life or hear my story will be pointed to God and His incredibly mercy. For it's all about HIM. Not little me. He is the reason I can still smile, the reason I have joy, release and giggle uncontrollably at times.
My prayer for you reading this is that you place your burden that you cannot bear upon His large shoulders and watch what He does with it.
HOPE
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
-Emily Dickinson
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