One of the most important life lessons – there is only one Saviour. No matter how justified or righteous we may feel, getting in the way of God is costly. Most often it happens because we think He is too slow. If we can just push the envelope, then that person will have the help they need. But will that help last?
God’s plan and His timing gets to the bottom of the barrel and illuminates the real problems that are preventing people from thriving. We have to get out of the way and learn to pray for the Holy Spirit to do the ‘deep’ work.. Then the mess is truly dealt with, and a firm foundation can be built for future generations.
Our Saviour complex is a bandaid approach that gives the appearance all is well, but it only makes us feel better temporarily. These thoughts in no way are to be used as an excuse to do nothing. Simply by asking Jesus to speak to you is the best place to start. And sometimes, like today, the best thing I can do is go to the piano, and listen.
“Run to the Rescue”
Sometimes you ask for just what you get
and wonder why life is so hard?
Layers of bandages fester regrets,
but lets you pretend who you are.
So you run to the rescue,
and help someone else make it right.
So keep telling yourself you’re the Saviour.
Keep pulling the ocean uphill.
Keep talking to God like he’s needing your favours,
Yesterday coming home from church I was reminded about the annual Hitman Game and the Teddy Bear Toss, http://hitmenhockey.com/teddy-bear-toss. The news announcement brought back a difficult, but heart warming memory. Thank you – to our communities and the Hitmen Hockey Team, for your generosity and kindness during the Christmas Season. It made a difference to our little family, and we will never forget you.
One afternoon around Christmas time in 2007 I had gone down the stairs to our daughter’s bedroom to see why she wasn’t answering my call. We were all getting ready to go out and visit with friends. When I found her in her room she was not able to speak or walk. She was eight years old. I carried her out to our vehicle, and drove her down to the clinic. Her younger siblings were crying and frightened because their big sister didn’t recognize them.
Soon after our arrival at the clinic we were told about her Grand Mal seizure. Her Daddy arrived from work to comfort our children, and I got in the back of an ambulance to ride with her to the Children’s Hospital. After a very long night of nurses coming and going, poking and prodding and shining lights in her eyes, the sun arose. I waited to see if our little girl would open her eyes, if she would talk. I had been cautioned that she may have sustained brain damage.
Our daughter opened her eyes. She didn’t smile like she usually did, but she did look around the room. I told her where she was, but she didn’t seem to react, however she noticed she was sharing her room with another patient, a little boy in the bed next to hers. She shoved off her covers, and slid out of her very tall hospital bed. She walked over to a book shelf and pulled a book out. I then watched her go to the boy’s bed and reach for a chair that was nearby.
The seconds that followed were magical. I watched her turn the pages of the book, and heard her voice begin to read. Tears trickled down my face. I didn’t know what the days ahead would bring, but our little girl had come through a very difficult challenge. She was walking, talking and able to see another child’s needs.
Later that morning while we were resting I tried to stop my mind from worrying. I knew our daughter was in good hands, but the fatigue and the weight of our daughter’s health cast a long shadow on my heart. The word ‘Epilepsy’ had been used in the nurses’s conversations. What did it all mean? Would our daughter ever enjoy a normal life? Would she have another seizure?Just as my head felt like it might explode a group of men in hockey uniforms came into the room. They were all holding Teddy Bears. Our daughter sat up and blinked. The men smiled and three of them offered her a bear. I think it was because they had learned she had a brother and sister back home.
Their visit reminded me that so many people cared. We were not alone and forgotten in our sadness, but cradled in the arms of others, even strangers. The Teddy Bears were a symbol of compassion.
Later that day a neighbour and her son came to visit. They were frequent visitors to the hospital and heard we were there. Her son had had several seizures as a young baby and boy, and was in a wheel chair. Our daughter didn’t say much, she was very tired, but she looked at the little boy then back at her three bears, picked one out, and offered it to her new friend.
It was at Christmas time so long ago, in the Calgary Children’s Hospital, where our daughter was indeed given the diagnosis of ‘Epilepsy’, but it was then she also decided to be a Nurse. She never wavered from that call. Her health condition improved, and four very challenging years later, on September 9th, 2011, she was given a clean bill of health. Today she is married, with two beautiful children, and practices nursing on the Sunshine Coast.
Thank you Calgary Hitmen and all the Teddy Bear donors, for keeping the Annual Teddy Bear Toss tradition alive. We are witness to the difference a Teddy Bear can make in the life of a child.
Last night I couldn’t sleep, and decided to watch a “no brainer” kind of movie. Some of the subliminal messages kept rippling in the rain this morning. I got my coat on, and went for a walk in a nearby park. Nothing like a stroll in the fresh autumn air to turn our eyes towards our creator. His light illuminates the beautiful truth.
As I shuffled through the dying leaves my mouth couldn’t help but smile. I felt so glad to be alive. In my moment of gratitude words came out of my mouth, words that brought the dilemma of this dying world, and the promise of life to light.
Some of these words may not be understood without an understanding of scripture. If you have questions about some of the terminology, make sure you ask them. Find someone who owns a Bible and dig in.
This song is a message for those who believe, and yet doubt in God’s power. How many times have I prayed for someone’s relief, and doubted it may happen? This song is a message for those who believe, but have forgotten where they’ve come from. This is a song of conviction, and of hope, and a song to soothe the weary caregiver’s heart (Gal. 6:9).
She comes and goes in different colours. She changes clothes but underneath,
the sound of axes in the forest remind us all about the thief.
Her yesterdays keep on repeating, despite the prayers upon our lips.
But if He’s given us tomorrow, there’s still a hope that she’ll be His.
So bend your knees all God’s children, arm for battle, sound the cry.
And do not weary of your mission until this daughter is His Bride.
We come and go in different colours, we wear your robe but underneath
our accusations of each other bring us so humbly to your feet.
And under grace our hearts keep beating, your ceaseless prayers have called us forth.
And while we’re certain of tomorrow, there are still more who will be yours.
So bend your knees all God’s children, arm for battle, sound the cry.
And do not weary of your mission until this daughter is His Bride.
I want to personally thank Andrea Hawiuk and Friends for the generous and informative conference on Depression and Suicide, The Conversation Has to Happen (2017). Every story shared offered new insight for those suffering, and those suffering along side of. Thank you also for inviting several of the agencies in Olds to participate through a showcase in the Pomeroy Inn and Suites Foyer.
I was moved by Rev. Dr. John Pentland when he humbly introduced a friend to share about the loss of her Son Ty. I was also very inspired by John’s response to “Thirteen Reasons Why“. I want to follow his practice of writing thirteen nuggets of wisdom to encourage our children to embrace life.
I was in agreement with Mike Ryan when he brought our attention to society’s different treatment towards alcohol versus drugs. They both alter our mental state.
Jim Marland and his program Can Praxis is ingenious and so necessary for veterans and first responders.
Terry Coles – thank you for your honesty and humility. Blessed to have heard your story.
One particular topic that was not discussed at great length was how some of our cultural entertainment trends are catalysts for further suffering. Violence, death, and fantasy, all contributing to darker mood swings, and often times an unrealistic view of life.
Thanks to Wayne McCracken and Don Matchullis, very tasteful touch with the musical choices.
I don’t like climbing mountains, so I was surprised to find I am a mountain climber. The rocks are life’s challenges. The sheer height is fear of failing. The climbing gear is my relationship with Christ, and His Word. And the climb? My continuous choice to overcome.
I was looking for useful tools the other day for a friend who is fighting depression, and came across a podcast by John Piper (his youtube channel is Desiring God). Thanks Julie for suggesting it.
As embarrassing as it is to admit – I can’t remember which bible verse he quoted, but He tells us the best way to overcome depression is to gaze at God. At first I scoffed “oh come on – it can’t be that simple.”
You never want to give people advice that you can’t take yourself, so I pondered John’s words.
I didn’t understand.
“How do I gaze at You?” I asked God.
And then I sat very still and quieted my thoughts and waited. An answer came. You gaze at God by not staring at the world.
I personalized “the world”. What did that represent for me? I had been watching mystery/crime television, when I could have been playing music, or writing, or even resting. The information consumed left me feeling fatigued and restless. Images of struggle and death were the last flashes before I fell asleep. Not something a mountain climber needed to reach the summit.
A light bulb moment, fuel for the fire, energy for the climb! If you find yourself slipping, if you find yourself stuck, if you recognize you are out on a limb going no where – perhaps some reflection is needed on what or whom you’ve been staring at?
“The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light.” Matthew 6:22 (NIV)
Guess what? I skipped television tonight and wrote instead, as well as visited with some friends. Our conversation was very focused on….you guessed it, my best friend. tonight I think we’re going to be mountain climbing in my sleep:)
Once songs were chosen and emailed off to the different worship team members, I sat at the breakfast table and wondered “what next God?” Every day is an open window, a portal to new lessons waiting to be learned.
By the end of the day I wasn’t sure what it was I was supposed to learn. “I may have been better off staying inside with a closed door.” I muttered under my breath.
But there in the middle of an absent answer – was the answer itself. Every phone call, every errand ran, every conversation had been riddled with obvious pain. Maybe it wasn’t obvious to everyone, but I could feel it. I could hear it in their voices. I could see it in their body language, like a crippling disease. As I witnessed and embraced my beloved (those who Christ has blessed my life with) I too felt my bones weaken, and my spirit faint, and knelt to hand my anguish over to God. Prayer was the lesson. Prayer was the answer that always leads to action.
For the addict whose name was the same as a biblical warrior – I prayed for the Holy Spirit to intervene, so that he too could march around his walls of Jericho, and conquer his demons once and for all.
For the mother, I thought of Jochebed, Moses’ mother and how she too had to let go of her son unwillingly, and watch a stranger raise him. I asked the Holy Spirit to comfort her, and remembered Romans 8:26 “In the same way the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”
And for a friend who is always struggling to make ends meet I thought of the Israelites wandering in the desert, afraid for how they were going to find food and water. God had given them manna with instructions on how to collect it and use it to keep their bodies fueled, but in their disconnect they squandered it and the food spoiled. Their wandering cycle lasted for 40 years and many died on the way to the Promised Land. I prayed for my friend, for the power of the Holy Spirit to help her look up and take hold of God’s provision, and so break the generational cycle, which threatened to end her life and the lives of her children, and their children.
And for me, I cried out to God that I would get up off my knees and act out His compassion, as Christ and the early church exemplified (Acts 2:43-47).
As I wondered just how much we should give, and where the balance should be the words “poured out” tumbled out of my mouth.
Isaiah 53:12b “…..because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.”
Let us be quick to pour out what He has given us, and be slow to consider ourselves.
The song came before the picture, but one of my favourite lines….”if there’s any truth to ‘right as rain’, you’re my waterfall, fill me again.
Standing in a waterfall means all you can see and feel, and hear is the water. Many times life’s circumstances swirl around us and drain us dry. How can we keep a healthy perspective? I suggest you stand in the waterfall…..and for me that waterfall is God. David talks about great grief being swept over him in the waterfall, in the deep, in the waves (Psalm 42:7). But I see God’s waterfall as place of strength, standing on the rock, surrounded by His presence. The water not sweeping me away, but filling me with His truth.
I’ve been here before, not so long ago
Almost missed the signs, now I know, I know
The sky can be blue, the wind can blow wide
But without you here, I’m desert dry
Gotta hear your voice before birds sing
Gotta say your name, as you grow these wings
If there’s any truth to ‘right as rain’
You’re my waterfall, fill me again
I will live by faith and not by sight
Where you roar is great, and the world’s dark night
is a shadow small, and a moment’s pain
You’re my waterfall, fill me again.
Worry’s at my door, thinking he’s at home
Sometimes he gets in, but it’s not for long
He stirs up the storm to empty and drain
But in the waterfall – I will remain
lyrics and music by Cindy Palin @Feb. 9, 2017 All Rights Reserved
This morning I got out of bed at a snail’s pace. A thirteen hour drive will do that to you. But it was all worth it. Like Bryan Adam sings “You’d shoot the moon, put out the sun, when you love someone”, and we love our children and grandchildren.
It was all I could do to make sure I was clean, and in fresh clothes before I snuck out to the dollar store, incognito I might add (sunglasses). There I bought stickers for a package I needed to mail to an associate, and more stickers to mail to my grandchild.
As I left the store I was remembering how hard it was to greet each day with a smile when my children were really small. I was thankful for my precious miracles, but exhausted all the time. And you know that phrase, “Choose Joy”? Well it’s easier said than done when you don’t have a second of peace and quiet. [clickandtweet handle=”” hashtag=”” related=”” layout=”” position=””]My slogan was far less noble[/clickandtweet], “choose a chocolate bar behind a locked bathroom door”.
I glanced to my left as I crossed the parking lot and noticed a teacher who taught me in elementary school. Back then I didn’t like her much, but it wasn’t her fault. I was a kid who thought the sun should rise and set on my every whim.
But now, well now is different because as Paul says in 1 Cor. 13:11, “I once thought like a child, reasoned like a child”. Thanks to Christ’s faithfulness, and the work of the Holy Spirit in me, I no longer think or reason the same, and I can hear God’s voice above my own.
Even though I was tired just thinking about how tired my daughter was, I could feel God nudging me. I stopped short in the parking lot, and turned around and went up to my teacher, and shook her hand with a boisterous “good morning, and how are you?”
Like myself, and like my daughter, who is now a mother too, my teacher is a mom as well, and bottom line – a valued person. The seasons have changed, but our maladies are much the same. Her fatigue is different, but is still fatigue. Maybe her sanity is challenged with the quiet, rather than the noise. Maybe she finds it hard to choose joy when nobody really needs her anymore, or so it seems.
And we do need each other. As I hopped in my vehicle I whispered a prayer, “Lord Jesus, send someone to greet my kids with compassion today, where ever they may be”.