To Honor Him

"Our finest gifts to bring.... so to honor Him....I am a poor boy too.... I played my best for Him."

The words from the Christmas song "The Little Drummer Boy" have had a lot of significance for me this Christmas season. I have heard many versions over the years but it was listening to Josh Groban's version this year which made these words really stand out. Most versions start quietly as we catch a glimpse of the drummer boy coming before the baby Jesus with nothing to "offer the newborn king." The music begins to build in volume as he realizes he can play his drum and asks Mary if he can play for Him. And as Mary nods, the music climaxes as the spotlight focuses on the boy playing his drum and baby Jesus smiling at him. A gift well received.

Josh Groban's version is perhaps a unique interpretation and thus gives a different perspective. (Or maybe it's just where I am at this year.) He begins quietly but the music begins to swell as the drummer boy realizes he has the gift of his drum playing to give. Voices echo "to honor Him" several times. Then the music goes back to the quiet tones as he plays for the baby Jesus. And while one may think the emphasis is in the wrong place, I beg to differ.

When I was in grade school, for several Christmas assemblies, we were shown the cartoon version of this song. It is the story of a little drummer boy whose family was killed by robbers and he managed to run away with his pet lamb and drum. The three kings found him on their way following the star and took him with them. He was going to give the baby his pet lamb. As they reached Bethlehem, the Roman soldiers rushed through the street and the lamb was trampled under the feet of their horses. The drummer boy was devastated because now he had no gift. Yet still he came to baby Jesus and played his drum which ended up to be a great gift. Even some 35 years later, I still see these images clearly when I hear the song played.

So this year, thanks to Josh Groban, I am struck by the fact that while I may not have any "fine gifts" to bring - whatever I may think they have to be - the most important thing is that what I do bring, will be an honor to Him. And perhaps the greatest gift which honors Him is to be who I am, who He created me to be, who He has made me now. So I just have to be, to play the instrument of my life, and I will honor Him. And He smiles at me. The gift well received.

Confusing Extremes

Lately, through several experiences, I have been thinking a lot about suffering. In fact, I am consumed by it, fascinated with it and overwhelmed by it. Suffering is a very complex thing - pain and beauty and love combined - especially for those who believe in God. How can I reconcile the coming together of these extremes?

Usually I have to close my eyes as I watch the last days of Christ played out on the screen. I have gotten overwhelmed by the violent suffering which again I think is never to the extent to what it really was. "His appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any man and His form marred beyond human likeness" Isaiah 52:14. Though I believe Mel Gibson's "The Passion" is the closest yet to what really happened. But recently, thanks to God-Tube, I have seen clips of the various portrayals of Christ's suffering put to different songs. I was transfixed - it seemed I couldn't get enough of it. I watched them over and over again. I ask myself "Why?"

I guess now I see the look of love in Christ's eyes. The blood, grime and sweat pouring down His face - yet there is love in His eyes. What powerful images! The disciples watching His strong, weathered hands breaking the bread and pouring the wine. The look as He tenderly washes their feet. The knowing as He sends Judas off to his betrayal. The love and sorrow as He looks at Peter as he denies Him. The look of Christ - as the nails are pounded through His hands; pain yet love. The look at His mother Mary and the thief on the cross beside Him; such compassion and understanding. Oh how such sorrow and love flow mingled down!

Yet still I struggle to reconcile it all. This God, who allowed His Only Son to suffer so and who allows me to suffer too, is a God of love. How can this be? He, who leads me in green pastures and beside the still waters, leads me also into great pain and allows the darkness to come. Somehow though, there is great love displayed in both. That is the mystery of God!

African Civil War Reality

As I watched Blood Diamonds, Hotel Rwanda and Beyond the Gates - all movies which detail some of the war crises that happen in Africa, I find myself angered by comments of North Americans that these movies depict too much graphic violence. Movies, news clips and documentaries cannot even come close to depicting the actual horror, fear and suffering the people of countries like Sierra Leone, Rwanda, Sudan and Congo have faced. We want to shield and protect ourselves from the horrible tragedies that have befallen these people and the immense scars that the survivors live with. We shudder at photos of Africans with missing limbs knowing they were brutally cut off with machetes. We are shocked by photos of young boys carrying machine guns who had no choice. We are upset by photos of young women looking ten times their age because of their suffering. We say "Stop. This is way too violent."

But this IS the reality of the people who have lived through these atrocities. Even the movies cannot accurately portray the depth of what these people have endured. It is watered down to protect the Western public. People make excuses that it is Hollywood making things more dramatic than it really was. But no - read any survivor's account, listen to their voices quaver in fear, look at the sadness in the face of a boy with no hands - these things really did happen and continue to happen. These are real people, real events and real stories.

When will we allow ourselves to even think of these horrors? When will we acknowledge this suffering? When will we speak up for justice for these innocent people? When will we step out of our comfortable lives and feel some of this pain? When will we stop hiding behind the excuses of "too much violence," "that's Hollywood," and "it's just a movie?" When will we say "I'm sorry we didn't care to end this violence. We were too busy trying to protect ourselves."?

I do not want to forget the images I saw as watered down as they were. I do not want to hide my head in the sand. I don't want to say it's so far away that it has nothing to do with me. I do not want to stop feeling their pain. I do not want to white out the photos of the survivors.

I wonder what I can do. Money seems so inadequate. Prayer sometimes seems so small. Going is expensive and risky. Talking seems so empty. I can state the truths. I can let some of their pain touch me. I can thank God that His grace has protected me so far from such suffering. But most of all, I can remember. I want to remember. I don't want to forget. These are people just like me, these are my brothers and sisters, my fellow companions on earth. In some little way, I can be their voice.

Time Flies

It's a scary thought to think of the last time I wrote here. Yet, what has been on the tip of my fingertips over the past month is about this very subject - TIME ! And it flew so fast that I hadn't had enough of it to write about it!

"If I could turn back time..." (the words of a popular song)

"Stop the world, I want to get off." (I think from another song)

"Lost, yesterday, somewhere between Sunrise and Sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered, for they are gone forever." (Horace Mann, "The Father of Education")

"The sun stopped in the middle of the sky and delayed going down about a full day. There has never been a day like it before or since, a day when the Lord listened to a man." (story of Joshua and the Israelites fighting the Amorites, Joshua 10:13-14)

In the past two months, these phrases have been very much in the forefront of my mind. How much I wanted to turn back the clock 10 min so that I could make it to my appointment on time. How much I wanted to stop the crazy whirlwind of my life to just take time to walk in the fallen leaves and to catch my breath. How much I wanted those two hours that I slept past my alarm. How much I had hoped God would listen to me and hold the sun still for a day so that I could get caught up.

Never before has time seemed to go so fast. "Wait." I screamed as summer drew to its close and I wanted that one last walk by the creek. "Wait." I screamed as classes began signalling another year towards the end of my degree. "Wait." I screamed as the leaves changed color and fell off the trees. "Wait." I screamed as I heard Christmas songs being played the day after Halloween.

Why now, does time seem to be going so fast? Is it because there are more grey hairs on my head? Is it because I have allowed myself to be so consumed with things I think I have to do? Is it that the world is spinning faster - maybe due to global warming? Is it because I realize certain things which are so precious seem to be slipping away? Is it because I have taken on more than I can handle?

I apologize for ending this now - I have once again ran out of time - and I have not yet figured out where it all went to and why it flies so fast! And I even had an extra hour today as we turned back the clocks!

DVD Movie Special Features

Last night I watched Blood Diamonds which is a movie about the civil war in Sierra Leone when diamonds were discovered there. I will write another blog about the movie but I want to write about the special features. I don't know how many of you take time to watch the special features that the technology of DVDs offer which are not usually on videos. They usually are interviews with the director or the actors and sometimes discuss how scenes of the movies are filmed. For me it is quite fascinating.

Now you can watch the movie all over again with the director commentating on every scene. I started to do that with Blood Diamonds last night. I have to say that I was rather disappointed to hear that most of the scenes were filmed in other countries than Sierra Leone. But I understood this in some sense as this country is far from settled or restructured since the civil war. To hear scene after scene being said - this was in Mozambique, we added the mountains, palm trees, water to make it look like Sierra Leone was quite discouraging. I decided I preferred to let the special features be and leave my memories of this powerful movie untainted by commentaries.

I have also watched a few times The Last Sin Eater which is a powerful movie based on a book by Francine Rivers. The Christian message of Jesus forgiving our sins is so strong and very clear. The courage of the young girl to spread this message is inspiring. The interviews at the end are with Michael Langdon Jr who directed the film - a strong Christian who desires to produce Christian movies. It was encouraging to know there is someone out there who is making a stand in Hollywood. Also striking were the non-Christian actors talking about how good it was to act in a wholesome movie and how they were touched by this message of forgiveness. This is definitely a must-see for everyone.

I also watched Breach which is based on the true story of an American FBI agent who sold secrets to the Russians. It is not a real high action movie but is very intense as the spy and the junior man trying to trap the spy duke it out in a battle of the minds. The special features reveal that the junior FBI man who was in the real life situation was actually the screen writer and consultant for the movie. This showed that there was real validity in the movie. It also discussed how the actors were able to act the characters and develop this intensity between them which added to my appreciation of the quality of the movie.

So I will continue to watch the special features despite my disappointment with those of Blood Diamonds. I appreciate movies and am fascinated to hear how they have been made and what goes on behind the scenes.

Crazy Yet Fruitful Observations

Recently I have been noticing some kind of funny contradicting things and I'd like to share three of them:

First, I have been interested in the word "Shalom." My spiritual director uses it to close his emails and asks for it in his prayers for me. I understand it to mean that he is blessing me with God's presence on my whole being. Rob Bell, a prominent pastor and writer states "It is the presence of the goodness of God, the presence of wholeness and completeness." It is such a deep word to me and brings true peace. I decided to Google it and see what others had to say. You can imagine my surprise, laughter and then sadness when I saw -"Shalom - Buy it on E-Bay." How ridiculous it is that one can believe that shalom can be bought. Yet how thankful I am that this true, deep sense of peace comes so freely from God and I only have to ask for it.

Second, my new neighbour across the hall put out an unusual welcome mat. It simply has the word "LEAVE" emblazoned across it. Okay it is a funny conversation piece. Every time I see it, I think of the great contradiction - a mat that is supposed to make a guest welcome and appreciated states a total opposite meaning. I am so glad God's welcome mat says "Seek and you shall find" and "Knock and the door will be opened." And most of all, I am thankful that every time I walk out of my door and see my neighbour's mat, I am reminded that God's arms are open wide and I am most welcome to walk straight into them. He will never ask me to leave even as a joke.

Thirdly, my old washing machine and dryer were replaced with a new set in my apartment. I ran the washing machine for the first time yesterday. When it started to drain the wash water, I realized it sounded like the water was draining outside of the machine. Sure enough, as I rounded the kitchen counter, there was a flood of water coming at me. Fortunately I was able to turn off the machine before all the water emptied out. The maintenance man for the complex arrived almost immediately after I called. I almost laughed out loud when I saw a roll of paper towels tucked under his arm. It appeared that he was going to try to mop up a small flood with a roll of paper towels. I had already put down all the bath and beach towels I owned! Again, I am reminded that when I have a major problem, God comes totally prepared with the power and ability to take care of any mess - no matter how big it is.

Don't we have a great God?

Amazing Battle in Nature Challenges Me to Prayer

Recently on the ABC News website feature called I-Caught there has been a video shot by a tourist on safari in Kruger National Park, South Africa. It shows a herd of water buffalo approaching a water hole and 5 lions crouching ready to spring. The lions manage to separate a baby water buffalo from the herd and they end up in the water. As the lions try to drag the buffalo back to land, a large crocodile joins the fight and tries to pull the buffalo back in the water. The lions win and get the buffalo up out of the water only to have the whole water buffalo herd come all together and several adults rush the lions. One actually flips a lion in the air. Amazingly the baby buffalo gets up and runs to the herd. One by one the lions are chased away. It is a breathtaking video as the buffalo conquer their worst enemy.

My father commented and I have continued to reflect on it - that this is a beautiful image of how Christians and the church can come together and rescue whatever Satan has threatened to take away. That in numbers we are strong against a very formidable enemy. How the power of Christians coming together can wrestle what is precious to us away from the enemy. We can apply this to many things - unsaved people, Christians who are struggling, our personal challenges etc. This incredible example in nature has been a great encouragement and example to me. While I have benefited from the herd protecting me through prayer, I can also be part of the herd, willing to come face to face with enemy to protect those who need help.

Watch for yourself - http://ugv.abcnews.go.com/Player.aspx?id=556758

The Alabaster Box

As I wrote in a previous blog, I was reminded of a poem that I wrote in 2003 when I was asked to speak at a Women's Bible Study. A woman, who was like my second mother, made copies of it to hand out to the women. Unbeknownst to me, she had passed it on to other friends. As I was visiting her in the Hospice during her last week on earth, one of her friends came to visit. I was introduced to her by the family and immediately the friend said "Oh you are the writer of the poem about the alabaster jar." I decided to look it up and have been reflecting on it since. It is funny how I can be so convicted about something at one time in my life and now four years later, I find I am being challenged once again by the same things. Walking with and for Jesus Christ sure is a continuing challenge and I am constantly having to search within myself for things that I dearly hold on to. I have definitely learned that they are much better off when they are at God's feet and out of my hands ....... but it still is hard to let them go.

The Alabaster Box


Ashamed, scorned , her every dream broken
The woman comes to Jesus’ feet.
All that she can give Him are her tears,
Her hair gently caressing His worn feet.
She breaks her alabaster box.
The aroma ascends and fills the room.
It is the last possession that she has
And so she lays it on the feet of Jesus, her Redeemer.

What is in my alabaster box?
The one and only hidden away in my heart.
It holds the pain of broken dreams,
The longings for a husband and a family,
The desires to be accepted and free.
I would lay it at the feet of my King
But it is my last possession to which I cling.
The alabaster box held tightly in my heart.

Jesus reminds me gently to let go
For I will never be free until I do so,
To break the alabaster box
And lay it all at His feet.
I want to hold on to all that is dear
For it is a lot to forget.

So many dreams for myself

Can I let go and lay them broken at His feet?

It shouldn’t be all that hard
For in His presence I abide
Yet still I am afraid.
What healing shall come from Him whom I love
If I would but lay the box at His feet.
For in that box is all that I hold dear
To let it go, I need to know my God is near.

What worship that would be?
To say to God – “It is all here -
My dreams, my hopes and my desires.”
For Him to do as He pleases.
Like the prostitute woman who initiated this act
Forgiven, relieved and worshipful I would be.

LM, August, 2003

Party on the Water

A few days ago at breakfast with my parents, we read the story of Jesus walking on the water together in Matthew 14. I was struck by the similarities and differences of the previous story of Jesus asleep in the boat when a storm came up in Matthew 8. Both times the disciples were afraid. They were in large waves on the lake. Jesus was there but not active in preventing the dangers at first. Both times Jesus says "You of little faith." (NIV) when the disciples and Peter expressed their fear. And Jesus calmed the winds twice. There is a difference though in the disciples' response. The first time they marveled, "What kind of man is this?" The second time they worshiped, "Truly you are the Son of God."

This morning, out of the dark night, I began to wonder. What would have happened if Peter did not look at the wind? What if He kept looking at Jesus' face and did not doubt? I can see him reaching Jesus and Jesus enveloping him in His arms. Imagine the joy. Perhaps they would have danced. What would the other disciples have done? Would they have jumped out and walked on the water too? What a party it would have been! Can you see them cavorting on the waves?

Oh, if I doubted a little less, to know Jesus as He truly is in the midst of the waves and to be able to walk through the fear and to keep my eyes fixed on Jesus' face.

Call to Follow Him

I spent this weekend with one of my closest friends from my time in Africa. I was really shocked as we walked through the grocery store at how comfortable I had become with all the options. I also relived many of my memories from my time in Africa as she shared her experiences. Today, I met a lady who reminded me of a poem I had written. As I looked for that poem, I came across this one which I wrote four years ago. I was challenged once again by the words.

Call to Follow Him

Driving to pay the bills at the local bank.
Driving to Tim Hortons for that much desired coffee.
Driving to the grocery store for next week's needs.
Driving to the beach to spend a day in the sun.
The rich drive on with their burdens in the trunk.

Walking with today's firewood collected in the bush.
Walking with baskets of harvested millet and corn.
Walking with basins of water from the well.
Walking with clothes clean to enter God's house.
The poor walk on with burdens on their heads.

Jesus walking to the temple to preach God's Word.
Jesus walking to the house of Zaccheus amidst the scorn.
Jesus walking to the Samaritan woman at the well.
Jesus walking and a woman is healed with a touch of His robe.
Jesus relieving many of the burdens carried by man.

Jesus walking - to His betrayer's kiss.
Jesus walking - bleeding and spit upon.
Jesus walking - carrying His cross.
Jesus walking - knowing well what lay ahead.
Jesus carrying the burden of sin for the world.

Do we dare walk the road that Jesus walked?
The richest of the rich seem to avoid suffering.
The poorest of the poor understand the pain.
Jesus calls us - "My yoke is easy. My burden is light."
Who will dare to walk with Him?

L.M. (Aug, 2003)

Wonders of Creation

While I was in New Brunswick, surrounded by the beauty of God's creation and taking pictures, I found myself looking at the very intricate details of various aspects of God's creations. Once again, as I wrote in a previous blog, I only have to take time to look and there are so many things to see which remind me of the awesomeness of God. Rachel Carson (not sure who she is but she has a great quote!) said, "Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts." I thank God for the gifts of His creation and the fact that I can find renewal and refreshment as I spend time in nature. Here are some of His wonders:

"Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to me, how great Thou art, how great Thou art."

God at the center

While on a spiritual retreat in New Brunswick, I was sitting on the beach. It was not nice and sandy but was full of very smooth rocks of various shapes and colors brought up by the world's highest tides of the Bay of Fundy. I got the idea to pile them up like the Inuit statues. It was a tough task as you had to find the exact center of the rock to place the next one on it or else the pile would topple. It took me many times and some patience to create my stack. As I did it, I was very much aware of the different colors of the rocks - gray, red, green, black etc. These represented the different events in my life. And the thought came to me that as I stack up the events of my life, I need to make that center balancing line to be God -so each would stack up in line with Him. The song rang through my head that I had listened to frequently the week before "Be the center of my soul.." I could explain my thoughts further but I think you can fill in the thoughts as I have - Is God the center of my soul and my life events?

I see His face in every flower

I have been listening to a song recently based on a poem by Joseph M. Plunkett.He led some Irish uprising in the early 1900's and died at age 28, being condemned to death for his activities. One of his poem's verses says,

"I see his face in every flower;
The thunder and the singing of the birds
Are but his voice -- and carven by his power
Rocks are his written words."
(I see His blood upon the Rose)

It is said that Plunkett had some relationship with God being a staunch Catholic. As I have listened to this song many times as I drive to work, I realize how much more I have learned to see God in the things around me.

Last night I saw a deer on the shoulder of the highway. Fortunately it bolted away from the road. But it was a refreshing reminder of God's presence after a long, hard and busy shift in Express Care.

As I go down the stairs from the parking lot to my apartment, I have watched some type of cedar tree as new needles come out at the end of the branches, bright green against the older dark ones. They were so soft as I touched them. I have caught wafts of the cedar smell and somehow the stresses of the day fade away.

There are many little ponds along the roads near my place, some right in front of houses. As I drive, I have always been rewarded with a sighting of a white egret - its reflection perfect in the water where it stood, a great blue heron - standing tall and straight in the way that they only can, or it is a heron flying - wondering how it can look so graceful when their bodies seem so big and their long legs trailing behind them.

As spring is giving away to summer, I have seen many flowers growing wild on the side of the road at different times. It has been fascinating to see one type for a week or so and then another type blooms for a week etc. I bought a rose bush and planted it in a big pot on my balcony. It is a miracle that with the total shade I get there that two buds are forming as it stretches out to find the sun.

The skies are pretty amazing whether it be fluffy white clouds moving gracefully, the deep blues of the clear skies or the varying shades of gray and black as thunderstorms are all around. And the sun poking through the clouds spreading its rays down to the earth which always thrills my soul and seems like that is how it will be when Christ returns. (Okay, I am a bit too caught up in the imagined pictures!)

I was struck this morning that lately I have often complained of the miles I am putting on my car and time spent getting from one place to another since I have moved. I guess my outlook has changed as I remind myself each time that, like the poem says, "God's face is in every flower" and for me in everything I see has His beauty as I look at it in this light.

What an amazing Creator God we have!

Cell Phones and the Bible

I never cease to be amazed with the fact that so many people cannot live without a cell phone. It makes me chuckle that as soon as the pilot touches down, all these various sounds go off around the plane as people are turning their cell phones back on. I have to admit it would be convenient for curbside pickup to let the person driving you know when you have landed especially with planes being late nowadays. Sitting in a meeting, church or a concert, it is totally annoying when a cell phone rings. At the emergency room where I work, patients and family members have their phones stuck to their ears it seems. I had a mother last night who was arguing about someone who put lemons in lemonade, when lemonade is already made of lemons and why would one want to add lemons!! This in itself was humourous but the sad part is that I was trying to give her the discharge instructions for her child and she wasn't even willing to stop the converstion for the two minutes I needed of her time. This happens all the time. I just don't understand how people cannot just for a short amount of time turn their phones off and pay attention to something else.

While surfing the Internet I found this anonymous reflection:

"Wonder what would happen if we treated our Bible like we treat our cell phones.
What if we carried it around in our purses or pockets

What if we turned back to go get it if we forgot it

What if we flipped through it several times a day

What if we used it to receive messages from the text

What if we treated it like we couldn't live without it

What if we gave it to kids as gifts

What if we used it as we traveled

What if we used it in case of an emergency

I was thinking on my way home, got touched by the spirit, so I wrote this so you can hear it. Its just something to think about

Something to make you say hmmmmmmmmmmmmm, and where is my Bible?"

-Anonymous

It really makes me think and feel how sad about what our world has come to. And by the way - I have a cell phone - but my friends are so frustrated with me because it never is on. It is for "emergencies" only - and my first call is a prayer to God anyways!! And now I have to find my little Bible to carry in my purse!

Amazing Love

I have been listening to a praise CD as I travel the roads and one song, which I have known for a while, keeps on touching me. It is "Amazing Love" by Billy James Foote. These are the phrases that hit me:

"I'm forgiven because You were forsaken."
"I'm accepted, You were condemned."
"I'm alive and well, Your Spirit is within me because you died and rose again."

As I hear this sung over and over again, I think of the great contrasts - each phrase starts with a real positive thing for me and is opposed by the depth of what happened to Jesus so that I can have that positive thing. I have been singing this song without really taking in the meaning. I have been forgiven - all my sins washed away, I stand clean before God. For me to have this Jesus was forsaken - God turned His back on Him. He bore the sins of the world. I'm accepted by my Most Holy God, my heavenly Father - because Jesus was condemned, His Father couldn't interact with Him while He was covered by our sins. I'm alive and well - I think of the unhappy people who have chosen to turn their backs on God. I have joy, I have freedom in my heart and I am well because Jesus died. I have His Spirit in me because Jesus rose again. How else to write it:
forgiven - forsaken
accepted - condemned
alive and well - died
Think about it. It brings me to my knees - this "amazing love, how can it be - that You, my King would die for me? --- In all I do, I honor You."

Beauty from ashes

Wow. How time flies as I look at the last time I have posted. There are so many thoughts developing in my heart - it's so hard to get them together to write!

Two weeks ago I attended a joint worship service of the Evangelical Covenant Churches of the greater Detroit area. It was held in an old church in downtown Detroit. The transition phase of my past five years has now really come to a close with my move and topped off with this inspiring service which was also the final step in the beginning of this new phase.

The speaker spoke on the calling from God and His promises found in Isaiah 61:1-4. It has been a passage that has meant a lot to me through the years. The message was centered to challenge Christians to come back to the city of Detroit - to "preach the good news to the poor ... to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes ... the oil of gladness instead of mourning ... and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair." I saw the inner city of Detroit with its unique problems - few other major cities in the US have the same. Driving through the streets - seeing burned out hulks of houses and people steeped in such despair with no hope of rising from it turning to drugs, alcohol and violence. A downtown which survives only because of the arts and the sports complexes. As the pastor quipped "Detroit has put its faith in the wrong "Big Three" (Ford, Chrysler and GM and not the Trinity!). I am challenged to be a part of God bringing beauty from the ashes of the inner city.

But the message also struck the depths of my heart. The pastor emphasized that there cannot be beauty without ashes, there cannot be gladness if there hasn't been mourning, there cannot be praise if there hasn't been despair. Now is the time that God is bringing forth the beauty from my ashes of the past years, my mourning is being turned to gladness and praise is coming from my despair. I want to embrace that fully. I am beginning again. Not to say that there won't be more times of ashes, mourning and despair but the promise is there - encouraging to endure - for out of them will come beauty, gladness and praise.

"They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of HIS splendor" (v.3b). Oh God, may I be a display of YOUR splendor.

"They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations" (v.4) Oh God, make Detroit YOUR city.

A New Home

In a few days, I'll be moving to MI and into a new apartment. This move seems different from other moves I made. I recall moving into my first apartment after graduating back in 1990. It was a new beginning - my career and freedom of school - where life was work and play. Then I shared a house with several friends. It was a place of laughter and good friendships, but temporary as I looked to go overseas. Next was the move to Burkina Faso in West Africa. My little duplex, without electricity, with a tin roof and the bare comforts was home. However I lacked privacy as everyone who came to my door knew exactly what I had been doing and even with the door closed, they would knock persistently. When I came home, after living with my parents for a while, I moved into my current apartment. It was filled with garage sale furniture and all my "doodads" from various aspects of my life. Due to my health, coming home to my apartment meant being flooded with the despair and stress of that day. It was not a haven.

Now, entering a new phase of my life, I am moving once again. After much debate where I should live, it was very clear, that this apartment was to finally be my "own." It will have its comforts - a fireplace (something I've always longed for), a dishwasher, laundry in the unit and walk-in closets! But those are the physical things. I have been preparing for this home to be a refuge, the place where I come home after a busy shift at work, to sit down and say "Ah..h..h. Another day done." Or to come home from church and say "Ah..h..h. Lord, You are so good." This is the first time that my home will be a sanctuary, where God will be ever present. It feels so good!

Don't get me wrong. My new home is a roof over my head but I still know very much that my true home will really be in heaven. This Easter weekend, I was struck by the words of my pastor as he spoke of "the empty cross, the empty tomb and the empty sky." I will find pleasure in my new apartment but I will look to the empty sky, waiting for that day when it will be filled with a flash of blinding light, the great voice and the trumpet call as Christ comes back and I will be truly home for eternity, in the mansion He has prepared for me.

Live God Loud

It has been twice now that I have sat behind the same fellow in church who has worn a bright yellow T-shirt with a kind of bald-headed quirky caricature. Below the face, it says "Live God loud." I have tried to catch him at the end of the service to ask him what this shirt says to him but he leaves in a flash. Meanwhile the phrase has stuck with me and I have asked myself, what does it mean to "live God loud?"

I have to admit I am not "up" on newer slang if that is what it is and I have found it difficult to figure this one out. But the phrase seems powerful in a way to me. If I look at the word "live" it means how I carry out my life - it doesn't just mean the words I say. Like the phrase "that actions speaks louder than words." A lot of times at work, I don't feel like I have the time or opportunity to really strike up conversations about God with co-workers or the patients. But I see more and more that the way I live my life is a testimony in itself. The extra care and interest in someone's life makes a big difference even though I may just have a short interaction with them.

The word "God" is pretty self-explanatory - though I wonder if I mirror as much of God's character as I can. Even in references to the events of my life which I share with my co-workers or even Christian friends, I fail to give God credit for the large part He has played in those events. Do I live my life so others can see the aspects of God in it?

The word "loud" is not a new one. I guess I could look at the opposite which is "quiet." Sometimes it is good to quietly go about my business and let God shine through on His own. Sometimes "loud" can be very annoying to me being the quieter type of person that I am. But as I have thought this word through in this phrase, it is a good one. People should be able to very clearly and obviously see God acting on my life and in the way I carry out my daily activities. Yes, "loud" is a good thing. I wish I could let loose and just yell out how good God is and what it means that He is in my life in public. You wait, some day you'll hear this quiet Lydia just shout it out!

So think about it. What does it mean to you to "live God loud?" And maybe some Sunday soon, I'll catch the guy with the T-shirt and let you know what he thinks!!

Worries carried away

A full day of work, non-stop patients, a co-worker who seems to criticize every move, how little time to study, preparing to move - worries, worries and more worries. Laying in bed, trying to fall asleep, scenarios of the day flashing across my eyelids, echoes of mean tones of voices bouncing inside my head, fears of changes ahead flooding my heart, every minute I lay awake; a minute lost of sleep and renewal - where is the peace I need to fall asleep?

"Come, my child." A voice barely heard over the scream of my thoughts. "Come, my child." The voice grows louder. "Where are You, God? Where is Your peace?" Silence. My mind tries to focus on better things but the worries continue, interrupting my every pleasant thought. "Come, my child." I hear it loud and clear.

The darkness of my closed eyes begins to brighten. I enter a doorway. Far ahead is God sitting on His throne. He is beckoning me to come. I proceed ahead, dragging my load of worries, which still tempt me to flee. "Come, my child. What are you afraid of?" "Can I trust You, God?" He nods His head. I slowly approach His throne and fall to my knees, holding tightly to my load of worries. "Give them to Me," He says. "Let Me hold them for tonight." I look hesitantly at my load of worries. I feel a reluctance to give them up. "Can I really, really trust You with them, God?" "Of course, my child. Give them to Me." He reaches out His hand.

I heft the load into His hands. "Okay, God. But just for tonight. I'll take them back tomorrow after I have had my sleep." God sighs patiently. "No, my child. Give them completely to Me." I cry out, "Are you sure God, that I can trust You?" All of a sudden I don't see my load anymore. "Yes, my child. Come here to Me."

I lay back, enfolded in His arms, His love flowing all over me. Ah, what peace..... sleep at last!

Study and Work Mesh

I am currently studying Pharmacology for my Nurse Practitioner Masters Degree. Friday I had a patient named Alicia. She was 19 years old and came in because she had a vaginal discharge. As we do with all the females that come in with this complaint, we did a pregnancy and urinalysis test on the unit. It turned out that she was pregnant. Since the nurses don't necessarily follow a patient through the process, I met her when I went in to discharge her. As I gave her the instructions, she said in a sense of desperation "How much does an abortion cost?" I have no idea since I have never had to deal with this so I said "I don't know." She continued to say, "I'm 19 years old. I already have 2 children - the second is only 9 months old. I can't deal with another one. How could this happen to me when I have been on birth control?" I asked her if she had missed the timing on her 3 month birth control shots. She said "No. I have been very faithful." I immediately felt her honesty and her efforts to not get pregnant were very legitimate. (I do not get this sense with many of the young women I have met in the last couple of weeks) And she didn't seem too keen on getting an abortion.

My mind began to analyze the situation. How could she get pregnant while she was on birth control? (Don't get me wrong, birth control is not always 100% effective) I went directly to my recent studies of antibiotics and birth control in my Pharmacology class. One big teaching thing that was clear to me was that some antibiotics could decrease the effectiveness of birth control methods. So I asked her if she had been on antibiotics. She said, "Oh yes, I was treated for a toe infection a little while ago." So I said "Didn't the nurse tell you to use other methods of contraception while you were on the antibiotics?" She said "No." She hadn't read the discharge instructions which clearly instructed her on this with the antibiotic she was taking. My heart reached out to her. She was in a very difficult situation. As she got her coat on, I said "The baby is in Jesus' hands. You will know what to do." She responded with "Have a blessed day." which is commonly used here by African American Christians or those who attend church.

I kicked myself later because I could have prayed with Alicia then and there asking God to show her what to do but I didn't. I prayed for her later that day on my own. I prayed that I would be more sensitive to that tugging in my heart and to be more bold to pray with my patients if they would like it. And I resolved then and there, that I would take a few more seconds to explain the medicines and to remember the things I have been learning in my studies. A few steps forward in my ministry to my patients and to appreciating my studies and to being grateful that I can take the time to care.

Our Daily Bread

I have been listening to Brian Doerksen's new album "Holy God" many times as I drive back and forth to work. His second song is about The Lord's Prayer. One phrase has struck me deeply. He sings, "Feed us today what we need to live" for the phrase "give us today our daily bread." I just thought that this was a very convicting adaptation to the common phrase of The Lord's Prayer. I tend to ask more or expect God to give me more than I really need each day. I have often asked myself lately, "What is it that I need to live?" Do I need 3 meals a day? Do I need to have everything go right for me throughout the day? Do I need to be comfortable and without trial?And to think that God provides what I need TODAY - not what I need tomorrow, or next month or next year or even for my retirement etc. Can I trust God to give me exactly what I need to live today?

This phrase goes through my head a lot and slowly I am learning to trust God to face the challenges of today and put aside the challenges of tomorrow or of my future. I sincerely believe this is the way God wants us to live. As I think of the poor in Africa or here in North America, they live to survive each day and cannot even be concerned about whether they will survive tomorrow. As I faced my emotional struggles in the past few years, I have pleaded that I want to do more than just survive each day. I have asked God many times to just give me a period of time where there are no challenges. As I look back, I realize that God did give me what I needed to get through each day. And God does give more many times when I look to Him for my needs for a particular day. And it is a blessing to be able to look at the end of the day and say "I did more than just survive because God gave me what I needed for that day."

Jesus in Express Care

Makesha came to Express Care the other day. Physically there just wasn't something completely right about her. She walked kind of funny and her arms and hands were a bit askew. She seemed to be quite bright and answered all my questions. She complained of her toe hurting her. Already in the triage area, I felt a link to her.

I brought her into an exam room and noticed her thin coat - too thin for the 10 degree F weather of the day. Her white sweat shirt was dirty and grayish in colour. She struggled to get her shoe off. I bent down to remove her very black white sweat sock. She cried out "oh, it has gotten worse," a sense of despair in her voice. I looked at her foot - wrinkled and sort of deformed, pieces of dead skin falling off the sole. Her big toe nail was barely attached, not at the base but at the tip of her toe. I got a basin and filled it with normal saline solution with a bit of Betadine for her to soak her foot in. I can't identify my emotion at that time - but there was some grief that she should be in this condition and there was a lot of love.

I returned to her room and rinsed her foot off and dried it gently with a towel. She hopped awkwardly as I supported her to the exam table. I gingerly directed her foot to rest on the blue pad. I felt a strange sense of compassion for her. As I reflect back - I can identify what was happening - Jesus was in that room. He was reaching out to Makesha through me. Just as He had washed the disciples' feet, and as I washed the feet of my friend recently at a seminar on serving, so He was washing Makesha's feet. He was loving her through me.

As she got her x-ray and the toenail was removed, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I so much wanted to get her in the shower and scrub her back, and smear thick moisturizing lotion all over her. I just wanted to love her with Jesus' love. One of the nurse's bought her a juice and a Danish. As I dressed her toe and explained how to change the dressing, I found I kept saying "when you get home." And I kept asking myself, "does she even have a home?" How foolish I am to assume she has a warm place to go to, to be sheltered and cared for. She thanked me profusely and as she out her shoe back on said "Oh that feels so much better now." She put her coat on, gathered up the extra supplies we could give her and headed out the door to catch the bus to go wherever she came from.

That night as I cuddled under my warm duvet, I prayed, "Dear Jesus, keep Makesha warm tonight. Show her how much You love her. Thank You for loving her through me today."

Refreshment

It is fall. The sky is a rich blue far above. The yellow leaves carpet the forest floor. The light shines through the trees scattering speckles of light all around. There is a little brook. The water gently runs over the stones. It bubbles and babbles. It is clear, shining water. The bottom so clearly visible. The air is fresh and crisp. Jesus and I are walking slowly along the brook. Pausing frequently to commune together. There are no words. He gently steadies my elbow as I stumble on the roots. He gives me a hand up on the steeper parts. I feel expended and tired, though we are not walking fast or labouring hard. My mouth is dry. Jesus motions for me to sit. He comes down beside me. He scoops the water out of the brook, gesturing with His head, willing me to drink. I lean over. The cold fresh waters touches my lips. I drink. The water drips from His hands but they always seem full. I drink slowly. The water glides down my throat. AH... refreshment flows over me. And I look at those hands - with the nail scars red and deep. And I know His love - I am restored.

Customer Service

During the recent orientation of my new job, customer service was really pushed. In fact, one of the top executives for the system of hospitals, spent at least an hour on detailing its importance. I thought he was overdoing it a bit. But as I continued my orientation at the hospital where I have my job, I immediately saw the effect of good customer service. As I walked down the hallways, almost every staff member would say hello. Every presenter for our various orientation sessions always introduced themselves and gave us a big welcome. I couldn't believe how much this gave me such a positive attitude right from the start. Part of this reminded me of my time spent in Burkina Faso because you would never pass someone anywhere in the village without greeting them. Also having come from an outpatient clinic where customer service was not pushed, the contrast in the employee attitudes was phenomenal.

The organization's buzz acronym is S.I.T.E. - Smile. Introduce yourself. Give Title. Explain. Now I guess I sort of did this in my previous job but I think I forgot the smile. It took me some getting used to now in 2 days on my unit, but I have noticed that the patients have really responded. Now there are some that nothing you do makes them happy, but that's the world for you! And as it is practiced in the hallways and with the patients, it rubs off onto the staff. I have never felt so welcomed in a new job as I have starting this one.

I think of the many times I have gone to the lab for blood to be drawn. It is usually full of people, you have to draw a number, wait for your number to be called to register, sit back down and wait again for your number to be called by the phlebotomy tech. I have gone there often in the last 8 months. I can't say that I remember any time that the employees have smiled or even given me their name, let alone apologize that the wait was over an hour. Therefore, I have developed a strong dislike of going to the lab, not because I am going to get poked, but because it has such an unpleasant atmosphere as the employees are rude and the patients are usually upset over the service. What a difference it would make if they would smile and say, "Hi, my name is ... and I am going to register you." or "Hi, my name is ... and is there anything else I can do for you today?"

I have to say the greeters at my church are pretty good at smiling and holding the door open for you. And they noticed when I was there for the first time. Also the church has started to have a time during the worship to get up and meet new people as a continuation of the worship. At first, I thought it was a major interruption of the service. But now I think this adds greatly to the community of the church. And I have met a few new people. On the other hand, I met a woman one day who said "Well, I just slip in late and leave right away when it's over. I don't know anybody to talk with." She does not know Jesus yet as her personal Saviour and since meeting her, I haven't seen her in church again. Guess I have a little more S.I.T.E. to do.

It all starts with one smile and a little bit of time. Wow, how the world would be different if S.I.T.E. became a routine part of life!

Again and again and again!

Last Oct, my car was sideswiped by a semi on the Ambassador bridge as I crossed from Windsor to Detroit on my way to work. Because of God's hand on me I was not injured but my car was totalled. As you can imagine, it was very difficult for me to go back on the bridge. That night, as I listened to some classical music with nature sounds in my bed, the following happened:

An open, green expanse. It is steep. The grass is green, bright, glistening in the sun. The sky is that beautiful rich blue with big, fluffy, white clouds. There is warmth yet the breeze is refreshing. Jesus and me - we are walking. The mountain peaks tower above us, the valley far below. We have walked a way along this vast slope. The sound of rushing water - a mountain stream coming down. The water sparkling in the light. The water rushing around the rocks. Fear envelops me. "Are we crossing that?" It's a long way down. The rocks are wet and slippery. "Yes." Jesus says. "Do you trust me?" I look again. The fear is great. My heart pounds in my chest. My brain screams "I can't." My heart softly says "I want to." Jesus says, "Come." He steps out confidently placing His sandaled feet on the rocks. The water rushes over them. He reaches out His hand. The nail scars are there. I gingerly take hold. His grip tightens. He is willing me to come. I can feel it as I look into His eyes. My heart now feels like it is about to jump out of my chest. My breaths are fast and shallow. I step out. His firm grip pulls me along. One step...two step... The water sprays on my shoes and pant legs. Six step...seven step... He pulls me across the final rock. My feet are back on solid ground. The relief floods through me. I am safe once more. Then Jesus says "Again." I say, "Are you kidding? Not again." He persists. "Again." I step out again. His firm hand pulling me along. Again and again and again. We go back and forth across that stream. Each time my confidence grows. Each time my fear lessens. Again and again. Then I am running across. Back and forth. Jesus stands and watches me. He is laughing. Such release.

And so, that is how I got back to crossing the bridge. Sometimes, small waves of fear come when I am coming around that same curve with a semi beside me - but I see Jesus and the fear passes. What are you afraid of doing right now? Reach out, grasp that nail scarred hand that Jesus is reaching out to you. Feel the strength of His grip. He will bring you through. Keep trusting. Soon you will find that great relief. You will feel the joy of Jesus as the relief floods your soul.

Struck by Poverty

Last night I watched Diane Sawyer on 20/20 telling the stories of 3 kids growing up in the poorest town of the US, Camden, NJ. New Jersey is also the richest state. I was deeply touched by the story of Ivan, a 5yr old, who is homeless and when asked at school, could not even say the names for lunch and dinner. He has rarely eaten three meals a day and sometimes has had nothing to eat. Billy Joe, a 17yr old, trying to finish his senior year of high school, working 5 hrs every night to earn money to help his Dad feed his siblings and being constantly pressured to join a gang. Moochie, the 8yr old girl whose father is an alcoholic, and whose grades dropped as she suffered from the stresses of her young life. My heart cries out - how can this happen in the United States, a place where sports players make millions of dollars a year and a 5 yr old barely eats once a day?

I have also lived for 7 years in the 3rd poorest country in the world, Burkina Faso, West Africa. I have seen children who cannot even go to school because their parents cannot afford it. I have seen little girls, taken in by the extended family, literally working as their slave. I have seen young people who have managed to finish high school only to sit around the market because there is no chance of getting a job. I have seen and met people who have had nothing to eat for months when there is a drought and their crops have failed. They literally boiled the leaves from trees to have something to fill their stomachs. My heart cried out for them - they had no choice as to which country they could be born in.

As I have reflected on these experiences, I ask myself what is the difference in "poverty?" I have very different reactions to Camden, NJ and Burkina Faso. You see, in Burkina Faso, there are no social assistance programs - there is no money in the country. The villagers want more, know there is more out there, but they have no way of attaining it. I guess I can direct my question of this type of poverty to God. For it is He who chose for the Burkinabe to be born in this country. In Camden, NJ, these children also did not choose to be born into the situations they were born into. But they are in the United States - a country with money all over the place. I have to direct this question to Americans - how can this be that children do not have enough to eat?

In both places I have seen the incredible will and desire to survive in people. I have seen them making the best of what they have. I have seen hope that somehow one's life could change. In Camden, I see children dreaming to escape their lives. They can survive the odds. But I kind of feel depressed about Camden. Despite those that beat the odds, so many cannot because they are given no chance. I just get vibes of negativity and discontent. Whereas in Burkina Faso, despite the utter poverty, people were content, living their lives with positivity. I have had encouraging vibes. I have been challenged by these gentle people who have found a way to accept the life they have been given. It's a hard thing to put into words!

I must say that the direction of my heart has changed. I was called for a time to bring God's love and provision to the people of Burkina Faso. I learned their culture and lived amongst them. But now I feel drawn to somehow bring some help and hope to those who lack here in North America. May God give me the courage to learn and to understand the heart beat of those who live here in great poverty.