Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #29

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, faith, humour, summer camp

Dear Diary – This week, every day feels like Monday because this week is VACATION BIBLE CAMP!

Camp: The only place where “you’re so weird” is considered a compliment!

It means getting up before 7 and getting in the car by 7:45. On the first morning, my radio alarm was singing “It’s a Beautiful Morning” by the Rascals. I distinctly remember snarling, “Is it? Is it really?”.

Covid requires additional planning and preparation so everyone stays safe, and all that takes time. Ash is an amazing wife, Mom and teacher, and she was instrumental in putting this week together! Camp starts at 9 and ends at noon, which means we’re all moving the whole time to make this the best experience for the 40 campers. Others years, camps have had over 100 kids. I’ll admit…I’m finding the 40 enough of a challenge!

I am really excited to share this experience with Little Guy. I was shocked when I casually mentioned that he was invited to help out in the sound booth if he was interested…and he was interested! This is the kid who will sleep past 2 p.m. if you don’t wake him. True to his word, he’s been ready to go every morning. He’s even pants, not pj bottoms!

I’m up. If you’re expecting bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, go catch a squirrel!

This year, I was asked to reprise my role as Ima Victor. I’m pretty sure my performance as a spunky, nerdy, spastic eight-year old with a serious lisp will never be “academy award-worthy” but it seems to make people laugh. And after years of tears, I’m ready to share that laugh. My comedy course instructor said that if you’re playing a character, commit! So I am committed to being the best “IMA” ever. I’ve really enjoyed working with my friend, “Captain Gary” again. We’ve been through a lot together – from “music wars” to “exploding space ships”. I’m excited for him as he starts a new job, but I’ve missed just hanging out. My friend is just as committed to his character, Captain Gary so I never know quite what to expect. Like a ballerina, I’m always on my toes.

Or in the case of the end of day 1’s skit, not on my toes but over his shoulder! I’ve gained a few pounds (and they’ve brought friends) since we did this skit two years ago. I didn’t think he could do it. I suggested he just drag me out by one foot.

Maybe more pics later?

Speaking of commitment, my friend suggested, last minute, that I could teach the kid vid/memory verse station as Ima. So I did. Now I have to act like a zany kid along with all the other zany kids, and speak with a lisp ALL MORNING. I rarely get a chance to grab a drink or hit the restroom, and by the end of the morning, I’m out of energy, but I’m committed. I do all the actions to the songs and I shout at the top of my lungs too. It’s one week a year, and honestly, it feels good to just let loose and have fun!

Growing old is inevitable. Growing up is optional.

Unknown

Did I mention this is at a different church? I wonder what kind of first impression I’m making?

On Monday, after I had checked in, I went to the Ladies’ Room to put on my costume. I said “hello” to the other lady who was just washing up and headed into my stall. I closed the door. I hung my purse on the hook. And the lights went off. The other lady had turned out the light on her way out!

Seriously? Didn’t I just say “Hi” 10 seconds before?

There is no light in that Ladies’ Room. Not even under the crack in the door. I stood there in the darkness weighing my options. I could either a) stand there in the dark and hope that someone would turn on the light. But what if no one came? Would they never think to look for me here? Would the skit go on without me? Would they assume I had developed serious stage fright and I had fled the building? Or b) I could make my way to the door and hopefully, find the light switch.

It was cool and dark in that stall, and I was feeling very tired, but I opted for b). I carefully set down my tote bag with my costume and slid it to the side. Then I reached for the door handle of the stall. But all I could feel were straps and keys. Ridiculously, I started to feel a little panicked in the darkness. The walls of my tiny cavern started to get closer. I started to get hot, which meant I started to sweat. The mask on my face started to press against me, and I thought “get a grip woman”. Afterall, other women have been trapped in the loo and have managed to survive the experience, even laugh about it.

They’re very brave!

It took awhile but eventually I found the lock on the door and I tiptoed my way in the direction of the lightswitch. I was flooded with relief when it snapped on and I managed to finish my preparations in peace. I can’t imagine trying to put on tie-dye knee highs in the dark! Welcome to our building!

On Monday afternoon, I had to pick up groceries and get the brake light fixed on my car, and the temperature cannot be described as anything but HOT! By the time I got home, I needed a shower and a nap, not necessarily in that order! Hubby woke me up in time to cook dinner.

By Tuesday, I discovered which groups have the “characters”… There’s always one kid who “knows” that my real name isn’t Ima. There’s always two kids who spend the whole time fighting with each other. There’s the one who fidgets, and the one who can’t stop talking, and the one who rolls their eyes like a seasoned teenager. One group is filled with kids and leaders who are “too cool for school”, and one small group with more energy than a hamster on a wheel. I love them all!

Wednesday was smoother…the video took up half my time with each group, which meant I didn’t have to play “Ima Says”, for which my muscles thanked me! Tuesday and Wednesday afternoon involved various errands and appointments again. I needed a nap then too…but there’s never rest for the weary. Or is it the wicked?

Days of the Week:
Monday, Monday #2, Monday #3, Monday #4, Monday#5, Saturday, Pre-Monday

And so dear diary, each morning we are dragging a little more and now it’s to head into Monday #4!

Every day I take a water bottle (filled with iced tea because I totally need the caffeine). But at the rate it’s going, I feel like I might need something stronger by Friday. Like coffee.

From Coffee Coffee Coffee on Facebook

Somewhere there’s tea…

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

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

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

Writing Letters

Tags

faith, family, letters, stamping, writing

It’s true – the art of writing letters is slowly becoming a lost art. Who has the time to put thought on paper (once you find some paper)? Then you have to find an address, a stamp and even a mailbox! Sometimes it is just easier to send a quick text or post a quick message on Facebook. I get that! I’m guilty of doing it too.

But once upon a time, I used to write a lot of letters. Hubby and I started our relationship on paper. He was a poor student in another city and phone calls cost money! I wrote crazy stories with small-town caracatures to a homesick friend studying in the city. When our worlds seemed to be crashing down around us, another friend and I encouraged each other by sharing prayers and scripture. Baring our broken hearts to each other, we helped each other breathe in the darkness, until the sun started shining again.

Though housebound during covid, I once again have time to write and have re-discovered the pleasure in putting pen to paper. And for good reason:

Letters are more personal because they contain my effort, my time, and my handwriting. Those notes are often in or tucked into one of my handmade cards, made or chosen with that person in mind. My hope is that I will lift their spirits, and as I work, mine is lifted as well.

They take more time, which means I am more careful as I consider each word and phrase. I can extinguish inflammatory words before I create firenados. With my emotions in check, I am less likely to discourage, hurt, or offend the reader. And when I share my emotions or concerns, I can be concise, sharing the whole story without interruptions and distractions, and leaving other “cans of worms” unopened.

Letters can be read and re-read by the recipient. It gives them time to consider their response, if one is needed. It limits the number of folks who may feel they have a right to weigh in with their opinion or share their story. But most importantly, it may be something that the reader needs to read again and again, a reminder that they are special and they are loved.

Let us all then leave behind letter of love and friendship, family and devotion, hope and consolation, so that the future generations will know what we valued and believed and achieved.

Marian Wright Edelman

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #3

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, faith, humour, sewing, shopping

Dear Diary – I saw the mailman walk by the house this morning. That’s enough social interaction for today.

Dear Diary – A “state of emergency” was declared as of last Thursday but with the exception of school closures, everything pretty much functions as before. We’re supposed to stay home except for “essentials”: medical appointments, grocery and pharmacy pick up, and walks around the block. Arguably, essential means different things to different people. Here was my conundrum: Michael’s, a craft boxstore, is still open, for curbside pick up or delivery, and I’m in need of “spring” fabric. I had planned a trip to Fabricland in January but it is closed. Some would argue that it’s essential I leave home to buy fabric for my business. Others could argue that my business isn’t feeding my family, and therefore isn’t essential. The same argument can apply to furniture stores, home reno stores, etc. In reality, our restrictions are less severe than last March, although Covid is rampant in our province. What do I do?

I’ve ranted before about the disadvantages of online shopping, and fabric is a small market. Thumbnail photos don’t accurately reflect the product. I spent 5 hours on Friday sourcing fabric to stretch my bucks! In addition to colour and print, I had to consider cost, shipping dates, and measurements. There was no standard means of measuring – I had to calculate cost per metre based on inches, yards, centimeters, and feet. Math…no pressure!

Source: trenchcoatsoft.com

I ordered from Michael’s first, swallowing the $15 delivery charge. Then I ordered from Wal-Mart, which had free shipping…but is shipping each fabric swatch… one. at. a. time. Yesterday I received 3 tiny packages of elastic in a large envelope that was so well taped, I got my 20 minute work-out!

The first package arrived 4 days early, sometime after 8 p.m. I picked up the “Your package has been delivered” after 11 p.m. No one had knocked and I was already in bed but I didn’t want it stolen. Anyone who up to no good in my neighbourhood Monday night, I’m sorry I scared you. I had to turn on the porch light to find the package, and I was too lazy to get dressed first. It’s rather chilly outside for a t-shirt and panties.

Normally I’m a flannel-kinda gal. But lately, the dying inferno of my youth has re-ignited, and I’m waking on fire, several times in the night! I would love a smoking hot body, but this is not what I had in mind. I am developing 2 temperature settings – hypothermia and hades! The blankets are on and off, like a cat in the middle of whatever you are doing. Legs in – too hot! Legs out – too cold! One leg out – worried monster under the bed will eat one leg. When will the madness end?

There’s hope, however. The weatherman has predicted an arctic vortex heading our way. He’s afraid for his life, but I’m wondering if it be a life-saver, providing the optimal sleeping temperature.

I don’t think these fellows will mind.

Dear Diary – The sky is gray and it looks like it should be snowing. I know evening will soon be upon us, and I welcome the darkness. It’s like a heavy blanket wrapped around our home, soft and warm, inviting. I should be writing, or sewing, or doing something useful, not just sitting here idly watching the giant pine tree outside the window. The branches are frantically waving at me in the wind. I know it’s a cold wind that bites through winter clothing, and swirls menacingly around the edges. I was outside earlier, and I was happy to be come home.

I feel like those branches, my thoughts constantly moving and my focus swirling about, but I never really get anywhere. I sense frustration creeping in around the edges, and I have to remind myself: patience. Just as I can’t see the wind, I see movement and know it is there. Just as I can’t see Him, I know God is moving and He is there. Not everything is about the destination; it’s also about the journey.

You take a chance every day – getting up in the morning, crossing the street, or sticking your face in a fan.

Lt. Frank Drebin, The Naked Gun

Sweetness & Light

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

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

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.

Friday’s Tune: Resting Place

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faith, Friday's Tune, music

It was the Sunday following the attacks on September 11th, and I was still trying to wrap my mind around it. So we gathered as a congregation, clustered en masse at the altar, praying and worshipping. It was the first time I heard this song taken from Isaiah 66:1-2.

And as I sang, in the midst of the fear and confusion, God whispered in my ear…”Heaven is my throne and earth is my footstool”. What a mental picture! The God of the Universe is so much greater and stronger that this planet is a small piece of furniture in comparison. He is not a God who stays at a distance, but One who saw each tear and heard each cry that day, and this day. I could trust that He would hear us in the days ahead, and I could trust Him, God of the Angel Armies, to keep us safe.  I don’t ever need to be afraid.

Happy Weekend!

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Daphne Rademaker (c) 1991 Mercy / Vineyard Publishing (Admin. by Capitol CMG Publishing (Integrity Music, David C Cook)) Vineyard Songs Canada (Admin. by Capitol CMG Publishing (Integrity Music, David C Cook))