Hunger

It seems everyone I meet is hungry, in a spiritual sense, regardless of whether they are Christians or not. The Christians are hungry for more of God, for a real sense of His presence, for something beyond playing church on Sundays and trying to "be good" the rest of the week. And the non-believers are also hungry for God, they just don't know it; so they try to satisfy this craving with whatever the world has to offer. And the world has much to offer. Check out the TV Guide and you will find show after show with witches, mediums, spiritualists, demons, ghosts, and much much more. Some of these shows are out-right evil and perverse, but the majority appear wholesome, if I can use that word. The point is, they draw people in. The shows wouldn't exist if the desire for them didn't exist.

Let's talk about real food for a moment. A baby has an unbiased palate. Everyone knows you need to introduce vegetables before fruits or else the baby will not like the vegetables because they are not as sweet. In other words, if you give the baby sweet foods, he will crave sweet foods. This is true for all of us. We desire the foods we feed ourselves. If you say you don't like water, but you know it's good for you, so you decide to drink it anyway - you will eventually come to like water. The more you feed yourself junk food, the more you will crave it. But learning to like wholesome foods takes time.

Okay, back to the spiritual. Philippians 2:16 says we hold out the word of life. What is the word of life? Jesus - the Bread of Life. So, according to the Bible - we hold out Jesus to a crooked and depraved world, offering them Life. This is good food. This is the best food. Fragrant; irresistable! Imagine walking into a bakery. What's the first thing that you notice? The smell. If you're hungry, you might even start to drool. You can't wait to get in there and pick up a freshly baked bun or a still-warm loaf of bread, slather it with butter, and pop it into your mouth. Mmmm - heaven!

Yes! And "yes" again! That's the way it should be.

But sadly, that is not the way it is. So many unbelievers pass us by, and what do we hold out to them? The word of life, like the Bible says? No - we hold out nothing. We don't have any bread for ourselves, so we have nothing to offer them. Or maybe we hold out our church programs, our traditions, or our religious mumbo-jumbo. It's not the Bread of Life, but hey, it's still good food. Right? (Maybe, but maybe that's why so many walk away from churches and from Christians saying they "tried it" but "didn't like it" - weren't satisfied). Our programs are like brussel sprouts and spinach. They may be good for us, but they don't taste good until you develop a taste for them. But everyone like bread. So let's serve up Jesus.

But how can we do that if we don't have any Bread for ourselves? Maybe it's time to stop feeding ourselves spiritual junk food. Maybe it's time to develop a hunger for God alone. Such a hunger that only God His-very-own-Self will do. Nothing else will satisfy. Jesus promised that this hunger would be satisfied. Am I making myself clear here? Whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - think about such things. (Philippians 4:8) Jesus is pure. Jesus is lovely. Jesus is admirable. Think on Him. Develop a hunger for Him. Then He will give you the Bread of Life to eat and you will have enough (and more than enough) to hold out for others.

Philippians 2:14-16 - Do everything without complaining

or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure,

children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved

generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe

as you hold out the word of life.

The Best Dream Ever!

I was on a boat – a large sailboat – and I was fishing. The water was so clear that I could see down into it for a long way. I caught a fish, but a larger fish caught my fish, and I was watching them both under the water. There was something odd about the larger fish. As I slowly reeled in the line, I finally realized that the larger fish wasn't a fish at all, it was a turtle. I thought at first it was a snapping turtle and I was afraid, but as I pulled it in closer, I saw that it was a sea turtle, with a gentle mouth, and it (she) was beautiful. She let go of the fish and I dangled the lure in front of her again, hoping to entice her to catch hold of my line. I really wanted this beautiful creature to stay up near the surface just long enough for me to take a picture of it. I didn't want to harm her, just get her to stay long enough for me to reach my camera. I fumbled one-handed to open the case and push the power button. Of course, by the time the camera was ready, the turtle had gone under the boat. I walked through the boat, hoping to spot her on the other side. But I came across the dive pool and there she was, swimming gracefully in this clear calm pool. Oh, she was gorgeous!

The dream shifted slightly and she was caught inside of a submerged car. I had to help her. (I don't know if I was underneath the water or not. If I was, I had no trouble breathing). I reached inside the car and gently wiggled her to free her from whatever the obstruction was. Her shell came off and I lifted it out and placed it carefully on the ledge beside me. Then I reached for the body of the turtle; but now, she wasn't just a turtle – she was a turtle-girl. Now I really saw her face. Looked into her eyes. She was alive and sentient and oh, so beautiful. I had to be careful. Her body wasn't meant to be touched – hence the shell. She was able to get free of the car on her own and she swam up to the ledge and asked for her shell back. I held it in the water while she wriggled into it. Then she let me take her picture and swam away. I was awed; I felt so privileged to be able to not only see her, but help her and even share a moment with her. I wish my words could convey the emotion. I've felt fear before in dreams, and pain; I've given birth, been lost, been in run-away cars – but this is the first dream I can recall ever with such positive emotion and depth of feeling. The beauty; the serenity; the feeling of utter peace and completeness. Wow.

New shift in the dream. I go back on deck. I want to fish some more, because that was such a positive experience. But now the deck is covered in flies. Big black ones. They aren't too scary, though, because their wings are fragile and they look like if they tried to fly, the wind would carry them away. So I walk through them (where they are covering the deck) and go to the side of the boat, where there are 2 steps down to the water's edge (long steps, like bleachers – they run the length of the boat). That's when I notice the flies have landed on me! There are 6 or 8 on my right arm and a couple on my left and a bunch all over my legs. I'm disgusted and a little freaked. I brush them off as quick as I can. I've been bitten a couple of times – 2 or 3 bites on my right arm and 2 or 3 on my right leg. The bites don't hurt, but still, I don't want to fish here anymore. I want to go back to the dive pool where it was calm and peaceful.

Another shift. The boat has been apprehended by pirates. Modern-day pirates. We have been told to gather together in the hold. I'm walking there slowly; but as I'm walking, I'm looking out to sea. The pirate ship is tethered to a large rock that sticks up out of the sea and it is circling this pinnacle. Our ship is tethered to the pirate ship but we aren't moving. The view is static. I look to my left and I know that one of us has escaped. It is the blonde woman I've dreamed of before. She must be in another boat of some kind, but I don't remember seeing one. I just know she's managed to get away before the pirates came on board, and she is going for help. I have the utmost confidence in this woman and the presence of the pirates does not trouble me in the slightest. I know that everything will be fine.
When I wake up, I don't remember this dream at first. I have other things on my mind. But as soon as I ask, “Didn't I dream last night?” - I start to remember. And the more I recalled the dream, the better I felt. I feel awesome right now. Energized and happy. This was the best of the best dreams ever! And the ending doesn't trouble me in the slightest. My focus is not on the flies or the pirates, but on that timeless moment in the pool with the turtle-girl.

It's Only a Test

This is a test. This is only a test. If this had been a real examination, you would not be reading this, but instead, would be standing before the King of Kings, awaiting judgment. So before you hear His verdict, take the test for yourself:

Instructions:
1) be completely honest
2) only "true" or "false" answers are allowed. "Sometimes" or even "often" is not good enough.
3) read the following sentences, then answer if the statement is true or false.

The Test:
1) I am patient.
2) I am kind.
3) I am not envious.
4) I do not boast about my own achievements.
5) I am not proud.
6) I am not rude.
7) I do not seek my own welfare before that of others.
8) I do not get angry easily.
9) I do not keep a mental record of all the wrongs others have done to me.
10) I do not enjoy things that are evil; I do not read, watch, or dabble in things that God calls evil.
11) I rejoice (take delight) with the truth.

I will tell you my score: 1/11 (I really like the truth).

There is a song running through my head: "Christ in me, Christ in me, Christ in me, the hope of glory!"

The bad news is that none of us pass this test on our own.
The good news is that "Christ in me" aces this test!
The challenging bit is to constantly seek more and more "Christ in me"!

And, by the way, I did not make up this test. God did. You can find the original in 1Corinthians 13:4-6.

Exhaustion & Refreshing

I heard a very good message last night on the life and ministry of Elijah. For those who don't know, Elijah was a prophet of God; which is kind of like saying that the Beatles were a musical group. Elijah was BIG! A headline act. And God really liked Elijah. Elijah was one of His special favourites.

One of Elijah's most famous acts was when he challenged the prophets of Baal to a duel. He said, "Let's see whose God is real and whose god is not!" They accepted the challenge and it went something like this. Each built an altar (think elaborate camp fire, stacking the wood just so) and then stood back and prayed, asking their god to light the fire. Only when it was Elijah's turn, he dumped buckets and buckets and buckets of water on the altar. (Think swimming pool).

God (the One and Only real God) sent fire down from heaven and burned up not only Elijah's altar, but the one to Baal too. And then all the false prophets were killed.

What a high! Elijah was no stranger to the power and might of God, but this

was pretty incredible. Elijah was experiencing in a very personal way what

the Scriptures mean when they say "Nothing is impossible with God". So, he takes off running, and out-runs a chariot. I don't know how fast chariots go, but I do know how fast horses are, and there is no way anyone could be faster than a horse. Yet Elijah ran a long way and arrived before the horses pulling the chariot. Wow! Elijah must have been higher than a kite! "God, You are amazing!" "God, You are incredible!"

And then Jezebel comes along and pops his balloon. "I'm going to kill you, Elijah," she says, and this is no idle threat. She has the resources to follow through. Suddenly, Elijah is in mortal danger and there is nothing left. He's burned up all his spiritual energy. The gas tank is sucking fumes. What horrible timing! If he had been given just one day to rest, I'm sure he would have laughed at Jezebel. But she got to him when he was at the utter end of his strength. So Elijah did the only thing he could: he ran for his life.

Poor Elijah was exhausted and spent. He says, "Kill me now, God - I've had enough." But God does not kill him; He restores him. God sends food and drink to Elijah, enough to sustain him through a forty day journey to the mountain of the Lord. And in this mountain, God comes to Elijah and speaks to him. God gives Elijah new hope and a new commission. God says, "I am not done with you yet, Elijah. Greater things are still to be done."

Are you exhausted? Worn out? Burnt out?

God will send supernatural food and drink to you, to sustain you and refresh you.

Rest in Him. Stop running and simply receive.

Algonquin Take 2

My daughter and I just returned from a 5 day trip. We started at Magnetawan and canoed for about 5 minutes to the portage. This really short portage took us to Hambone Lake where we had a slightly longer paddle to get to the tail end of Hambone (called just "the Pond" on the portage sign). The sign also says to try the creek (instead of doing the 55 metre portage to get to Daisy Lake), but at this time of year, the water levels are so low that we'd be doing more pushing than paddling, so we unloaded everything and walked down the incredibly short portage and loaded back up (loading and unloading took longer than the walk).
And now for the embarrassing bit: I tipped the canoe (with me in it) and got completely baptized in Daisy Lake. In my defense, I'm used to loading up the canoe at a beach, not a dock - and there is a dock on Daisy Lake. The water is about 3 feet deep, but there's no real bottom - it's decaying tree sediment, several feet deep of this sludge. So I threw the blue (thankfully waterproof) canoe-pack into the canoe and it didn't lay right, so I stepped in and gave it a yank; and that's when everything shifted and the next thing I knew, I was in the water, under the canoe! Getting out was very difficult as there was no real bottom for me to stand on. I sort of flailed my way back to the dock and heaved myself out. Then Laura and I dragged the canoe out of the water and drained it. Reloading went much better, and I was careful not to step into it until we were ready to leave. I was anxious to find a campsite on Daisy after this little adventure, but we still took the time to check out a few. We ended up on the middle site. It was a pretty good site, with a great sunbathing rock, but it was very short on flat ground. The first spot we tried had quite a severe slope, so we moved over to the one remaining piece of level ground and set the tent up there (much better - still a slope, but not nearly as noticable). After setting up the tent, the first thing I did was have a bath in the lake (no tree sediment here!) and washed all my clothes.
We had great weather while we were on Daisy. It was shortly after 11am when we arrived on Monday, so we had 2 full days here plus Wednesday morning. Our first night, we slept with the fly off the tent and fell asleep with our eyes full of starry visions. The second night, we went out in the canoe and gazed into the heavens for what seemed like hours.
I've tried so many times to describe how I feel when I get to see the stars (the entire Milky Way) laid out above me. Words don't often fail me, but in this case they do. All I can say is that there is a reason we have the word "indescribable" in our vocabulary.
So we lay there, under the never-ending expanse of the night sky and contemplated the love of God and His awesomeness, and then we headed in and went to sleep.

Wednesday was moving day. Because I booked this trip at the last minute, we weren't able to stay on one lake for the entire 5 days; but we lucked out in that we could get Hambone for the next 2 nights and we had to go there anyway to get back to the car, so it didn't seem like too much of a bother to move. We had a leisurely breakfast at 8:30 and were loaded up and ready to roll by 10:30.
I'm not sure what time it was when we reached our new campsite on Hambone Lake. We got here without incident. Hambone was quite windy and the waves were peaking, so I didn't explore too much. The first site was occupied, but the second one was free and after I gave it a quick glance, we decided it would do and started to set up. It was a very large site, with at least 3 good sized flat areas for tents. Someone had fashioned a "table" out of lashed together logs, and there were logs for seats around the fire. All in all, it was a very "commercial" site for Algonquin.
The clouds started rolling in right after supper, and the rain began right on schedule just as we were heading to bed.
Thursday was an interesting day. We managed to cook and eat breakfast (yummy pancakes) before the rain started up again. I rigged the tarp up and we ate under it. Then we washed our dishes and tidied up. The rain stopped again at some point and we went exploring in the canoe. Both the other sites were unoccupied now, so we checked them out. One has a huge hollow log section (big enough for me to crawl through) that they use to keep firewood dry.
When we got back, we went swimming. The sun almost came out, but then it started raining again. We went in the tent to warm up. I finished both my book and Laura's (now she's reading mine). The sun came out again and the tent quickly became stifling hot so we went for another swim and I pretended to fish for a while.
And that's how our whole day went - rain, then sun. We were able to cook and eat in the dry spells and we even had a lovely big fire.
Friday was going home day. We're ready. We miss our beds, we miss baths with real soap. I miss refrigerators and cold bottled water.

It was a great trip. Lots of good memories. Mother-daughter bonding and stretching. Can't wait 'till next year!

Indescribable

I was in a black ocean at night. I could see, faintly, dimly. But the darkness was all around me; the waves lapping over my face as I tread water were black. It was very quiet. I knew Jesus was with me, but I could not see Him; nor did I know exactly where He was. Without using my eyes, I "saw" a group of sharks approaching. They did not belong here! They should not be! Jesus popped up out of the water beside me; He saw the sharks and was not concerned. He dove beneath the waves and grabbed my foot, pulling me under -

- in that split second, of breathing air and bobbing up and down with the ocean swells to suddenly being pulled under; I passed through some kind of invisible, intangible barrier.

We were in the heavens. In outer space. Standing in the Universe, in all its vastness. It was indescribable. The colours of the stars - reds, purples, greens, blues. White, of course, but so much more. The stars were arrayed in patterns. Some compact, some spread out; all by design, all beautiful, all glorious. And then I was made aware of the Father's hand. Father God was holding all this vastness in the palm of His hand. The entire Universe fit snugly, safely, and lovingly in Father's hand. I turned to look at Jesus, and this thought crossed my mind: "What are You standing on?" And Jesus laughed, and told me "All things are under My feet. I'm standing on whatever I want!"

I see Jesus hold up His hand. He raised it to His mouth and blows gently across His palm. Tiny glimmering stars waft out and away. They rise and then fall gently into their places - newly born stars. They immediately find their patterns and their colours blaze. They pulse with life. They are singing to God; praising Him and declaring His goodness and love. I take one more look around. Light, colours, patterns everywhere. All is good. Each star is in it's place; each part of the larger pattern; each pattern part of the diversity that is the Universe. Songs of praise being sung both in sound and in light. And perhaps in thought. Even now, back on earth, my spirit pulses in tune with the song of the stars.

The Pearl of Great Price

from Matthew 13:45-46 "The Kingdom of Heaven (God's Kingdom, the place where He reigns and rules) is like (is being compared to, or is similiar in some way to) a merchant (a trader, a dealer, a buyer of precious jewels). This merchant is searching for fine pearls (precious, choice, excellent, goodly, good, beautiful pearls). And then he finds one. He finds the one: the pearl of great price. It is flawless, priceless; of exceedingly great value. The merchant immediately goes away and sells everything he has, all his possessions, all his wealth, in order to get it. And so he buys that pearl.

Without seeming to make more of myself that I ought to, I want to share with you, dear Reader, that God spoke to my heart and told me that I was His pearl of great price. And I cried, because how is it possible that God-His-very-own-Self could possibly think that highly of me? Yet I know it's true. For we are all made in the image of God; our true natures are mirrored in Him. As He is, so we are. Regardless of the state we're in, regardless of the dirt and grime that cover us and veil our true beauty - we are priceless to Him that made us. Priceless and of exceedingly great value. So much so, that He gave His life to purchase us from the grave.

One more quick thought about pearls (for why does the Bible speak of pearls and not some other precious gem?) -- pearls are made by irritants. The greater the trouble, the bigger and more beautiful the pearl becomes. Within the heart of every pearl is a seed of hardship. God promises great rewards to those who overcome. To those who don't let the trials of this life wear them down, but instead let the hardships shape them into a more perfect likeness of Jesus.

So let us all be pearls.

Lana & Cherie's Algonquin Adventure - Part 2

So, I told you about the killer portage, and the drive down, and our angel in disguise. The rest of this is pretty disjointed, so hang on as I change gears frequently.

Here is a song I wrote if any of you want to compose the music.

Sing to the Lord sweet praises
Offer them up as incense burning
Sing to the Lord with thanksgiving
Come to His throne and worship
Worthy is the Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb who was slain
Worthy is the Risen Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb
Sing to the Lord sweet praises
Worship Him with all your might
Sing to the Lord with rejoicing
Give Him all honour and glory and praise
Worthy is the Lord
Worthy is the Almighty One
Who was and is and is to come
Worthy is the Lord

This trip was different from all the others (of course); I'm still trying to process how different, exactly. Primarily it was a difference in my perception of God. I go to Algonquin to meet with Him. That may sound funny to some of you, and I don't mean to imply that God can only be found in the wilderness or that I only speak to Him once a year. What I mean, is that Algonquin is my personal mecca. Because I often go just by myself, I rely on God to look after me. Physically as well as spiritually. And this trip was different, maybe because I didn't have to search so hard to find Him.

My last night there, I had this dream:

I dreamed about a kingdom in trouble. My partner and I were there to help and we were to be given anything they could provide that would aid us. One eager young lady brought us a device that was used to make a straight line - to underline a book. It looked kind of like a giant paper press (seal) or a 3-ring paper punch. All metal; heavy and bulky. It even had a ruler, about 4 or 5 inches long, welded to the top. I asked the lady if a simple ruler wouldn't be easier and she agreed that it would, but there were none in the kingdom. I called for a servant, and gave directions for a metal ruler to be fashioned. I wanted it 12 inches long, 2 inches wide, and marked off into quarter inch segments. He left terrified and throughout the rest of my dream, I had an awareness of him and how his quest was transpiring. He'd gone to the blacksmith - who had said he could accomplish the making of this ruler, but now he was delaying and the servant was growing angry with him, and threatening him with the Queen. Meanwhile, back at the palace, we heard something loud approaching through the air. This was a medieval kingdom - it shouldn't have planes or helicopters! I looked through an open window, high up on the wall, and saw a small blimp. I think there was an elephant logo (a pink elephant, with tiny wings) on it's side. "They" (the bad guys from the neighbouring kingdom, who were making war against "our" kingdom) had somehow acquired this circus blimp and made it work. They flew over the courtyard and dropped a couple of large baskets or crates down - they split open upon landing and all kinds of treats came spilling out. I was aware that as they flew on, over the town area full of peasants and "common folk", they dropped more crates full of treats and treasures. So my partner and I checked out the things that had been dropped in our courtyard. One was full of ice cream - mango and peach and chocolate and others, in all kinds of tempting combinations, plus other goodies like pies and cakes and candies. I don't remember what was in the second basket. Not food. But maybe books or something that held knowledge we could benefit from. My partner was "in charge" of this second basket - exploring its contents. I went to the kitchen and started tasting all the ice creams. They were all delicious and I began to get carried away - pigging out - until my partner came and she tasted a few things. She agreed they were delicious, but she was focused on the second basket, and I went with her to ponder over that.

I also want to sing the praises of my tent. It's a solo tent by LL Bean and I simply love it. It was obviously designed by someone smart, someone who has actually camped, and is aware of what is needed in a tent. It's quite roomy inside, a large rectangle. With the rain fly on, you also have two large vestibules for your gear. Without the fly, you can look up at the stars through the mesh top. I'm going to check if they make a 2-man version!

My final account of our Adventure: the journey home. It rained all day. It rained while we were packing up. It rained all during the 3 hour portage, in the mud, with the mosquitoes, carrying everything ourselves. It rained during our canoeing back to the parking lot. The sun came out once we had the truck loaded. I want to remember this rain. How it came suddenly, fierce and hard. You couldn't look up during this squall - the rain hit your face and eyes and blinded you. I looked down, into the bottom of my canoe, and watched the water level rise. What is the purpose of all this rain, Lord? We are already wet. Soaked even. Saturated. All our stuff is wet, too. And now my canoe is filling up. This is really speaking to me, but I'm not sure exactly what the message is. And then I hear my Lord to say to me, "You are the rain, Cherie". This rain - this penetrating, soaking, relentless rain. This rain that doesn't give up, doesn't quit even after it has seemingly accomplished its purpose. This rain that pours out an abundant overflow. My Lord has equipped me to pour out His rain into the lives of His people, and not just into their lives, but into their spheres of influence, and even into their vehicles of ministry. Wow. You're so cool, God.

Lana & Cherie's Algonquin Adventure

The first account is for any would-be adventurers who want to know things like how long does it take and what not to bring. This was my 7th trip to Algonquin and I learn something new every time. The most important thing I learned on this trip was to never, ever, do the portage to Casey Lake again! It looks so innocent on the map. I even hiked it 2 years ago and I didn't think it was that bad. But hiking it for fun and trekking it back and forth as a portage are two entirely different things. This was brutal. Insanity. Forget winning a million dollars in the lottery - I want teleportation ability. I want magic to make things float in the air. I want super strength and super speed. I want this horrid portage to be over!

The second thing I learned is that Lana Plank is the most wonderful person on the planet. I literally begged her to come with me on this trip (Dean was unable to go at the last minute) and she had no idea what she was getting herself into. The closest she ever came to complaining was to ask me if I knew how difficult this portage was when I planned the trip. So pick your companions wisely, or in my case, have God pick them for you - because He certainly was the One who sent Lana to me in the eleventh hour. (Lana may have a completely different perspective on all this and it will be interesting to read her account of our adventures!)

Now to wrap up the practical details: Brantford to Kearney with 2 pee breaks and a gas fill-up = 4 hours. Kearney to Rain Lake = 45 minutes. From the parking lot at Rain Lake to the put-in at the portage to Casey Lake = 1 hour. Don't bring an axe, but do bring a saw. Don't skimp on bug spray. Don't, under any circumstances, put nails in a living tree. (The sap runs down over everything and is very, very sticky!)

And now for the personal account. The first thing I want to talk about is the scariest time of the entire trip: it was during the drive up. Lana and I had both been awake for 24 hours and she asked me to drive. Of course I agreed and so I turn the music up a little and make sure the car is not too warm. There is very little traffic. I'm driving in a state so close to sleep. It's hard to describe. I knew if I was singing along to the CD then I was awake, but if I stopped singing, I couldn't prove to myself whether I was awake or not. The length of time my eyes stayed closed when I blinked was getting longer and longer. I really wanted to be alert but wanting and doing were entirely seperate. After only half an hour or so, I pulled off the highway and told Lana I was sorry but I just couldn't drive any more. The sensation of falling asleep despite my resolve and determination not to, is a sensation I never want to experience again.

And now an ode to Peter, our guardian angel, who - if he ever reads this blog - will no doubt be embarrassed by our ebullient gratitude. Peter - the strong one! Peter - the kind one! Peter who shows kindness to strangers! Blessings on Peter! May all his portages be smooth! May all his campsites be dry! We salute you, Peter!
Now, if you are wondering what on earth that was all about - I will tell you. So, Lana and I are on this killer, brutal, insane portage. We are exhausted from no sleep. We are worn out from the drive and from paddling across Rain Lake. We have shlepped almost everything to the other side except for the food barrel and a pack and the canoe. We've tried carrying the canoe together, and it didn't work very well. We are just too tired. All our muscles are crying out for oxygen. It feels like we've been on this track for days. I sit down beside the path and just breathe for awhile. (If you ever come to my house and see a little sign that says "breathe", now you will know why). Lana is too tired to sit down. She just stands there for a minute, then, when she realizes I am not getting up, joins me, and she sprawls out on the path. We lay there for a time. Breathing. Wondering if all of this is just a dream and pretty soon we will wake up and start our trip - this time with easy portages. This is the state we're in when Peter and his two young sons show up. They are unencumbered. They are simply hiking this trail for the fun of it. Without us having to ask (beg if needed), Peter offers to help us - to carry our canoe. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Whether he knew it or not, this man (was he really a man? or perhaps an angel in disguise?) is an answer to prayer! Thank You, God, for sending us Peter! So, Peter picks up the canoe and heads off down the trail with his two little boys; and now, refreshed by the kindness of a stranger, Lana and I heave the packs onto our weary backs and trudge the remainder of the way (all uphill, except for the very end, where there is a very steep incline down to the water's edge). The first glimpse of the waters of Casey Lake are the gladdest sight I've ever seen. And there is the canoe, floating serenely in the water, tied securely to a tree. Where is our angel? Oh - there he is. I honestly would not have been surprised to find him disappeared. We thanked him over and over; blessed him over and over. Could we have completed this portage without his help? I guess we would have had to, but oh! Thank God we didn't have to!! So, please accept my heartfelt Ode, wherever you may be, Peter.

Being Stretched

Let's imagine for a moment that Someone very powerful offered to give you the deepest desire of your heart. What would that be? Not the first things to pop into your head - you know those are shallow and ultimately not fulfilling. Dig down, search deep into your truest self; to the very core and essence of who you are. What then?

I will tell you mine. The deepest desire of my heart is to know God (as fully and thoroughly as is humanly possible) and to share that knowing with the world. With all those poor, lost souls out there. With you.

I heard something last night. It goes something like this: God is able to do exceedingly, abundantly, beyond anything I could hope for or imagine. My imagination can take me pretty far. I think of writers like Tolkien and C.S. Lewis; like J.K. Rowlings and Stephanie Meyer. Or how about songwriters like Anne Murray, Gordon Lightfoot, Elvis - dare I believe in exceedingly, abundantly beyond?

I do. Yes, I really do. Because I know the power of words. One of the greatest lies we've ever told ourselves goes like this: "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me". Words have tremendous power to hurt. Or heal. To make us laugh or cry; to tear us down or build us up. I know the passion of my God to reach out to us through those healing, encouraging, life-giving words. To tell us of His love for us. To speak to us about our futures (which He designs as good, by the way).

So, I believe that Someone powerful has offered to give me the deepest desires of my heart; and I believe that the fulfillment of those desires will exceed my greatest expectations and go beyond my wildest imaginings.

Here I am, Lord, send me.

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I thought I was done, but then I remembered the title of this little blog (Being Stretched) and I forgot to mention that my dear brother Lawrence has told me that he wants me to "lead worship" for two songs tomorrow night and I am trying desperately to not freak out and to remember that it's all about God and not about me and that everyone around me loves me and accepts me even if I screw up completely which I won't as long as I stay away from "F"s and all bar chords. (and for all you would-be editors out there... yes, I know that was one long run-on sentence. You are supposed to read it that way, breathlessly, so you get the full impact of my consternation).

You know, folks, it's one thing to say "yes" to God. It's another thing when you realize He's actually taking you up on your offer. Tomorrow is a small beginning and it doesn't frighten me for its own sake. But I can see where this is leading and that scares the socks off me! Scares me at the same time it thrills me because this first step is taking me towards the fulfillment of my heart's desire!

So... I say "Yes" again and "bring it on!" Here we go, God, woo hoo!

The End of Atkins

Well, I guess it's official. I am a quitter. There has got to be a better way, and I will keep searching until I find it. Because even though I am a "meat-atarian", I just can't take another steak! No, really, I just can't.

Here's the score after 11 1/2 days: minus 6 pounds and 4 inches. Not bad.

Stayed tuned for my next endeavor (whatever that will be).

Atkins - Days 7, 8, & 9

Report on Friday: still feel about the same; kinda tired and nauseas in the afternoon. I think eating the apple does help, though. Friday night we had company for supper. I "cheated" a little because Dean put raspberries in the salad and I didn't pick them out. But the biggest challenge was NOT eating any of the dessert. I actually amazed myself with my self-control - I did not eat Chocolate Chunk Buttercream Bars, I did not eat Belgian Fruit (chocolate covered). Yeah! me.

Report on Saturday: I worked all day and we had a BBQ. I sampled the new burgers which do contain wheat (oh well) and I also ate some pork with wheat. It's so hard to find pure meat in "convenience" foods. Other than that, I did great.

Sunday. Father's Day. (Happy Father's Day to all the great dads out there, by the way!) I planned to cheat. I knew we'd be going out to eat and so I gave myself permission to eat whatever I wanted. So don't even ask. The good news is that I weighed myself this morning and I've lost 5 pounds in the past 6 days. I just hope I don't gain it all back the minute this diet is over!

Atkins - Day 6

Today is still Thursday, June 17th, but it's 9 pm so it's okay to report on my day. I did really well until mid-afternoon. No severe cravings for anything and I felt fine. But around 3 o'clock, I started feeling nauseous again. So I've decided to "cheat" a little (maybe "modify" would be a better word) and I'm going to eat an apple in the afternoons. We'll see how that works tomorrow. Stay tuned....

Atkins - Day 5

Today is actually Day 6, but it's only 9am, so I'm reporting on yesterday.

I was SO ready to quit! It's actually not that terrible. I know those two sentences don't really go together, but the sugar cravings are pretty bad. And the worst thing was around 4:30 / 5:00, when I was thinking about supper. My 3-day menu plan said to have steak and a small salad with cucumbers. Sounds good, right? Wrong. I was actually nauseated by the thought of eating a steak! Pizza sounded sooo much better. I started wondering about adding in fruits and maybe the occasional pasta... but then I went and weighed myself, and I've lost 2 pounds in 2 days! (Wow - now that's motivation!)

Also, I did NOT eat the carrot cake that was served at HTVOG last night, and when my friend (who didn't know about this diet) handed me some wine gums, I gave them right back! "Good job, Cherie!"

So, I will keep going for one more day and we'll see about tomorrow!

Atkins - Day 4

Today is Tuesday, June 15th - 6:15pm.

Yesterday, after writing that very eloquent blog, and then going to work for 2 whole hours, I went camping. Just me. I was planning on 2 nights, but due to circumstances that I won't discuss here, I came home early. I'm trying to remember what all day yesterday was like, and then today. Mostly it's all about peeing. I cannot believe how much urine I'm producing! Like every hour just about. And not little piddling amounts either (pun intended)! I am also craving sweets! Anything sweet - ice cream, candy, fruit, even gum!

That's about it. I guess these blogs are going to be pretty short. I'm off to eat a chicken now (just the breast, sigh).

ATKINS - DAY 3

Regardless of the time stamped on the bottom of this post, in reality it is 3:39 am. I woke up at 1 and fought my way back to sleep. Then I woke up at 3:15 and here we are!

I started the "Induction Phase" of the Atkins Diet on Saturday (June 12, 2010 for those of you who like to be precise). Why did I do this you may ask? Because I jokingly said to a friend, "Is it possible to lose 20 pounds in 2 weeks?" And she said yes! (Dr. Atkins makes no such promises, I'm afraid to say - his cautiously worded estimate is 3 - 9 pounds, depending on how metabolically resistant I am. But I'm an optimist, so I'm hoping for at least twice that.

And for those of you who have never heard of the Atkins Diet and don't know what an "Induction Phase" is - I will tell you! Meat, meat, and more meat. A few (a very few) veggies - and only certain ones. Eggs. Cheese (but only 3-4 ounces per day). And that's IT, folks! He wants you to give up caffeine altogether, but I've mixed my regular coffee half and half with decaf. I need some sanity, after all. And you can have diet pop - but only if it's sweetened with sucralose (Splenda), not aspartame. Fortunately, both Crush and Schweppes make diet pops with sucralose. So, basically, the Induction Phase is high protein / low carb; and the premise is that if I follow this diet, my body will start burning all the fat it's been storing for such a rainy day as this.

Before I started on this diet, I made a menu plan for myself that ensured some variety while still sticking to the "rules". It gives me a 3-day cycle. I knew I wouldn't be able to stick to the diet without seeing on paper what my options were - otherwise, I would open the fridge door and declare "there is nothing to eat", and then find something proscribed - like donuts!

So,... Recall of Day 1: ate a lot. I mean, a lot. Peed a lot. (I mean a lot). And felt hungry and tired all day. The worst part was actually the very first thing in the morning when I put cream in my coffee instead of 1% like I have been doing for the past year. Wow! does it ever change the flavour - and not for the better, in my opinion. Also, I went to Walmart, and right down the middle of the aisle was not one, not two, but three giant displays of sugary treats (marshmellow bananas, marshmellow strawberries, etc.)! Oh, it was nasty!

Went to bed a little bit early because I was feeling so tired. Slept okay until 4:25 am - I stretched in my sleep and my left calf muscle knotted up something fierce. I had to get out of bed and stand on it to release the knot. It really hurt! But this has happened to me before (not frequently) so I'm not sure if it's related to the diet or not.

Recall of Day 2: a lot less hungry. Food was not on my mind. My stomach felt a little out of sorts - and that's the best way I know how to describe it. Not really upset or sick feeling - just not quite normal. I went to Le Metro for some more meats and a package of mushrooms. I had to pass all the beautiful, colourful, delicious-looking fruits; then I had to pass the breads (actually that one was okay - no bread cravings so far); and then, oh then, I decided to buy a treat for Dean and Laura - a package of cinnamon donuts! I could hardly stand to touch the container! Throw it into the cart! Bury it under the grocery bag!

Slept poorly. Was defeated by wakefullness. Wrote blog. (It's 4:11 now).

Tune in later tonight (or possibly tomorrow morning) for a report on Day 3. :)

Overhaul

Wow. I have a huge problem before I even start to write this thing: what to call it? "The Battle of the Bulge", "Fear of Man Otherwise Known as Identity Crisis", or "The Temple".

I'll make comments from all three perspectives and then maybe the winning title will present itself.

"The Battle of the Bulge". We've all been there. North America (and yes, that includes YOU, Canada) houses the (pronounced 'thee') most overweight, obese people on the planet. The diet industry is the number one industry in both Canada and the US. We're talking trillions. So what do I have to say that hasn't been said a million times before by at least a million people. Nothing really, except "this time, it's personal!" Yes, it is time for yours truly, to enter the ring and fight the good fight.

Okay. How about "Fear of Man, aka, Identity Crisis"? What's that all about? Well, it's simple - why am I trying to lose weight? So that I will look good to others? So that I can be that skinny girl we all hate when we see her walking down the sidewalk, fitting perfectly into her short shorts, sipping her extra large iced capp? Can I only feel good about myself if I fit into a size 8?
(Here is an interesting aside for you - did you know that clothing manufacturers have resized everything to reflect the "growing" market [pun intended!]. What used to be a size 10 is now an 8 or even a 6. Because no matter how big we grow, no one wants to wear a size 18!) So here I am, thick around the middle, carrying more extra weight than I did when I was 9 months pregnant, and I feel "not good". Is this who I am? Somewhere inside of me is that skinny girl of 19. Do I want to be her again? This really is an identity crisis!

And finally, we come to "The Temple". I'm referring, of course, to the Temple of the Holy Spirit. He resides in me, and the Bible makes it perfectly clear (I hate it when there is no wriggle room!) that my body, my physical body is the place He calls 'home'. What a simply horrid thought. The perfect and holy God of Everything is trying to get along in the mess that I call my body. How much space does He have? I'm going to say "hardly any". Because God certainly can't live in my muscles... they are underused and weak. And He certainly can't live in my stomach... it is too full of unhealthy junk. He probably has some room in my heart... I gave him permission to do an overhaul in there, and I must say, He's done an excellent job - I hardly recognize the place! God has tried to live in my feet. I know this because He wants to take me places.

I think I have answered the question I didn't even know I was asking. The answer is, ask God to overhaul my body the same way He fixed up my heart. He will do it once I've given Him permission. And, perhaps, a little cooperation!

So thank you for listening to this somewhat rambling blog. The title is "overhaul". (Which of course, you already know.... but remember, I wrote everything up to this point with the title screen blank!) BLESSINGS ON YOUR DAY, FOLKS!

What I Saw By the River

The wind is blowing against my face, my arm, my side. It lifts my hair and cools the back of my neck. It teases me - blowing, then stopping; gusting strongly, then stilling; changing directions.

The sun is hot against my back. I feel my body soaking up the rays. Even my eyes feel the penetrating warmth of the sun.

The birds fly by, singly and in groups of three. Some pass quickly - they are on a mission; they have young ones to feed. Others dip and swoop as they go; there is joy and freedom in their flight.

The river is wide here. It bubbles and crests over the rocks. A deep channel in the river is filled with swiftly moving water. This water moves with purpose; with energy and drive. It is single-minded in its rush to the sea. But here, near the shore, the water is much friendlier. Warmer. Welcoming. It, too, is moving, but this water knows it has time to accomplish more than just one purpose. It can explore. It can play. It can be diverted to springs and streams and pools. It can nurture life.

When I close my eyes and open my ears, I hear three distinct sounds. The first is the sound of wind in the trees. Without opening my eyes I can see the leaves dancing. The sound of the wind mingles with the sound of the river as it bubbles and skips over the rocks. The river is always moving, and I suppose, if I listened long enough, I would hear changes in the noise it makes, as water levels rose and fell; as rocks were added or carried away. Perhaps even as the aquatic life within it changed. But for me, here and now, the river is a constant sound that fills my hearing, and so, I cease to notice it. The final sound I hear is that of a cricket in the nearby grass. He is very loud. Such a high-pitched sound; and so brief. Yet I sense the message he is proclaiming over and over with such regularity. It is: "Praise Him. Praise Him. Praise Him".

I want to paint what I see and hear. I want to capture the movement of the birds as they rise and fall, wings a-blur; free in the air above the river. I want to draw this little moth, so small and white; so random in its movements. Even this simple creature is enjoying the day - the water and the sun and the wind. I want to paint these rocks. There are so many. I want to paint them, but I don't want to take the time to sketch each one, in all its uniqueness. My whole world is suddenly full of rocks.

What a beautiful day. What a beautiful world. Thank You, Lord, for giving me eyes to see and ears to hear the beauty You have made. Thank You. Because even if I can't draw or paint it, I can use these words to describe it, and bring it to life for those who cannot see and cannot hear. Thank You, Lord.

How Many Miracles Can You Spot?

Let me just jump ahead to something Sharon said to me that made a lot of sense. She said fear opens the door to more fear, and that what starts as only one fear - say of heights, becomes more and more and more.

I never used to be afraid of anything when I was younger. I remember climbing from my mom’s 3rd floor balcony down to the balcony below hers and from there to the concrete slab above the door to the building and then jumping down from that.
In my early 20’s I dated a man who was also fearless and together we did a lot of crazy things. I thought it was fun at the time, and it was, but there was this one incident that opened the door to fear - he pretended to push me off the top of this steep incline above the Grand River. If he hadn’t held onto my shoulders I would have fallen. I felt actual fear at this time - terror, really. But it was all in fun and no harm was actually meant, so I didn’t think anything of it.
Something else I just thought of while I am writing this: 4 car accidents I’ve been in. The 1st one was when I was a passenger and the driver pulled out to turn left and we got creamed by a really big pickup truck on the driver’s side. Crunch. The 2nd was when I was taking night classes at Mohawk College in Hamilton and I hit a patch of black ice and spun right around. I was trying to maneuver back around to face the right direction, and was sideways in the road when a car came along, hit the same patch of black ice, couldn’t stop, and slid right into me as I watched it all in (seemingly) slow motion. The 3rd was while I was driving school bus. I should have known better. Buses are big. But it was the last day of school and I was in a hurry to get home, so I tried turning right in a narrow lane with a car beside me to my left. As I turned, the back of the bus scraped all along the side of this car, and I didn’t even notice until they followed me down the road honking! The 4th accident was with the bus again. I was at a stop sign. I looked both ways - left, right, left again, and proceeded to make a right turn. As I did, this car came out of nowhere and I smashed into it! I mention all these accidents because almost all of my fears of safety revolve around driving situations. So excuse me for a minute while I bring each of these accidents before Jesus and ask Him to redeem them, forgiving the others and myself......

Okay. Now the cool part of being set free from all these fears. I have to paint a word picture of how I used to be: if I am a passenger in your car, I will try to sit behind you (the driver) so that I cannot see what is going on. If I am beside you (the driver), I will press my foot down on the imaginary brake; I will hold onto the door when we go around curves in the road; and I will gasp in fear if anything sudden or unexpected happens - like another car moving into our lane too quickly. Whether I am driving or not, I am very fearful of the concrete barriers that you find most commonly at construction areas, and I hate going around the curving roads to enter the highways. I am tense. My stomach hurts. My heart pounds in fear during much of the time spent as a passenger. When I do the driving, it is better (because I think I am in control), but I still get tense in heavy traffic and around those places where the lanes narrow and whenever I take the curves in the road too quickly.
So, the 6 of us are driving to South Carolina. That’s 14 hours of driving time, plus another 3 or 4 in breaks (pee breaks, gas breaks, food breaks). I want to drive, because that’s better than being a passenger, but I don’t really like to drive in the dark, or in unfamiliar territory, but I know I can’t drive the whole time. So I’m anxious about Barb and Amelia driving. Do they even know how to drive standard? Maybe they should take my car out and practice with it before the trip (this was one thought I had that I managed to keep to myself). When we first left Brantford, I drove (of course). Eventually, I had to let someone else take over - Barb. I was sort of okay with that because I’ve driven with her before and survived it! I was supposed to be in the back seat resting, but I spent the first 10 minutes or so giving her advice on how to drive my car. (And she was very gracious about it all). I eventually fell asleep, but it was more in self-defense than in trust. At our next stop, Barb was going to switch with Amelia, and whether it was her own wisdom or from God, Barb suggested that I go in the car with Sharon and Lawrence, and Debbie could go in my car for awhile. So I sat up front with Sharon while Lawrence snoozed in the back, and I only turned around to check on my car about 50 or 60 times! And as Sharon is driving, I’m clutching the door, and I’m pressing the imaginary brake, and I’m tense. Eventually she notices and asks me some questions about the root of all this fear. We get to Craig, the guy who pretended to throw me off the cliff (she thought it was hilarious that his name was Craig, as we were driving through the mountains at the time and the fear started at a cliff). So I forgave him and forgave myself and asked Jesus to redeem the whole situation. I cast out fear and left it by the side of the road. (I actually had a picture of me booting it out of the moving car and it tumbling down the verge beside the road! I really liked that image!)
Now I want to test this! Am I really free from these fears? “Sharon, catch up to that car ahead and get too close to it!” We don’t know what the others thought when all of a sudden, the lead car goes zooming away! Eventually, as situations presented themselves during the drive - curves in the road, with steep drop-offs; more traffic; etc - I realized that a very strange thing was happening. My brain was informing me that “you are too close to that car in front of you”, but my body was okay with it. No holding my breath. No tensing up. No upset stomach. It was weird, but definitely a good weird.
And then it was time for another break and another driver change. I was back in my vehicle, driving, and Amelia was up front beside me. She was able to give me a driving tip that I was actually surprised I didn’t know. It’s kind of hard to explain, but it has to do with where your eyes go as you drive through curves in the road. It made a huge difference in how smooth it was and how relaxed I felt. So I’m driving in the mountains. Steep drop-offs on one side and high, rocky cliffs on the other. And warning signs about falling rocks - get Lawrence to tell you his story about that!
And now the tunnel is coming up! Ahh! the dread tunnel. Through a mountain. Two lanes - I had a transport truck on my right and the walls of the tunnel very close on my left. It was okay. Not great. I wasn’t happy about it, but I was okay. When we saw daylight at the end of the tunnel, we were all whooping and hollering, in both cars!

God showed me in a vision the next morning what happened next. And to put it in further context, this area that we were driving in was identified as a stronghold of the enemy and it was, at that time, being contested for by a group of prayer warriors. And this was the geographical location where God had just given me great victory and freedom from fear!
So, as you exit this tunnel, there is a big sign welcoming you to Virginia. We’ve passed out of West Virginia and entered Virginia. God showed me that it was the exact moment when my front tires touched Virginia’s soil (representing the soiled virgin - under attack and sullied by the enemy) that my housing unit cracked.
A few miles further along, it broke in three pieces and my fan belt got all twisted up and wrapped around everything. The first thing I noticed was my engine warning light came on and the battery light. I couldn’t figure out why the battery light - the engine was running! But I shut off all extra power drains - the CD player, the headlights - and we radioed Lawrence that I had these warning lights on. We kept driving for a while and then I noticed that it was getting harder to steer. We radioed that I was losing my power steering. Just then, Lawrence pulled over at a rest stop and I followed him in. I had to back up with no power steering at all and move off to the side of this road.
We looked under the hood, saw the mess, and called CAA (which is AAA in the States). Thank God for Barb! Then we waited 2 or 3 hours for the tow truck. Somebody had the brilliant idea of calling the rental car agency right away (instead of waiting until the car was towed to wherever) and so, at 10 minutes to 6, we called Enterprise. “So sorry, no one here will help you. We close at 6 and are going home.” Okay, let’s try the other car rental place (Hertz). But it’s after 6 by now and no one answers.
Barb says, "let’s praise God". So I get out my guitar (I knew I brought it for a reason!) and we start singing. Be Glorified. I Exalt Thee. Jesus, Name Above All Names. Holy God.
And then Barb is talking to sweet young lady at Triple A, and she tells us she will find us a car. She does. She connects us with Barry, from Hertz, which is located at Mercer Airport - 10 minutes from the garage where they are taking my car. And Barry will meet us up there whenever we get there, because at this time, the tow truck still hadn’t come and we couldn’t even give him an ETA. Barb had a sense of God - looking to and fro across the earth for someone He could call on to help His kids!
Eventually the tow truck comes. And now we have another problem. There are 6 of us and the Echo (Sharon and Lawrence’s car) only holds 5 - and a very squished 5 at that! No one can ride with the tow truck driver. So he tells me to get in my car, lay the seat all the way flat (so the state police don’t see me - ‘cause you can’t do this in Virginia, but you can in West Virginia, and we are a few miles into Virginia!) He asks me if I like roller coaster rides and that gives me my first clue as to what I’m getting into. The car, with me in it, is hoisted up onto this flat-bed tow truck, jerking and swaying, and feeling not at all secure and off we go. Back through the tunnel. To Bluefield, WV. My car has been turned off for several hours by now and I’m cold. And this is a very strange way to travel. I wasn't afraid, but I really didn't like it, so I sang, and I praised God, and I shivered! I could really sense the prayers of the other 5, especially as I went back through that tunnel. Their prayers felt kind of like a cocoon or a warm wave. (God told me later that my friends were fearsome warriors and that He loved them!) But I was still freezing! Then I remembered Amelia’s story about almost freezing to death and how Jesus carried her several miles to a house where she could get help. So I asked the Holy Spirit to come and warm me up.

Getting the rental car was the only easy thing about this whole adventure (and it was more like a battle than something exciting), except for the roads. Snowy. Icy. And steep! Lawrence drove me and Barb up to this no-longer-in-service airport (while the other 3 waited at the pizza place across the road from the garage) and we found Barry! He gave us a Ford Escape for the same price as a compact, and he didn’t charge for adding Barb as an additional driver!
And now is where I tell you about another miracle. It kind of hides itself. But I still believe it was a gift from God. No one got frustrated. No one got upset or impatient or fleshy. We all were just filled with love for one another and peace from God.

So that’s pretty much the end of the story. We drove the rental car from WV, back through the tunnel (God told me it was confirmation of my victory over Fear, and His victory over me! and also represented rebirth again into His life, plus there were aspects of not going around my mountain 40 times, but through it!). We finally reached Morningstar in South Carolina around midnight? Twelve-thirty? Late, anyway. Very late. We checked in, reserved our seats for the conference (probably the only advantage to arriving so late!) and went to bed!
Of course, I was thinking/worrying about my car. What would I do? I knew it would be very difficult to get parts for - it’s an Isuzu Rodeo. Would this garage be able to fix my car? And would it be ready by Sunday? And how was I supposed to pick it up? They’re closed on Sunday. I didn’t want to drive all the way back to WV on Saturday to pick it up! What if it couldn’t be fixed? Then I’d have to take the rental car home (costing a small fortune) and come all the way back here another time to get my car.
All these thoughts are rolling around in my brain. I gave them to God. I said to God, I just can’t worry about all this - it’s too big for me. So You take it, Father! It’s not too big for You!
And the really cool thing is - He did! He took care of it all and I was able to have that faith that the entire car situation was in His hands.

And in case you need to know the very end of this story.... my car was repaired and we were able to pick it up Sunday on our way back through West Virginia. We all arrived home safely! Praise God and Amen!

Is God Blind?

God says, “I am not blind. I am not deaf. I am not unaware of the need for Me down below (on the earth).”

The God of the Universe and Everything Else is aware of us. Intimately and personally. He knows our needs. He sees our struggles. He is aware of just how desperate we are and how powerless we are over our cirumstances. And He cares! He is full of compassion towards us. He cries when we hurt. He mourns when we choose to live without Him. He is desperate for us.

But then God says, “I sent My Son. He sent you. You go!”

Oh my! What does that mean?!? This is what Jesus said about His ministry on earth; about why He came. “I came to seek and save the lost. To bind up the broken-hearted. To set the captives free.” God sent His Son into the world to answer all the cries of His children. Are you lost? Without purpose or direction? Wondering why you were even born? Are you hurt? Lonely? Poor? Grieving? Depressed? Are you addicted to drugs? Have terrible habits that you can’t seem to break (anger; violence; abuse)? Do you even know that God is real and that if you haven't chosen to live for Him, then Satan has you by default! Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. The Way out. The Way to live; to have purpose & fulfillment. The Truth. Satan lies. Jesus is Truth. Jesus is the Word of God. The Word is in the Bible. The Words in the Bible are True. Jesus loves you. He loves you so much He died for you. Jesus is the Life. Life now, and forevermore. A Life of freedom.

God sent Jesus to accomplish His purpose of reconciling sinful man (mankind, which includes women and children!) with a Holy God. If something impure mixes with something that is pure, then the pure substance becomes impure. God cannot have fellowship or communion with sin. So Jesus’ shed blood becomes the neutralizing agent that washes out all our impurities and makes it possible for us to “mix” with God.

Jesus commissioned His Followers to go out to all the people (all the people; everywhere) and tell them the Good News. Tell them that they could be free; made whole; made right. Tell them that a real relationship with God is possible. Tell them that God loves them!

Jesus is sending me out! To tell everyone that He loves them! To show them the love of God.

To you who are reading this right now - “Father, what do You have to say to them? What do You want to show them?” God says to you that He loves you. He loves you. Say it out loud, right now. "God loves me." He wants to show you the reality of your existence. The truth of what He’s all about and why He created you. “Holy Spirit, I ask You to come right now to where this person who is reading this is. Show them, Holy Spirit, show them.” Just breathe for a moment and let this sink in. God loves you. Jesus died for you. You can have the life God intended for you. Tell your mind to shut up for a minute, with all it’s doubts and arguments, and just let your spirit, your soul within you breathe this truth in: GOD loves me. Close your eyes and breath. Say to your self, “God loves me”.

***

If you want to have this real relationship and fellowship with God that He is inviting you to have, then say this prayer, out loud.
“Jesus, I know that I am a sinner. That I have done wrong. I know that my sin keeps me separate from God. Thank You, Jesus, for taking all my sins, and for paying the cost of those sins - for dying in my place. Thank You, Jesus, that You defeated Sin and Death on the Cross and were victorious! I claim You as my Lord and Savior. I say that from this day forward, I will follow You. I receive Your gift of eternal life. I receive Your gift of the Holy Spirit to live within me and to reveal Truth to me. I am Yours, Lord Jesus. Amen.

And now you need to find someone to talk to. It’s always good to get connected with a local church in your area. There are many resources out there! Tell someone (hey, tell many someones!) that you have become a Christian, a Follower of Jesus Christ. And get your hands on a Bible. Read it. Read the whole thing! (But you might want to start with the Book of John, which is in the New Testament - it goes Matthew, Mark, Luke, and then John - it will only take you 2 or 3 hours to read all of John).

I love you. See you in Heaven!

The Power of Apology

A few years ago, some pollster called me and asked me if I thought the Canadian government should apologize to the Native Peoples for taking their children away and putting them in government-run schools. This happened before I was born. A second question was whether or not I thought the Roman Catholic Church should apologize for the actions of a few of it's priests who sexually abused altar boys. In both instances, I had a hard time accepting that any instution could or should apologize for the actions of a few of its members, especially when these actions took place in the distant past.

Today, I was listening to the news and I heard that the Prime Minister of Britian is going to apologize to the "Home Children" (children sent to Canada and other British colonies during the Second World War who were basically made into indentured servants by having to work for the families that "bought" them until they were 18).

And I have to say, my attitude has changed completely. I thought about young King Josiah, who was himself a righteous man, but when he discovered the truth about his people's sinful ways he was filled with remorse and lead his people to repentance. (You can read about King Josiah in the Book of 2Kings, chapter 22 - in the Bible).

So, when I hear what Prime Minister Brown is going to do, my heart rejoices. I know what an incredibly healing thing this is going to be. And I think it is a very powerful thing that our Canadian Prime Minister has formally apologized to the Native Peoples for all the atrocities done unto them by us. How can we have unity in this land without such healing? And again, what a powerful healing and restoration for the Pope to apologize for the sins of the Catholic Church.

I would like to state now that for any and all sins of my forefathers, I am sorry. I repent of all injustices, all slanders, all untruths, all unrighteous acts that my ancestors have committed. I declare that from this day forward, as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. We will follow His ways, and walk in His precepts. Amen and amen.

My Love/Hate Relationship with Change

I hate change. Hate, hate, hate. I want to keep everything exactly the same as it was, as it is. No new coke. Bring back Wendy's Big Bacon - don't call it something else and ask me if I want to make it a double or a triple. Just keep it the same. And please, stop changing my city. All these brand new sub-divisions spring up overnight and then my friends have the gall to move there and now I have to find them. Didn't there used to be a farm here? And don't change my TV. Why is it that the shows I love are always the ones to get cancelled? Whatever happened to Manimal? or Beauty and the Beast? I really hate change. I want my world to continue on in the manner I've grown comfortable with.

I love change! The new; the exciting; the fresh! I love exploring - whether it be the mall or the countryside. I love travelling and seeing different places and people. I get so excited when I have the opportunity to go somewhere new (come back and read about my trip to South Carolina in a couple of weeks!). And I love to learn new things: sign language, tying knots, cross stitch, archery, driving standard. These are wonderful things to experience. And I love spring! It's full of change - and rapid change at that.

I love how change fosters growth and development and maturity.

I hate goodbyes. Friendships are so rare nowadays; and it's so easy to lose touch with loved ones. Friends move away, and you have to say goodbye. I hate this kind of change. And I hate feeling old. Kids I knew "way back when" are adults now, and some of them have kids of their own. When did that happen? How is it possible that that much time has gone by?

I love seeing personal changes. Like when your new baby takes their first steps. And before you know it, it's their first day of school. You see your kids grow up before your eyes and you rejoice in their achievements. With friends, and even with yourself, you look back and remember the way they (or you) were. And you see how far they've come. More responsible. Less prone to anger. More patient. Less self-focused. These are the changes we seek and hope for.

Someone once said that the true definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I don't want to be insane, so I must want change!

(Sigh) I love change.

The Joys of Camping

It's a cold and dreary February day and my thoughts are turning towards camping. Why? Because I got "won" a new tent from Ebay and it just showed up with the very handsome UPS driver. It's a great tent! Perfect for Algonquin, where less is definitely more. I've tried several times to express just what camping in Algonquin Park means to me, and I don't think I've ever quite succeeded.

First of all, camping in Algonquin is wilderness camping. No cars, no tent trailers, no picnic tables or electricity or running water or "real" toilets. It's a completely different experience from your local conservation area (or even provincial park). Which I still do, and enjoy very much; but wilderness camping is something I do almost because I have to. It's necessary for my soul, or something profound like that. It's the untouched nature. It's the solitude. It's the hard work!

These are the highlights of my trips into Algonquin Park (which for anybody who doesn't know, is a huge Provincial Park run by the Ontario Gov't and designated as "wilderness" so there are very strict rules about building, construction, roads, and even air traffic within the park boundaries):
Get up in the wee hours of the morning; finish loading the car; drive for appx 6 hours to the Park Office in Kearney, ON (which is about half-an-hour north of Huntsville); register; drive for another hour or so down a gravel and dirt road as the sun slowly rises above the mist; stop and allow a family of deer to cross the road.
Finally get to the end of the road and drive up to the water's edge; untie the canoe; load everything into it; go park & lock up the car; get in the canoe and paddle across the lake (um, about 3 hours?); get out; take everything out of the canoe; pick up the canoe and carry it down the path to the next lake (maybe a half-hour's walk; maybe more if the canoe is really heavy); go back and get the rest of my gear. How many trips back and forth will this take? (Never just 2).
Load up the canoe and paddle across the next river; do the portage thing again. (Some trips involve one portage; some 2 or 3 or even 4 - I've never done more than that, though others have.) At some point, finally arrive at a campsite. You can tell where the sites are because they all have red signs posted. (As do the portages, so you don't get lost.) Anyway, check out the campsite - how far away is the "treasure box" (that's the toilet!) - too far isn't good and neither is too close! Some campsites are better situated than others. Too many trees, not enough trees, too rocky, too uneven, too small, etc. Some are great, but you have to climb an embankment to get to them, which is hard carrying a huge, heavy backpack. And some have nowhere to "park" your canoe. It's not good to just let it bang against the shore - there needs to be space to drag it up and preferably flip it over. So if this one won't do, paddle down to the next and look again.
Finally find a decent site; by now it's mid-afternoon and I've been on the go for at least 12 hours. I still need to set up the tent, and then I need to gather dry wood for the fire, and then I need to filter some water from the lake, and then I need to take some Tylenol and lie down for a while! I'm usually too exhausted to eat much the first night - maybe cup o' soup or some cheese and crackers. Before it gets dark, I'll need to whittle some wood shavings for the morning fire and possibly go in the canoe to hunt down a fallen tree or something. Old beaver dams make for great wood foraging. It's usually dry and it's usually hardwood, so it burns longer. I go to bed shortly after it gets dark and I'm too tired to notice the strange rustling sounds in the woods.
Days are spent gathering wood for the fire, and cutting it up. I bring a saw and a hatchet and a knife for this purpose. I also filter all my water - even if it looks clean, I don't want to risk "Beaver Fever". I try to do most of my cooking on the camp stove, but nothing beats a real fire for s'mores! I also read and fish and swim and take a nap in my hammock.
On the second night, if the sky is clear, I'll stay up late - until 11 or 12 o'clock, and then I'll head out in the canoe. This is why I came here. This is why I travelled 12 hours. The canoe, on the lake, in the night. I look up. In fact, I lie down in the bottom of the canoe and just let my gaze try to take it all in. The sky hangs above me. It is the opposite of a featureless void. It is solid. It has dimension. The stars move within it, some seem to be beyond the sky, some are much closer; some even streak across it and then vanish within Earth's atmosphere. It is very light up there, in the dark. I cannot describe how this makes me feel. Big and little at the same time. Both significant and insignificant. I remember in the Bible where it says that God knows each of the stars by name. What does that mean for me? Am I bigger than a star to God? More important? The Bible also says He had counted all the hairs on my head. I'm getting dizzy with this huge expanse of sky above me, and with all this contemplation about God.
At some point during my stay, I will find myself at the end of my strength, or at the end of my abilities, or at the end of something. Maybe I'll get hurt. Maybe I'll get scared by those killer chipmunks that scamper around my tent at night. Maybe I won't be strong enough to hoist the food barrel or climb the embankment with the canoe on my shoulders. Maybe it will rain so much that my tent starts to leak. But eventually, something will happen - it always does; and that's when the other thing happens. The second reason I come here - travelling 12 hours and working so hard. Because when I come to the end of me, that's when I come to beginning of God. When I finally realize that He is God, and I am not. That Someone Else is master of this universe, and I'm not it! It's a relief! Trying to be God is terribly exhausting and mentally draining. The worry. The striving. The controlling (or trying to control, rather!). I really need to be reminded that God (the very real and very present God) is here, and He is in control. In my everyday life, this is so easy to forget; after all, I'm the one that brings home the paycheque, I'm the one that schedules my time, I'm the one that deals with Laura's (my daughter) 16-year-old angst. I'm the one. But out here, in the wild, I am definitely not the one. I don't control the wind, the waves, the rain. Everything I'm not in control of is right here in my face, reminding me. So "thank You, God" for this pain, this fear, this weakness, this lack of control. And "thank You, God" for that amazing expanse of sky that speaks to me of You (even if I don't understand exactly what it's speaking - it still speaks!) You are real, and You love me. That's all I really need to hear, to know.
The last day. Time to head out. I pack everything up- all the food is gone so I have more space. One last check of the campsite to make sure I've left it in pristine condition, then into the canoe and off I go. Paddle, paddle, paddle. Do the portage. Only 3 trips this time - everything is lighter. Paddle, paddle, paddle. Repeat until finally the car park comes into sight. Do I have my car keys?!! Whew! Okay, load up and drive off. No need to stop in Kearney (they don't care if you don't make it out - that's for the folks back home to worry about!), but I usually do anyway - it's the first bathroom with hot running water! A 6 hour drive back to Brantford - sometimes more if it's rush hour near Toronto. And then home at last.
And for the next couple of weeks, reason number 3 (for doing this wilderness camping thing) will be with me. Gratitude for what I have. Gratitude for all the everyday blessings in my life. A real bed to sleep in. Hot baths. A stove and a fridge and a sink with running water. Toilets that flush. Clean water to drink. It will all become common-place soon enough, and I'll be back to taking it all for granted; but for awhile, I will be filled with gratitude for these simple things. And mindful that these are blessings - gifts to be appreciated and not to be wasted or neglected. When God put Adam and Eve in the Garden, He didn't tell them to chop all the trees down and pollute the water and destroy the natural habitat. He told them to care for it all, to be caretakers. I think we are supposed to still be working at that original job. So "thank You, God" for reminding me to do my part. To support causes that protect the environment. To "go green". To not take all this for granted.

And that is what I'm looking forward to on this cold and dreary February day.

rant against swearing

I was channel-surfing last night and I came across ___________(fill in the name of the show that I never watch so I can't tell you what it's called, but I've seen previews for it and one of the main characters has really thick bottle glasses and everybody swears like crazy on this show).

It was a court-room scene, and the one guy had been told that he wasn't allowed to use profanity in the courtroom, and so he was trying to defend himself without swearing. In the end, he started to speak in his usual, customary way, and asked the judge to allow him to swear because he couldn't properly express himself without it - and therefore he would be denied his constitutional right of "freedom of expression".

It got me thinking. I am so old-fashioned that I've missed out on some huge cultural shift, where f-shots are an integral part of speech? When I was growing up, I did my fair share of swearing, but..., I knew when and where it was appropriate and when and where it wasn't. You never swore around Grandma! You never swore in public places. You swore when you were with your friends and you swore in front of your parents when you wanted to shock them or express your independence.

How did swearing become a socially-acceptable practise? I can't be the only one who wishes it were not! I just watched a few YouTube videos of a comedienne named Joanne Robertson, and she is hilarious - without once being rude, crude, or offensive in any way! Other people who have watched these clips have left comments, and I was pleased to see how many people were appreciative of the lack of swearing.

Now, this blog is called "good news", and to be honest, this rant doesn't seem to contain any good news at all. I've raised an issue and I've asked a question. Now it's up to you (to all of us) to do something about it, or not. Maybe the good news is that we have this freedom. No one forces us to watch that TV show or others like it. No one forces us to listen to our co-workers and give them our unspoken approval when they use profanity. We have the freedom to protest. We have the freedom to speak up, to speak out.

I'm leaving this one with you.

Thanks, Mel

February 1, 2010

This is my very first blog and I want to thank my friend Melanie for doing it first and proving that even those of us who are "techno challenged" as she put it, can do this!

Getting set up was very easy with this site, the hardest part was choosing a name for it. So, eventually, I came up with Good News - and I guess that means that I will only publish good stuff. No bad days. No depressing stories. No world tragedies. Hmm.... yes, I can do that!

So, who reads these things anyway? I guess I'll just put my thoughts out there and see what happens....