Home for Christmas?

While many people are trying to ‘get home for Christmas,’ there is someone who left home at Christmas- for you and me.  

“ For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior,

who is Christ the Lord.

And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths

and lying in a manger.”

(Luke 2:11,12)

Mowing your lawn

 

The Tracks

The tracks we leave behind us tell a story. Mowing a lawn, you would think, is just that: mowing a lawn. As I looked at the traces of where I had been just one day ago, I was reminded that not all tracks in life are straight. Sometimes, we go in circles. Other times, we swerve to avoid a catastrophe. And then there are those tracks that turn into ruts; markers of one bad decision after another.

I thank God that He redeems us; that, not only did Jesus die on a cross and rise again for us to be forgiven and be ready for heaven, but that His heart is always for us, His compassions are new every morning and I can, by His grace, get out of the rut. He creates a new pattern, 

“Trust in the Lord with all of your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.
Acknowledge the Lord in all of your ways and He will make your paths straight.”

(Proverbs 3:5,6).

My testimony, by God's grace. Fall 2020.

 

Copy and paste into your browser:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6_-KvT4swe8

Weep With Those Who Weep

 

Romans 12:15b

“Weep with those who weep” 

When World War ll broke out, my Dad was nine years old.  Two of his older brothers fought in that war, and, strange as it may seem, my Dad was called a Nazi.  Where he grew up, one was frequently referred to by a string of previous generations.  For example, my Dad was known as: “Gerard Mosie Mose Germain.”  With this moniker, everyone knew which family he belonged to, especially given that many children throughout the community had the same first name.

Back to being a Nazi.  You see, some people in the village could not pronounce “Germain,” so they called my Dad: “Gerard Mosie Mose German,” followed by the excruciating taunt that he must be a Nazi, given that “German” was in his name.  Painful, to say the least; deserved- of course not.  It was utterly foolish; so misguided. 

Moving ahead to the year 2021, Canadians are finally discovering the horrible truths about what happened to the thousands of Indigenous children at our so-called “Residential Schools.”  I would not label them as such.  They were literally killing fields, along with the indoctrinating of children so as to be entirely at odds with their culture and language.   Lest we think: “Oh that was so long ago,” 1996 is only 25 years ago; in my lifetime and likely in yours.  As a Canadian, I am appalled and apoplectic.  Heartbroken, I have wept.  Justice must prevail.  Several generations have been deeply traumatized and we need to work hard at reconciliation and healing.  So many layers of lies kept this information hidden.  But, now we know. 

Just like my Dad was certainly not a Nazi, I, as a follower of Jesus Christ, am in no wise connected to the so-called Christians who perpetrated these awful deeds under the guise of Christianity; their sin is not mine to carry.  It would be equivalent to making the people of Germany, today, responsible for the sins of their fathers.  Representing a church, not representing Jesus, the perpetrators of those who ran these ‘schools’ hid behind their black robes.  They were wolves in sheep’s clothing; albeit black sheep.  And the government officials were just as guilty, seeing as they passed on the tedious-to-them:  ‘ Indian problem.’

 I will not, however, ‘cancel Canada’ because of a shameful, albeit recent, past.  I will work towards justice and reconciliation.  While I am not personally responsible for the aforementioned atrocities, I can, and do call true Christians to repentance; acknowledging that we may have heard stories and yet did not want to believe them; acknowledging that we may have labelled Indigenous people as lazy or incompetent-there is plenty of guilt to spread around.  I would echo God’s words of 2 Chronicles 7:14

If my people, who are called by my Name

will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways,

then I will hear from heaven and I will forgive their sin and heal their land.

 

When I was a child, some children in my little village called me by many names: “Nigger, Blackie, Indian.”  How I shrank at those words.  They cut like a knife.  My Mother would tell me:  “Forgive them.  They don’t understand what they are doing.  And always remember that there will be people who will need you to stand up for them.”  I am forever grateful for her tender spirit, and in my little soul I determined that if ever I met others who were maligned, taunted and spoken of in crude and nasty ways, that I would love them and defend them fiercely.

For all the little souls that were taken; for all the crumpled bodies that were mercilessly thrown into graves; for all the survivors who came home but no longer felt at home; for all the children whose blood is crying from the ground- may God have mercy on your families.  May God bring healing.  May those of us who are followers of the Lord Jesus Christ come alongside of you, and weep with you and pledge to love you and work for a better tomorrow. 

Beauty Beyond Measure

  He has made everything beautiful in its time.  

(Ecclesiastes 3:11)

I marvel at the beauty seen in a well-cultivated garden or a beautifully-landscaped property.  The gardener has taken time, talent and thought to piece together a work of art.  In a world where I expect everything, at once, ready-made, and to my liking, I am thinking I should take a leaf out of God's Book; where the ultimate gardener patiently brought the world into existence.  He took seven days.  In the unfolding of days one to five, we see the brilliance and creativity of how God made everything ready for humanity; water, light, air, plants, sun, moon, stars, fish and birds. 

Saving the best for last, he brought animals and then His crowning creation, humanity, into existence, on day six.  In His wonderful wisdom, He rested on day seven, and no, God was not tired.  He had simply finished the work of creating, with all its beauty.  And He took all the time He needed.

Whether it be waiting for the subtle colours in the rising of the sun, or the incredible painting of the western sky at dusk; the blooming of a flower or the first glimps of a new-born baby; beauty is always worthy of the wait.  Paint that sunset.  Plant that seed.  Pour your love into that sweet baby's precious life.

Be of good courage, friends.  Sow kindness.  Sow joy.  Sow beauty.  Sow the incredible, indelible gospel and fruit will come; everlasting fruit; beauty beyond measure.  The Gardener, Jesus Christ, will bring you to His eternal rest; to behold His beauty.  And, while we will be taken aback to see the nail prints in His hands and feet, they will be of utmost beauty to us.  God's plans, from eternity past, will finally bear eternal fruit.  

Sow righteousness for yourselves,

reap the fruit of unfailing love,

and break up your unplowed ground;

for it is time to seek the Lord,

until he comes

and showers his righteousness on you.

(Hosea 10:12)

Platitudes just won't cut it

Platitude: "a remark or statement, especially one with a moral content, that has been used too often to be interesting or thoughtful."

If you're running your life on platitudes

You'll be nowhere near the beatitudes.

Only Christ underpinning your attitudes,

Will make the gospel count for infinitude.

As the wonderful hymn states:

On Christ the solid rock I stand

All other ground is sinking sand.

All other ground is sinking sand.

Quenching My Thirst

May 28, 2021.

Back in Nova Scotia since a few weeks, the "Hummers" are fueling up to take care of their wee, (very wee) ones. Watching them hover, wings a-fluttering at the speed of approximately 53 beats per second, it's a marvelous work of God to behold. A group of Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds is called a "Charm," and charming they are. I am mesmerized by their beauty.

Sipping at a feeder, they do not stay for very long, only taking what they need; returning time and time again throughout the day until dusk begins to fall.  Some lessons for me:

 

Drink in God's word.

 Quench my thirst all day long, from dawn to dusk.

 Apply it to my life, every   single   day.

 

"Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,

for I have put my trust in you.

Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul."

(Psalm 148:3)

Do your clothes fit?

 

Pretty much everyone I know puts on some kind of clothes, every day.  For many of us, we have walk-in closets and bureau drawers full to the overflowing.  And, at that, a lot of our clothes don’t even fit.

Colossians 3:12,13 speaks of clothing ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience; with the addition of  putting  up with each other, and forgiving one another.   It ends with the overcoat: “and over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”(v. 14)

Do I even have these clothes in my closet? 

Paul finishes the entire section by stating:

“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.” (Col. 3:17)

Admittedly, this summary gives me pause, as I consider that I have often acted too hastily, spoken too harshly. But it also gives me encouragement. Because my words and my deeds are ‘in the name of the Lord Jesus,’ I can speak and I can act in His power and by His mercy. This clothing is, essentially, “putting on Christ,” (Romans 13:14). In doing so, with a thankful heart, it means that what seems downright impossible is entirely feasible. If I am willing to raid my closet, there is a lot of clothing that needs to go: the glittery cloaks of pride and arrogance; of bad temper and rough words; of impatience and an unforgiving heart.

 Being clothed with Christ is so much more fitting.

Oh, to be colour-blind

If only humanity was colour-blind when it comes to skin colour.  We just can’t seem to get past the nonsense, the ugliness, the prejudice of thinking that skin colour should dictate someone's status in life. 

When I was a child, our family moved to a new community.  Well, you would have thought we came from another planet; perhaps even another universe.  I won’t even mention the despicable names that were placed on me; names directly related to the fact that my skin tone was ever-so-slightly-darker than those around me.  And I mean, ever-so-slightly; imperceptibly so.  Did it mark me?  Yes.  I came home from school, every day, in tears.  I absolutely despise the reality of someone being degraded because of skin colour.

What is our response to the contemptible actions perpetrated by those who are convinced of their superiority because of their white skin?  I am sick-and-tired; tired-and-sick.  Thinking of the awful killing of George Floyd, I am ready to vomit.  This is not just an “American problem.”  This is sin; full-blown. 

Mr. Floyd deserves justice.  The police officers who engaged in this murderous act need to be charged.  Since when do you need all the facts before you charge someone?  Did these police officers even search out any facts, before destroying this man's life?  Should not the wheels of justice be turning already, given the very clear video?  These policemen have been fired.  Good, but not good enough.  They need to be in jail, without bail; charged for murder. I am praying for a truthful, detailed investigation.

I am sorry that so many citizens of Minneapolis have responded by looting and burning.  Hate will never be destroyed by hate; albeit I understand their overwhelming frustrations.

Back to my childhood.  My Mom encouraged me thus: “Forgive them.”  She was right.  And while that answer might seem like I would be giving these policemen a pass, it is not so.  Forgiving someone does not justify their actions, nor does it free them to continue with those same actions.  It erases a much larger debt that they could never pay, a debt owed to God, and it realeses the forgiver from hatred.  Meanwhile, these men should pay with their lives, in jail, for the rest of their lives.  

Every life matters.  Black lives matter.  Mr. Floyd’s life matters.

Weeping, as I write. 

“The mouth of the righteous utters wisdom and his tongue speaks justice.” (Psalm 37:30)

And they remembered His words

These times are unprecedented, confusing, and disconcerting.  We could all use a solid rock upon which to stand; a sure foundation, not unlike the time surrounding the death of Jesus Christ.  I can picture the uncertainty, the palpable fear, and the consternation, on the Sunday morning when women went to Jesus’ tomb with their expensive, sacrificial burial spices.

Who would roll away the stone; the stone that weighed over 900kg?  Would the Roman soldiers who guarded the tomb stop the women?  Would they hurt them; kill them?  Did these women have in mind that they, like Joseph of Arimethea and Nicodemus, would be unclean once they touched the dead body of Jesus? Nevertheless, their love propelled them forward.  

Upon their arrival, the guards were gone, the stone was rolled away and instead of a dead body, these women encountered angels; angels who spoke these words:

“Why do you seek the living among the dead?  He is not here but He is risen. 

Remember how He spoke to you while He was still in Galilee,

saying that the Son of man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men,

and be crucified and the third day rise again.” (Luke 24:5-7)

And they remembered His words(verse 8)

If I ‘remember His words,’ I will do well.  I will remember that Jesus Christ is a Solid Rock, a Sure Foundation.  I will remember that He will carry us through the uncertainties.  I will not fear.  In order to actually remember His words, I need to immerse myself in them, rather than being immersed in the newsreels of this current pandemic. 

Does this mean I should bury my head in the sand and ignore this global crisis?  No.  There is much that I can do to alleviate sadness, loneliness, and fear seen in those around me.  I can pray for others, encourage the lonely through phone calls and social media, and point people to the One who has all things, including the whole world, in His hands.

“Thy word is a lamp to my feet

And a light to my path.”

 (Psalm 119:105)

March 30, 2020.

The Father’s Arms

The Prodigal Son is a powerful parable that Jesus gave us, in the Bible, (Luke 15:11-32). As my Pastor spoke on this very passage, I was brought to tears; envisioning the father running to meet his run-away son. I saw myself in that son; now forgiven, welcomed home.

The other son in this story was angry; the son who had not run away; the son who had always obeyed his father. He refused to come to the party, staying outside, pouting.

And the father, who loved them both, also went out to this son. He entreated him to enter, to join in the festivities. But he would not.

This second son represented the religious leaders of Jesus’ day - the Pharisees. They had it all figured out, when it came to obeying the law. As far as they were concerned, they were the righteous ones and what kind of God would pardon such a sinner as the first son, namely those people who were not like them.

Thank God that He reaches out to all. He is no respecter of persons. We may not know it, but we are all prodigals. So overwhelmed by the grace, mercy, love and compassion of such a Saviour.

“Call upon me and I will answer you…”(Jeremiah 33:3)

At the Table

I would venture to say that most, if not all, cultures, have a sense that food is not just for the body.  It is also for the meeting of souls:  for companionship, for camaraderie and for conversation.   How tragic, then, is the betrayal of a friend, at a commemorative meal.

There they were, 12 disciples and Jesus, celebrating the Passover; celebrating the exodus of Israel from the hand of Pharaoh, king of Egypt. It had been over 1,400 years since that exodus.  Think of that.  A special meal, observed yearly, for 1,400 years.  This third Passover meal with Jesus and His disciples would be markedly different than their first two.

Little did they know it would be their last; little did they know that Jesus, Himself, would soon become the Passover Lamb, (1 Corinthians 5:7). It was a troubling meal, with Jesus stating: “But behold, the hand of the one betraying me is with me on the table” (Luke 22:21).  As is often the case, God juxtapositions an unfolding of opposite events to deepen the contrast between darkness and light.  On that fateful night, over 2,000 years ago, the most ignominious of treacheries took place, at a meal; at the table.

After Jesus had given Judas a morsel of the bread, pointing to him as the betrayer, it tells us: “…and it was night” (John 14:30).   How dark was the soul of Judas, as he slipped away to betray Jesus for the price of a slave; the negotiated price of 30 pieces of silver.  But that night, Jesus changed the meaning of this special meal, redeeming it from the ashes of betrayal.

As Paul writes:

“For I received from the Lord that which I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus in the night in which He was betrayed took bread; and when He had given thanks, He broke it, and said: ‘ This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.’  In the same way He took the cup also, after supper, saying:’ This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’  For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until He comes” (1 Corinthians 11: 23-26).

Judas partook of both the bread and the cup, even though he knew that Jesus was aware of his deception.  You think it would have stopped him; stymied him, troubled him. After all, Jesus was making this meal about His body and His blood; His imminent death.  But Judas carried on, and the cross was waiting.

As our church regularly celebrates “The Lord’s Supper,” “The Breaking of Bread,” Communion,” I am reminded of this betrayal.  I am reminded that the meal of friendship and joy had become one of false pretenses and jarring lies. I am reminded of my own sin; the very sin that brought about the death of Jesus.  I am reminded that I, too, have betrayed Him.  But I am also grateful that this ‘meal’ can be a time of confession, leading to joy; a time of repentance and a time to be renewed in my relationship with Jesus, the One who died for my sins and rose from the dead three days later.

Easter was just around the corner; the impossible was about to happen, and no amount of betrayal was going to stop Jesus from rising from the dead, not even a betrayal that took place at a meal; at the table among friends.

Joyeuse Pâques

Happy Easter

Bitter, Sweet and Compassion

While there are lots of things common to every culture, e.g.: music, language, belonging; there is one element that touched me deeply this past week while on a mission trip to the Dominican Republic.  Compassion; the expression of an understanding soul. 

You see, my Mom, at the age of 95, died on Friday February 1^st at 10am.  During the night, I had asked staff at the long-term care home where she lived if they could help me move Mom to one side of her bed.  I climbed in next to her; I sang, I prayed, I wept, I spoke, read Scripture and yes, I even slept a little bit.  There was no doubt in my mind that the Lord Jesus Christ would soon be taking her home to be with Him.  The hardest part of the two-week-long decline was seeing my Mom in pain; which brings me back to compassion.

One week after Mom’s death, I was in the Dominican for a nine-day trip that included a Vacation Bible School for 120 children, a ladies Bible study, working on a pigpen for a Christian school, building walls for a vocational school, sanding and painting the walls of a church, and engaging with students who were taking ESL, (English as a Second Language). 

Speaking with these students, I told them that my Mom had died very recently.  One young lady, with tears in her eyes, struggled to ask the question: “How do you feel?”  Her angst was partly because of her limited English, but more-so because of a compassionate heart.  My answer: “It has been bittersweet.”  My own limited Spanish meant that I could describe the sweet part: Mom was home with Jesus.  The bitter part was more difficult: the pain of watching my Mom in pain was almost unbearable, even though an understanding of Jesus taking our pain and our sorrow had reduced the bitterness.  Their ESL teacher exclaimed: “Bitter, like a lemon!” (in Spanish, of course).  Yes, bitter like a lemon.  Seeing the compassionate heart of this young lady was beauty personified; I was so grateful for our little conversation.

“The Lord’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. 

They are new every morning; great is Thy faithfulness.”

(Lamentations 3: 22,23)

And the Lord knew that I needed the team of 30 people surrounding me, for the nine days that we were in the Dominican.  He knew that a shared sorrow would ease the ache.  Compassion, like art and music, crosses cultural boundaries.  If you are looking for beauty; you will find it in those who have compassionate hearts; no matter the culture, the language or the circumstance. 

Everyone Needs Compassion

https://www.youtube.com/watch?reload=9&v=t5ghKwGEQRA

On the brink of madness

Why are we so shocked and so surprised at the New York State legislature’s decision regarding abortion? Canada is way ahead of the eight-ball on this one; to our great shame.
https://www.campaignlifecoalition.com/abortion/A few Canadian facts: In R. v. Morgentaler, 1988, the Supreme Court of Canada made its landmark decision to throw out the 1969 abortion law on the basis that it was 'unconstitutional'.

(1) This created a legal vacuum in which, to this day, no abortion law exists in Canada.
Abortion is permitted throughout all 9 months of pregnancy, for any reason, up to the moment of birth. Section 223 of the Criminal Code of Canada defines a human being as ‘a child that has completely proceeded from the body of its mother.’(2) This section strips pre-born human beings of their human right to life.  Abortions are funded with taxpayer dollars through every provincial health care system. This, despite the fact that polls show a majority of Canadians, 67% in a 2011 poll, significantly disagree with their dollars being used to kill babies. (3) The Canada Health Act does not require abortion costs to be insured. It states only that "medically necessary" procedures must be insured.(4)Almost all abortions are not medically necessary. Provincial legislatures can pass a law recognizing this fact at any time.

Back to New York:

“(NEW YORK, New York, January 23, 2019 (LifeSiteNews) – New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo (D) directed that the One World Trade Center's spire be lit pink overnight on Tuesday to celebrate his signing of a law allowing abortions until birth and letting non-doctors commit abortions. The law, the Reproductive Health Act, also erases the state’s recognition of preborn babies older than 24 weeks as potential homicide victims. The new law also means that women whose unborn babies are killed against their will – in cases of domestic violence, for example – won’t be able to charge their aggressors.”

So, let me get this straight…

1. The most dangerous place for a baby to live is inside her mother’s womb.

2. If someone kills a woman who is in her third trimester of pregnancy, the murderer will not be charged with the baby’s death; justice is NOT served. Abusive men will get away with murder; they will harm the mother, and kill the baby in the womb. What’s to stop them?

3. Signing this legislation into law on the anniversary of Roe vs. Wade is no mistake or coincidence; evil begets evil. The slippery slope can hardly get any more slippery; unless you also take into account the fact that, in the Netherlands, a child can ask to be euthanized to alleviate the grief and suffering of their parents; Toronto Sick Kids Hospital now has a team of professionals looking into this very possible scenario since “medical aid in dying” is now available in Canada…

4. “Letting non-doctors commit abortions.” Isn’t that one of the reasons why people screamed for the legalization of abortions, so medical doctors could perform ‘safe abortions?’ How ironic is that? Safe for whom? The baby?

5. The “One World Trade Centre,” built to replace the Twin Towers that were destroyed by evil men, was symbolically lit up in pink, to celebrate the passing of this bill. Could it be more ignominious, this celebration of death?

Proverbs 24:11,12 

Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter.

If you say, “But we knew nothing about this,” 

does not he who weighs the heart perceive it? 

Does not he who guards your life know it? 

Will he not repay everyone according to what they have done? 

Canada, we have blood on our hands. New York State, you have blood on your hands. No one can honestly say that a pre-born baby, at nine months, is not a child. Using semantics as a shield for murder; sounds like the Nazis calling Jews rats, or the Hutus calling the Tutsis cockroaches.

Only repentance will draw us back from the brink of madness.

All Things Hold Together

One of the more difficult days of my life today; and I have had some difficult ones, as I am sure is true for everyone.  I have often sat beside people whose loved one is very ill or in great pain.  Today it was my turn, as I sat beside Mom.  A fracture of her upper right arm has caused her much agony and my heart broke as I sat beside her, prayed aloud for her and sang.  Because her hearing aid is being repaired, she could not hear very much.

But my heavenly Father could hear everything I said and prayed and sang.  A heart full of lament; comforted by a heavenly Father who understands what great pain is all about.  Tears came; co-workers comforted.  Mom eventually slept.  And tomorrow, my God will still be there.

Studying Colossians has reminded me that Christ is enough for every day, every broken heart, every sorrow and, indeed, every joy.  Try as I might to replace Him with someone or something; He is enough.  There is no philosophy, no tradition, no angel, no power that can compare to Him.

“And He is the image of the invisible God, the first-born of all creation. 

For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, 

visible and invisible,

whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities-

all things have been created by Him and for Him. 

And He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together” (Colossians 1:16).

 It is ever so tempting to rail against God, to blame Him for the ugly moments of life; to run to the den of despair and look for answers outside of Him.  But He is enough.  

Hebrews 4:15,16

Since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, 

Jesus the Son of God,

let us hold fast to our confession. 

For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses

 but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin.

Let us therefore draw near with confidence to the throne of grace,

that we may receive mercy and may find grace to help in time of need.”

I am so thankful that the mercies of Christ are enough for me, for Mom, and for anyone who puts their trust in Him.

Cultivating Grace

Reflecting on Pastor Pernell’s message today.  Show kindness; every time.  Show kindness, every time, until it becomes the norm.  Show kindness, every time, until it becomes the norm; so that you do not even have to think about it.  That’s grace; God’s grace.  

Surely this is true of Jesus:

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us

And we beheld His glory,

Glory as of the only begotten from the Father

Full of grace and truth. (John 1:14)

May I cultivate this grace – an undeserved gift - so that it would be the best fruit from my garden, given as an offering to all.

“As each one has received a gift, employ it in serving one another,

as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.” (1 Peter 4:10)

Merry Christmas

A Burden Shared

Maman

I didn’t realize that I had actually been putting on a brave face these past few weeks.  Two friends, on the same day, asked if I was okay, as my face looked tired.  Only then did I actually share about a difficult day; that day a few weeks ago. 

No one really saw it coming.  No one had ever seen my Mom have a major panic attack.  But, as the Lord would have it, I was there; that day, a few weeks ago. 

It’s a strange thing.  Mom was never one to be obsessively worried.  She always had that ‘can-do,’ keep-moving-forward’ kind of attitude.  Putting her and panic attack in the same sentence seems to make no sense.  But that is how dementia has wormed its way into her life. 

Perhaps it is something you have observed or maybe you deal with it yourself.  In Mom’s case, it starts with some burping and then belching and then she swallows a lot of air and saliva keeps building up in her mouth and down her throat and she starts to panic and gets confused and tries to spit but can’t because she feels trapped and gets confused and people around her are panicking and she gets more confused and it is very.   difficult.  to.  slow.  things.  down.

Oh, how she needed to spit!  All that swallowed air and phlegm.  It took us over half an hour; speaking slowly, in measured tones, Kleenex in hand, coaxing her to keep spitting.  Finally, she was free of it, and oh, so very very tired.  But it wasn’t over yet.  I had to convince her to drink a cold, cold glass of water.  We’ve discovered that this helps to slow.  things.  down.  Otherwise, it could start all over again. 

We don’t really know what triggers such an attack.  We do know it is exhausting.  If someone observes Mom starting to burp and belch, they can give her cold water to drink; they can find ways to distract her and keep her busy with tasks.  For the next few days, the staff at The Home monitored her vital signs and she did a lot of sleeping; and I mean, a lot.  Up for breakfast, then sleeping ‘til noon.  Up for lunch, then sleeping ‘til supper and then back to bed.

I am glad I was there; that day, a few weeks ago.  I am sad that Mom has gone through this.  I am torn between a desire to maintain my Mom’s dignity and a need to share what is happening.  To share so that others might find a way out of such a difficult situation and to share so that church family can know how to pray.  I could wish I had spoken sooner.  The burden would have been lighter. 

For someone who encourages other people to share so we can truly know how to pray, I was reluctant to do so, and I paid the price.  It weighed heavier on my heart than I had realized. 

I was reminded of Mary, the mother of Jesus, as I sifted through my thoughts during these past two weeks (See Luke 1:26-38).  The Lord knew she would need someone who could relate to her unique circumstances.  Who to share the news with; who to entrust with her remarkable story of an angel announcing this unplanned, supernatural pregnancy?  Leave it to God to have a plan.  The angel Gabriel told Mary about Elizabeth, her cousin.  She was barren and past her child-bearing years, but she also was with child; an unplanned, supernatural pregnancy, in her old age.  So, Mary spent her first trimester with Elizabeth.  How God provides! 

And Lord provided two sisters-in-Christ, so that my burden would be much lighter. 

Mom is back to her usual, happy self, albeit more tired.  At the age of 95, most of us would slow down too; I know, I know!  But, I am praying for more precious time with her.

 “Bear one another’s burdens, and thus fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2).

Released

G.R.A.C.E   ̴ Released

God keep our land,

Redeemed by the soldier’s hand.

Affording us a hard-won peace

Courage in battle, never at ease.

Ever-remembered, let them be released.

            Released from the burden of carrying the torch

            Released from wretched memories; mind scorched.

            Flying the banner of a people set free

            Flying the banner for you and for me.

            God keep our land.

Giving up home, hearth and heart,

Ready to fight, from the start.

Awaiting the call to protect and keep

Comrades-at-arms, loyalty runs deep.

Ever-remembered, let them be released.

Released from the burden of carrying the torch

            Released from wretched memories; mind scorched.

            Flying the banner of a people set free

            Flying the banner for you and for me.

            God keep our land.

Gaining freedom at such great cost,

Running the gauntlet, so many lives lost.

Awakening hope, liberty gained

Calling for armistice; mercy reigns.

Ever-remembered, let them be released.

Released from the burden of carrying the torch

            Released from wretched memories; mind scorched.

            Flying the banner of a people set free

            Flying the banner for you and for me.

            God keep our land.

~ Francine Chiasson ~

A Mother's Heart

Summertime in Clare, Nova Scotia means family comes to visit; literally from around the world.  So, when Theo and Cecilé were here, along with other family members, off we went to La Cuisine Robichaud for a meal.  Mom was very happy to be with people; she was not altogether sure who all the people were.

Sitting on her left was Theo- her youngest son.  I said: “Mom, that young man is your son, Theo,” pointing to him.

Mom: “Oh, really?”  Looking at me, she asked: “Is he married?”

I replied: “Yes, the lady across the table is his wife, Cecilé.”

Mom: “I see.”

And that was that; sort of like reading an interesting news article.  I felt like a door had begun to open and then got slammed shut.  Mom had forgotten her youngest son and even with him sitting right next to her, she didn’t ‘see’ him.  Ach!  ‘Twas a sad moment in time.  Hard as it was to enjoy this family gathering, I admired the courage it took for Theo and Cecilé to embrace this moment, even though all of us had eyes that betrayed our grief; pools of tears remained bottled-up for the time being.

Fast-forward three months later.  Chatting with Mom, I mentioned that Theo and Cecilé were now living close to Carmenne, my youngest sister, and Jared, her son.

Mom: “Oh, he is my youngest son, you know!”

Me: “Yes he is, Mom.”

Mom: “Is he married?”

Me: “Yes.”

Mom: “Is he happy?

Tears welled up in me as I smiled and said: “Yes, he is very happily married to Cecilé.”

Upon hearing this Mom clapped her hands with a child-like delight and said: “That is wonderful!  I am so glad!”  And then, unexpectedly, Mom burst into tears.  Happy tears, thankful tears, and without a doubt I believe they were tears of relief, as she no doubt was remembering some of the difficult years she spent with Dad.  Needless to say, a dam broke within me and my own tears mingled with hers as we embraced each other.

Who can fathom the depths of a mother’s love?

Who can draw back the grey curtain of dementia?

Only God.  “We love because He first loved us” (1 John 4:19).  Sitting there, I was so thankful for God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit.  This triune God is a communicating and loving God- planting love deep within a mother’s heart; a love that will not let us go.

A Child

It has been a despicable act of evil for the president of the United States to execute an order whereby children of illegal immigrants have been placed in cages, shipped off to ‘centres,’ and/or sent into foster care; their parents having no idea where they have gone. 

Is there no sense of the dignity of human life?  Are these children expendable; being used as weapons of war in the fight against illegal entry?  Have they committed some crime?  Why are they having to pay for their parents’ decision to escape a life of grinding poverty and drug wars?  While I do not begrudge America’s desire to manage their borders, the least they could do would be to keep families together. 

It is a tragedy that has happened before.  And here, in Canada, we need only look back to recall the tragic years of Indigenous children being shipped off to residential schools, or Indigenous children taken away from their families and placed for adoption or foster care, with everyone turning a blind eye.

God, have mercy on us! 

I am glad the president has rescinded his order, and they are working to restore these children to their parents.  I am thankful for those who have fought against such an injustice.  I am grateful for an entire nation rising up in outrage.

But, I see a paradox.  Many of the same people who have been rightly outraged at such a despicable law are the same people who willingly allow a baby to be ripped from her mother’s womb, at any stage of her development.  Separated forever.  No turning back.  No being reunited with mom or dad.  A child, paying with her life.

God, have mercy on us!  Have we completely lost our minds?