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jennsmidlifecrisis

Category Archives: Faith

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 40

06 Thursday Oct 2022

Posted by jennsmidlifecrisis in Faith, Family

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, faith, family


Dear Diary – It’s Week 40, the same number of weeks as the average gestation period for humans. Even though I might feel like it, I am not a sleep-deprived new Mom. I’m slowly recovering from the Death Flu of last week. In addition to regaining some energy (and sadly, appetite that wants dessert), I’ve been left with a burning chest. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon and I’m simply sitting on the couch. I was very fortunate to speak to my Dr. and I’m on an inhaler. This happened last time I tried this new medication and I’m going to go out on a limb and say, this one is NOT for me!

Last Thursday, I crawled from my bed…to the couch, where I consumed gingerale, crackers, and the entire mini series “Angel of Darkness”.

Since then, I’ve banished the “darkness” and have tackled multiple piles of crap and corners of crud. I’m reclaiming the house after all the in-house shuffling during covid to accomodate work, school, and whatever it is that I do! With some shuffling in the office, I made room for the desk that was in the middle of the bedroom. Now all my sewing is in one room, and my bedroom is once again a bedroom. Plus I have a trunk full of crap to donate. Just in time for a new furnace (hopefully tomorrow – he has yet to confirm but we agreed to his suggeste date, so he might just show up. And, hopefully, I will be dressed). Also just in time for Thanksgiving. Eldest Son might be bringing his girlfriend for a night and I couldn’t let her see the house in the shape it was in. Between covid, illnesses and sewing my brains out, the house is clean, but not tidy.

But it’s well on the way!

You never get a second chance to make a first impression.

Will Rogers

Dear Diary – Do you ever get the feeling that something isn’t right? Intuition? Premonition? Sixth Sense? Nonesense. Whatever you call it, I starting feeling it Friday morning.

Normally, I drive Youngest Son to school, but I was still nursing a headache and had told him the night before he was on his own. I planned to get up in time to say “bye”, but he left 15 minutes early. I only know this because I heard the door slam on his way out. I raced to the window but by the time I got there, he was already out of sight. I went back to bed and thought nothing of it.

Until lunchtime, right around the time he’d be leaving the school.

And then he didn’t come home.

I dismissed the feeling and tried to reason why he’d be so late. But he isn’t a doddler and the time for his online co-op placement was fast approaching. Was the timetable impacted by an assembly? Was co-op in-class today? Had he been kidnapped by pirates and sold into slavery?

The school confirmed no assembly. I left a voicemail for his co-op teacher puttered aimlessly the rest of the afternoon.

The teacher called after school. It was business as usual, so where was Youngest Son? The teacher contacted his placement supervisor and called me back. The Supervisor had received a message from Youngest Son saying he would be late because he had “taken the wrong bus and was a long way from home”.

My heart sunk. He could be anywhere in the city…in any direction. I had no way of finding out!

Except…

I had received a text from an unknown person, which I had to tap to open so I completely ignored it. I opened it now. While I couldn’t read the full message, I saw a couple street names, my home and cell number and phrases like “bus left”, “Hudson” and “their son is there”.

I grabbed my keys, slapping a “Call me!” note on the front door, and headed to the nearby Mall with a Hudson’s Bay store.

Inside I was racing to that store. Outside, I was crawling because it was Friday afternoon in the city. I prayed between heated sighs and low growls. I sounded like Marg Simpson. I knew it; I didn’t care! DIdn’t these stupid people know I needed to get my child?

I frantically hobbled around the store several times, then the Mall. I don’t know if there were even any good sales on! I even had a salesclerk try paging him several times. The first time, she asked him to come to the Estee Lauder counter. I rolled my eyes. I don’t know too many teenage boys who know what Estee Lauder is?

But after nearly an hour, no Youngest Son. With a knot in my stomach the size of a basketball, I called Hubby to come home, and crawled my way there too. I hit every red light. When I got stopped by a freight train, just blocks from home, I actually screamed. Not a high-pitched scream like I’d been frightened by a spider, but something ferocious and feral. The intensity of it scared me, but I once again felt more in control of the terror clawing on the periphery.

My heart sunk when I saw my note still on the door. One more tour of the neighbourhood, then I called the police.

I had just started to reheat a cup of tea in the microwave (since tea is stereotypically consumed by those in distress), when the police officers arrived. The microwave continued to snark chirp throughout the first phase of questioning.

It wasn’t until the officer opened the weird message fully, that I realized it was from Youngest Son on his computer, and I knew exactly where he was. I had gone to the wrong mall! It had crossed my mind, but in my haste, I had stupidly dismissed it and wasted so much time!

The officers asked for a recent photo so they could share it with mall security and police in the area. Youngest Son has resisted having his photo taken for years. Any “recent” photos would have a hand, a burger, something over his face.

Hubby arrived home and we found a photo. We texted a few folks who we had informed so they could be praying. Our pastor and long-time friend called to say he was on his way…to the mall.

And we waited. I rocked in the rocking chair, squeaking a 4/4 rock beat, irritating everyone in the room.

After about 40 minutes, the phone rang and I heard the sweetest words: “I’ve got him!”

He had been lost for 5 1/2 hours. When the officer stepped outside to tell his partner, I burst into tears.

This has always been one of my greatest fears…that my child would find himself frightened, alone, and hurt, at the mercy of a stranger. If God should choose to take him home, I want to be there. I want to hold him and comfort him, and usher him into the arms of Jesus. It’s an irrational fear, maybe even a selfish one. But whoever said fear was rational?

It’s an instinctive part of being a parent, to want to safeguard our children against the monsters that really do exist and to stand in the gap to protect them. With everything we’ve got…

It’s a fear that shifts even when they’ve grown and are on their own, but it will never really go away.

Like the story of the prodigal son, we feasted to celebrate his return. Instead of the fatted calf, we had pizza, chips and chocolate (O Henry!) Youngest Son has had to patiently endure several discussions, and lots of hugs and kisses. He made up his co-op time on Saturday. We will be getting him a cell phone and this time, he promises to keep it charged and take it with him!!

I read Psalm 121 to Youngest Son almost every day when he was on the way. It reminded me that God would watch over him always, from the moment he was conceived to the day he takes his last breath.

We are so thankful for a caring friend, who literally hopped in his truck to bring him home. We’re thankful for all the people who, hearing what was going on, prayed with us. We are thankful for a loving Heavenly Father who watched over him.

We have so much for which to be thankful every day.

The Lord will keep you from all harm- He will watch over your life;  the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

Ps. 121:7-8

Somewhere there’s tea…

05 Monday Jul 2021

Posted by jennsmidlifecrisis in Faith

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Tags

#whatsinmycup, Bible, faith, tea, tea addict, tea lover, tea photography, what's in my cup


I’m not really a “stick my head in the sand” kind of person, but it’s true. I don’t watch the news. I hear enough in general conversation, or something on Facebook will tweak my interest and I’ll investigate, but I don’t often seek it out. There are thing I’ve known a long time. I know there is evil in the world. There is hatred and discrimination, and a terribly long history of it.

It breaks my heart.

It makes me anxious.

And afraid.

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but one of power, love, and sound judgment.

1 Timothy 1:7

So while I live in this world, I keep myself separated from it by not immersing myself in every thought that Kim Kardashian has (most of them are not golden!), or filling my head with images of death and destruction.

I am also not oblivious to the world. I mourn and pray. I teach my children to live with integrity and love. I endeavour daily to be an active minister of reconciliation for the past, a person of peace in the present, and a harbinger of hope for the future. It’s not enough, but it’s a place to start. And if we never start, we will never move forward.

There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea’s asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there’s danger, somewhere there’s injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold.

Sylvester McCoy

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #22

03 Thursday Jun 2021

Posted by jennsmidlifecrisis in Faith, Foolishness

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, disasters, faith, humour, music, singing, worship


Dear Diary – My weekly Michael’s flyer arrived in my inbox today. It said “Summer is here!”. Meanwhile, it’s the end of May and I’m watching it snow outside! I took a video clip of the lilacs dancing in the breeze, as large snow globs fell from the sky, but I can’t seem to post it here. I took still photos as well, but they don’t begin to capture the horror! By the time it was thick enough for a good photo, I was too depressed. How did it go from deep summer temperatures to this?!? Good thing the cars’ snow tires are still on?

Dear Diary – On Saturday I attended a Worship Conference. I bounced out of bed early, showered, and put on a fresh pair of pjs. I threw my hair in a top-knot, applied some make-up and filled the kettle all the way to the top! From 9 to 5, I sat and swilled with other musicians, pastors and technical peeps worshipping and growing together.

This last year, it seems, has been a year of feast or famine, an extreme spectrum for us all. While some have grown weary from high expectations and great challenges to connect online with their congregations & beyond, others have grown weary from inactivity, loneliness and soul-searching. Both extremes are God’s way of challenging hearts, both in terms of who He is and who we are in Him.

I know that I have wrestled with self-doubt, especially in terms of my place and purpose in my own church home, and in the greater Church. I had left my job in October of 2019 and faced 2020 as a year of personal growth. I adopted the song, “Finish Line” to inspire me to run well. I would dig deeper in the Word. I would take steps to become healthier physically. I would write. And I would see where God was leading next. None of us had any idea that “next” would become an intense time of isolation, separation and mourning. I have dug deeper in Word and that has been my source of strength and joy. I know God is moving. Even in my life, as I continue to wait to see what’s “next”.

The second speaker, Christy Nockels, singer/songwriter, talked about life on the road. She was living “the dream” but also reaching a point of complete exhaustion. She just wanted to go “home”. It was during a time of rest that she realized that her fatigue was God’s way of rescuing her. She had everything she thought she wanted, but not what she needed most: Him. She talked about how a ready heart can look like an exhausted heart, because you have come to a place where you are ready to lay it all down and rest in Him. When we live from God, instead of for God, and when we learn to love and been seen by Him, we come home. The enemy keeps us busy so we are ineffective; God offers us rest so that He can propel us forward.

She also said “God unfolds dreams bigger than our own”. That just blows my mind, and it makes my heart ache. I don’t know what my dreams are…except to say they are to follow His dreams. And perhaps that is enough.

I also joined a break-out session for women in ministry called Boldness, with Leah Andrade. What a phenomenal woman! She said this: “You are chosen by God, divinely woven together to bring change to the world with your unmatchable story” and “your fabric is woven with God’s purpose”. O Diary…my story is pretty unremarkable, but it’s exciting to know that there is so much more going on that just what I see on the surface. To be reminded that I was chosen feels like a hug around all those places inside that hurt. I can feel the rejection and the longing to be loved melting away and being replaced by a sense of belonging. I feel hope and joy, and yes, peace. Even peace to wait. Something is coming and I want to be ready to run…

And me? I’m a mess. I’m nothing and have nothing: make something of me. You can do it; you’ve got what it takes – but God, don’t put it off.

Psalm 40:17

Dear Diary – I’m not gonna’ lie. Slipping from the softness of my bed at 6:30 Sunday morning was hard! It hurt! I wondered if it was worth it.

I had showered and laid out my clothes the night before. All I had to do was get dressed, fix my hair, apply make-up and make a large tea before heading out the door at 7:30 so I’d arrive for set-up on time. I had been asked to play with a worship team at another church. Services are still limited to 10 people so I felt comfortable in that environment. We were spread out and only 2 of us would be unmasked, and only while we were singing. I was going to get to sing and play, and not irritate anyone while doing it.

Set-up/rehearsal ran late and with 3 minutes until the start of the live service, I had to race to the restroom. I should have waited and slipped out during the sermon (sorry Pastor)! I had 20 seconds to get my in-ear monitors in. They had to be in place because, unlike the worship teams at my home church, this team played with tracks. That meant you can’t go off course or juggle your timing. You have to be precise. In addition, the only sound in the room came through the-in ear monitor…the vocals, drum, guitar and piano, which I was playing. And I was the first instrument to start with the song.

I felt like I was in a Mr. Bean skit. As the technician counted down from the back, I was scrambling to plug in my “ears”. I might have made it…had I remembered to take my face mask off first. The same thing happened at my home church 2 weeks before, as I wrestled with a face mask, 2 in-ear pieces, and a mic that clipped over one ear. I didn’t make it for the closing song, but I could hear the other musicians so I could manage. But with the only sound coming from in the in-ear, I was doomed!

I ripped the mask from my face and holding the plug by one ear, I counted. When it was time to start playing, I dropped the plug and played the first 4 bars. I could only hope that I played the correct ones! I spent the remainder of the first verse wrestling to get these things in, and praying it wasn’t all being caught on camera. I was horribly embarrassed; I’d never be able to face these people at the end of the service.

That’s when the hotflash started. It began with prickling around the back of my neck and spread into my armpits and up my face. Instead of looking like a pasty-white zombie, I was going to resemble a tomato! My hands started to shake as the back of my knees grew damp. And I wondered, what else can go wrong?

By the time we started the third song, the flush had died down. I was thankful we wouldn’t be sitting together because I was certain I no longer smelled like a rose. I allowed myself to set aside all the distractions and just worship.

As we moved into the interlude where would build toward the bridge by adding layers of complexity, our in-ear monitors went dead. I saw the lead singer stiffen and heat rising up the back of her neck. The guitarist stopped strumming. We knew the track was still playing live, and every note I was playing, but we had NOTHING! In 7 bars, the bridge would start. Would the lead singer keep going, hoping that our timing wasn’t off? Would she apologize and cite technical difficulties? Would it magically fix itself in time?

7 bars passed and I kept playing open chords. By now, the guitarist had indiscreetly turned to look at the drummer. The lead singer was madly communicating with the drummer with her eyeballs. So I glanced over too. By now, it was already past awkward. It had to be obvious to those watching that something was wrong!

But the lead singer was able to reset the track to the bridge and we had sound again. We continued on… we finished the song. The pastor prayed and introduced a short missions video. As soon as the video began, the drummer shouted “I’m so sorry”. One drumstick had gone flying (we watched it later on the video and it was hilarious) and he was preoccupied with how to discreetly pick it up. He knew he had lost the track but it wasn’t until the lead singer glanced over with fear in her eyes, that he realized he had hit the main power switch!

Needless to say, technology is great…when it works.

I picked up Tim Horton’s on the way home. I figure I deserved it after my early morning. And unlike 2 weeks ago when I treated myself to Tim’s, I got it home in one piece without spilling it and ruining my sweater! Too bad they gave me black coffee instead of black steeped tea!

I won’t be impressed with technology until it can download food.

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #8

25 Thursday Feb 2021

Posted by jennsmidlifecrisis in Faith, Foolishness

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, faith, friends, humour, loss


Dear Diary -I stood on the bathroom scales this week and it says I”ve gained weight. There goes my theory that my clothes were shrinking in the closet and dresser drawers. Afterall, I haven’t worn most of them for a year. I don’t think the scale is broken, but if it isn’t kinder next time, it will be!

Dear Diary – On Saturday, Hubby and I watched an episode of Home Town, which I PVR when there’s a free preview. I love this young, sweet couple and their devotion to restore a house and build a home. They also salvage, re-purpose and work within a budget! All good stuff!

Hubby started looking at real estate and found the PERFECT place for us, only 10 minutes from my folks. I have always dreamed of living in one of the many limestone or red brick farm houses in and around my small town. So it’s not wonder we fell deeply in love with a gorgeous restored old limestone church. This beautiful home was obviously a labour of love. They retained the beautiful woodwork, the tower, the arches, the stained glass windows. Every detail enhances its natural beauty. I love the soaker tub next to an arched window, and the French door leading from the main floor master bedroom to a 3 season room. I love the fire pit. I love the custom wrought iron gate. I love the country landscape and I could learn to live with the pool. And if we sold our house at the top end in the current market, we could probably afford it, mortgage-free. We’d have a house but no income, and we’d lose it all.

Instead, we’ll just let our hovel house here, be our home.

Home is a comfort and home is a light, a place to leave the darkness outside
Home is a peaceful and ever full feeling, a place where the soul safely hides

Michael Card, Home

Dear Diary – I excused myself to use the “ladies’ room”, then muttered mockingly under my breath, “why are you using it? You’re no lady”. Little Guy burst out laughing. “Good one,” he said, “I was just thinking, we all use it so does that mean you think we’re all ladies?”.

Dear Diary – It’s always wonderful to find out you are memorable! I don’t think that’s happened to me before. I went to my 12 year old eye doctor this week, and he remembered that I play Overwatch. He remembered the D’Va text notication on my cell phone. He also remembered a 30 second conversation we had last year when I accosted him in the parking lot to ask what characters he played. I guess it’s true of gamers –

The bond we have is much deeper than the game we play.

Patrick Willis

Dear Diary – My parents read about the perfect cat for me. I would love, love, love to get a cat who is past the crazy kitten stage and loves to cuddle. But Hubby hates cats. Just to see their reaction, I told the boys about Moustache anyway. I mentioned that he needed a home with no other pets and no small children. Little Guy piped up, “then what are we going to do about you…small child?”

I get it! I’m short!

Dear Diary – Once in awhile I have to waste energy doing housework. I started cleaning out under the bathroom sink and found 5 bottles of men’s body wash. So, for the foreseeable future, I’m going to smell like a man. One day I’ll smell like a forest, the next an Irish spring. And how, exactly, does an icy mist smell? I just hope those Axe commercials aren’t accurate and I get swarmed with hot women every time I leave the house.

It all balances out too. Hubby is starting to smell like a woman. He’s been using my hand lotion, and a cloud of shea butter follows him everywhere!

Dear Diary – My dear friend of almost 30 years died this week. She was diagnosed with cancer barely 3 months ago.

I met Suzanne in college & careers and we instantly bonded. When she moved away 2 years later, we kept in touch, writing looong letters. Those letters allowed us to prayerfully carry each other through some very dark times in our lives.We lost touch a couple of years ago, then out of the blue, she sent me a message asking me to pray. That message was followed by a handwritten letter, scanned and emailed to me. The best way to connect the new and the old! She had drifted from the Lord and He had woken her up. We picked up right where we had left off.

She was the special kind of friend that I could share anything with, without fear or shame. She loved me when I was most vulnerable and I always knew my heart was safe with her. I am so thankful for the assurance that she is safely in the Father’s arms now, and our friendship will never be over. I loved her so much and miss her terribly already.

June 29, 1996

And friends are friends forever if the Lord’s the Lord of them
And a friend will not say never ’cause the welcome will not end
Though it’s hard to let you go in the Father’s hands we know
That a lifetime’s not too long to live as friends

Michael W. Smith, Friends

Sweetness & Light

18 Monday Jan 2021

Posted by jennsmidlifecrisis in Faith, Food

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Tags

baking, disasters, faith, food, food photography, macro photography, musings, tea, tea cups


I was just reflecting this morning, how our attitudes and circumstances, when reframed and brought out into the light, can actually become something beautiful. Take my disastrous macarons, for example. While they are cracked and dry, and lack colour, a little raspberry buttercream softens the appearance, and makes them a sweet treat. I survived the experience, and I now have an opportunity to learn from my mistakes. And an opportunity to try again.

Maybe even to do better.

All of the experiences in my life have done the same. Sure, my heart bears many scars. Some of my own making. But reframed in the light of God’s love and care, there is beauty too. God softens and moulds the rough places. He adds sweetness. He has helped me survive, and learn, and grow. He has forgiven me, so I can try again.

Maybe even do better.

So I’m wishing you a week filled with sweetness and light…and plenty of tea!

You may think your light is small, but it can make a huge difference in other people’s lives

– Anonymous

2021 in a Word

06 Wednesday Jan 2021

Posted by jennsmidlifecrisis in Faith

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

faith, worship


Today, my talented friend, Marian Beaman, summed up her word for 2020, Beauty, before she shared her word for 2021: Beyond. Instead of focusing on what 2020 wasn’t, she masterfully looked at what it was. I encourage you to read it, for I believe there is always beauty if one chooses to look.

It’s about perspective.

Last year, I started the year with enthusiasm. Having quit my job two months earlier, I felt I was running toward something new and wonderful. A new job? Ministry opportunity? Wherever it was, I was running forward. I latched onto the concept of running with intensity, choosing “Finish line” as my “word of the year”. I even had a theme song.

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize?
Run in such a way as to get the prize.

Corinthians 9:24

I spent the better part of January grieving for my job, and feeling a little lost. It’s hard to run when you’re heart is in your throat.

I began February strong, until the rug was pulled out from underneath me, and I ended up flat on my face. I crawled into God’s lap so He could hold me, and we fought fear in the dark.

In March, Covid hit and the lockdowns began.

Instead of running toward a finish line, I seemed to spend more time just sitting still. In retrospect though, I was running. I was just running to God. I ran to Him with hurts, large and small. I ran to Him with fears and insecurities, needs, questions (so many questions)! Sometimes I ran to Him because it was the sweetest place to be. I knew there was joy and peace, and beauty to sustain even the longest days.

Last Fall, I joined a Zoom Bible study, and I look forward to it resuming next week, even though it means daily homework. (Bonus: I get to see my Mom online!) This week, as I pondered my “word” for the week, the only one that came to mind was “lost”. Probably it was the best word to describe how I felt, but it isn’t the right word. I know that.

I started my homework for the study yesterday. It began in 1 Kings 9. King Solomon had completed his commission to build the Temple and his palace in Jerusalem. It took him 20 years. Perhaps after spending so many years focusing on such a great undertaking, King Solomon felt a little lost too.

There were a number of reasons that I felt it was time to leave my job, a job I loved. One of the reasons that I remained so long was that I had been given a commission, and I remained until its completion. I’m thankful it didn’t take 20 years.

Then God spoke to him, reminding him of the promise God had made 20 years earlier, if Solomon remained faithful and obedient.

Faithful ˈfāth-fəl
1. Steadfast in affection or allegiance; loyal
2: firm in adherence to promises or in observance of duty; conscientious
3: given with strong assurance; binding
4: true to the facts, to a standard, or to an original

merriam-webster.com

Solomon was never given such a large undertaking again. Instead, He lived His remaining days ruling His kingdom faithfully and wisely, according to God’s statutes. Perhaps 2021 will be filled with new opportunities and adventures. Or maybe just more challenges. Or perhaps nothing spectacular at all. My kingdom is small. My impact on the world is small. And I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing, but I know who I am called to be: faithful.

It’s a very good word.

And there’s a loyalty that’s deeper than mere sentiments
And a music higher than the songs that I can sing
The stuff of Earth competes for the allegiance
I owe only to the Giver of all good things

So if I stand let me stand on the promise that you will pull me through
And if I can’t, let me fall on the grace that first brought me to You

Rich Mullins, If I Stand

Dear Quarantine Diary #38 – Part 1

23 Wednesday Dec 2020

Posted by jennsmidlifecrisis in Faith

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Tags

Christmas, covid-19 diary, dear diary, faith


This week I’ve felt like I’m a roller coaster. Difficult decisions were made and plans rearranged. Every day seemed filled with new changes and challenges. There has been heartache, and hard work, and more nights falling asleep on damp pillows, than not.

This pandemic has done more than interrupt my routine. It has toyed with my emotions, broken my sleep, and stolen my joy.

Everything is topsy-turvy, and while I’ve come to enjoy some “adventure” in my life, I’m still so much happier riding the Merry-Go-Round than a Roller Coaster.

On Saturday I went for a walk in the snow. It was large, fluffy flakes coming straight down, the kind that piles up on your hat and sticks in your braids. The streets were empty and it was crisp and peaceful. It gave my mind time away from the running to-do list and the ache in my heart as I wrestled between rocks and hard places.

It gave space for God to speak…and for me to listen.

God reminded me of another woman whose life was interrupted.

Mary was an ordinary girl dreaming of her husband, her home, and babies. Then she was visited by an angel with an incomprehendable request. Her love for and trust in God made it easy to answer, but it came at a cost. It didn’t always seem fair. There was probably a whole gammet of emotions. And the future held so many unknowns.

The circumstances around that first Christmas weren’t “normal” or perfect. God’s plan for salvation, from the beginning of time, arrived in a barn on a cold, dark night, to a young couple far from the comforts of home and family.

Immanuel – God With Us.

Life is interrupted, but God is still moving.

Life is interrupted, but love and joy, and wonder still exist.

Little about this Christmas is normal or perfect either. The tree, the lights, the gifts, the goodies – even the time with family – may all be part of the celebrations, but they aren’t the most important parts of Christmas. It’s a time, like Mary and Joseph, and the Shepherds, to look into the face of God and worship. It’s time to acknowledge our need and His presence in our mixed-up, messy lives. I needed that reminder.

O come, all ye faithful…come and behold Him
Born the King of angels
O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.

Thanksgiving Blessing

12 Monday Oct 2020

Posted by jennsmidlifecrisis in Faith, Food

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

#whatsinmycup, blessing, Fall, nature, picnic, tea, thanksgiving, whatsinmycup


Lord, make us truly thankful all your blessings,
and bless those who sip tea with me today.

Amen

Happy Thanksgiving!

Friday’s Tune: Turn Your Eyes

04 Friday Sep 2020

Posted by jennsmidlifecrisis in Faith

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faith, Friday's Tune, hymns, music


Today’s tune is a surprise, even to me. It’s been a tough week, and this old hymn, first published in 1918 by Helen Lemell, has been an anchor. I can remember singing it as a kid and being confused by the line “and the things of earth will grow strangely dim”. How could the things around me, the trees, my house, my toys, just fade? I knew it wasn’t by magic; I knew about miracles and Jesus’ power. Was it like drifting off to sleep?

As I’ve grown older, I have understood the deeper meaning. That when I take my eyes off Jesus and focus instead on the things the world values, I lose intimacy in my relationship with Christ. I become proud and arrogant, going my own way, being swayed by “fine-sounding arguments”. I get beaten up and overwhelmed. I lose sight of Who I am to follow and to Whom I belong. I become no longer who I was made to be, and to serve as I’ve been called to serve.

But if I focus on Jesus only, the opinions, the conspiracies, the craziness of the world will fade away. I can have lasting peace and joy. Don’t get the wrong impression. I’m not a naive, “airy-fairy, ignore-it-and-it-will-go-away” person. I am not living in fear. I am not afraid to speak up, in love. I hope I am wise enough to know when to shut up. I have a choice in Who and what I listen to, and I choose Jesus.

May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. Gal. 6:14

Turn Your Eyes

Friday’s Tune: In the Silence

28 Friday Aug 2020

Posted by jennsmidlifecrisis in Faith

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Tags

faith, music, poem


I haven’t shared a Friday’s tune in a few weeks, but it isn’t because I haven’t been singing! Sometimes it’s better to take a break from writing, than to force it and lose joy in the process. 🙂

I hesitated to write today. Sharing something you wrote requires a degree of vulnerability and this song is one I wrote. It’s so easy to let the opinions of others steal your joy or crush your soul. But I have been singing this all week.

I have been frustrated by the on-going opinions and “theories” related to Covid-19. In particular, those restrictions that are viewed as restriction of rights. I believe some of the restrictions are necessary to protect one another in love, and are for a season. I get tired of “entitled” people spewing poison and creating conflict. Some just for the sick pleasure of doing so.

Worship, especially music through worship, is important to me. I can’t imagine attending a church service without singing because that is one of the greatest forms of expression, for me. But if I’m asked to refrain for a season, then I will. I will sing in my heart when I’m in public, and I will sing with all the breath in my lungs when I’m at home (or in the car)! You’ve been warned! 🙂

It might have been on my mind Saturday night as I slept. I had my frequent Saturday night nightmare. I am panicking!! I’m late for church, I’m leading, and my sheet music has vanished. I’m supposed to provide the offertory as well. Just me. So as we rushed out the door to get to the church (this time I wasn’t even in the building yet), I started to write a song…and I woke up with the first 2 lines still in head.

I’m not a morning person. It was 6 a.m. and my eyes were still heavy with sleep. But I rolled out and foraged in the dark for a notepad and pen…

If there’s no music, then I will worship in the silence
I will soak in the reverence of Your majesty
And in the silence, I will glory in Your splendour
I will wonder at Your depths of love for me.

If there’s no music, then I will worship in the silence
I will whisper the name of Jesus, He is King
And in the silence, I will praise You for Your goodness,
I will marvel at Your depths of grace to me.

In the quiet, when I’m trusting You
You are my strength, my joy
In the quiet, I hear You calling me
I know Your voice
My heart and soul will always sing to You

If there’s no music, I will worship in the silence
I will wonder at Your mercy, how You lifted me to stand
In the silence, I will tell You how I love You
How much I need You in the silence, make me whole
I am Yours

(c) Jenn Simpson, August 23, 2020
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