tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50127804743939314702024-03-18T22:47:37.135-07:00My ReflectionsI became a Christian as a teenager and my life with God is an ongoing journey. Here are some glimpses into that journey and the things I am learning along the way.Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-75221492429651017432022-12-05T12:45:00.001-08:002022-12-05T12:45:33.828-08:00The Power of Love<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg9jUAi3b7wiIumuTOaaVxyil4ulKifA8TuaHVVFvYkNLmu5PHzm3nmIO57TibiYl4__UoUT4KDG8hA5jrIEQ3eWJPKpXTuV7RXBK5cYrktNXvA3GZrfvzixipQzUjZV6jbrR-VIDN1Ps1poW-RHnCKGSSQc11QA3gOkMmwS9V-uhXSduQQeA9amVrXA/s1920/key-2471007_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1236" data-original-width="1920" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg9jUAi3b7wiIumuTOaaVxyil4ulKifA8TuaHVVFvYkNLmu5PHzm3nmIO57TibiYl4__UoUT4KDG8hA5jrIEQ3eWJPKpXTuV7RXBK5cYrktNXvA3GZrfvzixipQzUjZV6jbrR-VIDN1Ps1poW-RHnCKGSSQc11QA3gOkMmwS9V-uhXSduQQeA9amVrXA/s320/key-2471007_1920.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-US">We’ve all
heard of “earworms”, annoying little ditties that get stuck on replay in our
minds till we think we’ll go crazy. I am beginning to think not all earworms
are bad. There is a chorus of an old hymn that recently popped into my head and
stuck there. I</span>’m sure I haven’t heard it in years, and yet there it was,
ringing through my thoughts as clearly as if sung by a choir. It said, “Love
lifted me. Love lifted me. When nothing else could help, love lifted me.” Maybe
it’s not just there to annoy me or drive me crazy. Maybe it is actually a
message that I need to be reminded of.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I looked up the lyrics to the hymn since I couldn’t remember
them after so many years. It was meant as a call to salvation. but I don’t
think that’s the context my earworm is referring to. Becoming a Christian doesn’t
mean you no longer have storms to contend with. In fact, life is full of
billowing waves and angry seas punctuated by times of peace and refreshing. Do
we walk or sink during those storms, that is the question.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Love that is absolute and unconditional is the key. We don’t
find that anywhere else but in God. No matter how deep and enduring the love of
a spouse, or a parent, or a friend may be, it might fade in the face of
rejection or betrayal. It’s not easy to love with no strings or expectations
attached. Add to that, I’m sure I have moments when I am just plain hard to
love. We have a natural propensity for growing weary, giving up, or trying to
protect ourselves. Only God does it perfectly. He never gives up on us. While
we were still his enemies, he was willing to die for us. His love doesn’t
depend on whether we love him back, or how well we perform. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Struggling with the chains of poor self-worth, insecurity, depression,
shame, an inability to forgive, trust issues, a need to control, fears of all
sorts? All these things are common, even among Christians. I particularly
struggle with a need to perform well and a fear of failure. We get stuck in old
patterns of thinking and feeling and can’t seem to make any headway in our
transformational journey to become more like Jesus. If only we knew, really
knew, what it means to be loved absolutely and unconditionally. I don’t mean
just in our heads, but in our experience. That kind of love is what transforms
us and sets us free from our chains. We need to know and experience and dwell
in that perfect love.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There are so many people that I wish I could help to overcome
the things they struggle with. I wrack my brain trying to think of some advice
to give, some wise counsel or eloquent prayer that will heal them or at least
make a difference. It often leaves me feeling helpless, frustrated and depressed.
Maybe the best help I can give is to love them the way God does. I fail in that
on a daily basis, especially when I try to do it on my own. It isn’t about
trying harder or working at it. The only way I can love the way God does is to
soak up that love for myself until it overflows. Maybe that’s what I need to do
today, just sit in his presence and receive his love. It’s the most powerful
force in the universe. When nothing else could help, love lifted me, and it will
lift you too if you let it. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Was it an earworm, or was it the Holy Spirit? If it drives
me to God rather than driving me crazy, I think I know the answer to that. May I
be a sponge today and may the love I receive from God saturate me to such an
extent that it can’t help but overflow to everyone I come in contact with. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: #191b26; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/pixel2013-2364555/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=2471007" style="cursor: pointer; margin: initial; outline: none !important; padding: initial;"><span style="color: #191b26;">S. Hermann / F. Richter</span></a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=2471007" style="cursor: pointer; margin: initial; outline: 0px; padding: initial;"><span style="color: #191b26;">Pixabay</span></a></span><span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></i><i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-32444034903178152372022-11-10T16:55:00.001-08:002022-11-11T03:09:05.701-08:00The Best Day of My Life - Attitude Determines Altitude<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSax3itK1lhaSDHMk3PWRk8XbGY8qIRG_GpqAyWDh58DlKJHhrGmrKxFE_wAq1BrNfnR2G59eoUrB7l2wK8XchXIWTWExlHkMXfecqTAhTW2879OyDFicpJWcTbybWxi0SSvHKn8th8FIn7uJWP8HqnkpfQa2wX9LmRvxTHdlRKxEfst-Mcmfd633_6Q/s1920/sunset-gbfc9309fa_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSax3itK1lhaSDHMk3PWRk8XbGY8qIRG_GpqAyWDh58DlKJHhrGmrKxFE_wAq1BrNfnR2G59eoUrB7l2wK8XchXIWTWExlHkMXfecqTAhTW2879OyDFicpJWcTbybWxi0SSvHKn8th8FIn7uJWP8HqnkpfQa2wX9LmRvxTHdlRKxEfst-Mcmfd633_6Q/s320/sunset-gbfc9309fa_1920.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />This week I am attending a writing retreat called ReFocus
2022. It was something I really needed. Badly. Many of you may be thinking that
I have been flying off the radar for some time now as evidenced by the lack of
any new content on my blog or website in what feels like ages. In truth, I haven’t
been flying at all. In truth, I have been within a whisker of giving up writing
altogether – a legacy of the brain fog and depression associated with my cancer
journey. However, it seems God is not done with me yet, as a writer that is. I
have experienced some significant improvement in my ability to concentrate over
the past month and here I am, at the keyboard once again.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I recently watched the movie, City Slickers, or should I say
re-watched it. It’s an old movie, a comedy where three friends from the city take
a working holiday on a cattle ranch. It’s hilariously funny but has some
profound lessons in it as well. In one scene each of them is asked to recount
their best and worst days. One of them describes a horrible day that leaves
everyone listening stunned at how bad it was. When they want to know what his
best day was, he simply answers that it was the same day. Now there’s a thought
worth thinking about.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One of the devotional messages here at the retreat included
the story of a man who, when he turned 50, declared with confidence that the
coming decade would be the best of his life, and it was. When he turned 60, he
said the same thing, and it turned out that it was. I thought, why not carry
that into every area of my life. I determined then and there that this would be
the best week of my life. Not only that, I decided to set out each morning
declaring that today would be the best day of my life. A friend once told me
that attitude determines altitude and that stuck with me. If I want to fly, I
need to change my attitude, press the “reset” button on the way I’m doing life.
This seemed a good way to start. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Of course, the only way you can say that sort of thing with
any confidence is if you understand that every single day has the potential to
be the best one of your life when God is in it, no matter what it might hold. I
made a choice many years ago to give my life to God and receive His in return.
That means He is present in every one of my days. That’s His promise and my
reality though I often tend to forget it. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So, what about those days when everything goes wrong, bad
things happen, or I mess up somehow? Let’s face it, not every day is sunshine
and roses. How can I look back at the end of it and call it the best day of my
life? How can anybody? The big question is, did I meet God there? Did I
remember that He is always present? Did I let His love (which is bigger than
any problem by the way) fill me, sustain me, strengthen me, comfort me? That’s
what love does. Knowing that He loves me, and experiencing it in my darkest
moments, is what can make my worst day also my best day.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Moments like that transform us. They are the birthplace of
the confidence and peace that should be the mark of every believer’s life. That’s
the hope that we can offer to the world. His promise can become anyone’s
reality and every single day has the potential to be the best day of our lives.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay</i></p>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-55760152892275192242021-05-10T12:17:00.000-07:002021-05-10T12:17:44.034-07:00I Wish I'd Said It More<p> <br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjwQc1q44T6tbcTM77in4JUvsW1pzI01ipaJu562HU2eeAB_nklrAAcJXPhBDYD8JZOKYuQAs5ytRQaH_S37RVWoHd-N145XtJmHEBZPVgOJICTJzU366MOTMNSo499Fvl2zKtgcVa3SW/s2048/20210510_145951+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1460" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjwQc1q44T6tbcTM77in4JUvsW1pzI01ipaJu562HU2eeAB_nklrAAcJXPhBDYD8JZOKYuQAs5ytRQaH_S37RVWoHd-N145XtJmHEBZPVgOJICTJzU366MOTMNSo499Fvl2zKtgcVa3SW/s320/20210510_145951+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></div>At this
time of year and especially around Mother’s Day I find myself reflecting on
that most difficult of roles - motherhood. I wonder if my mother had times when
she felt like a failure or had doubts about herself and her ability to do the
right thing when it came to my brothers and me. I know I can see my own flaws
all too well, so she probably did have those same fears and doubts now and
then. We screw up, all of us. There’s no denying it. I wish I could tell her
now how much I appreciate who she was to me and how much I love and miss her. I
should have told her more often when I had the chance. She’s been gone 18 years
now so that chance has passed me by. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When my Mom
became a mother, she must have been the least prepared woman on the planet. She
didn’t have a happy or secure childhood to fall back on or any kind of example
to follow. She was born in 1929 in what was once called Yugoslavia. Her mother
was only around 16 years old at the time, a young wife in an arranged marriage.
Shortly after my mother’s birth, my grandfather decided to emigrate to Canada
where he planned to earn enough money to send for his wife and new daughter.
Unfortunately, that was just about when the Great Depression was starting, and
it would be at least 10 years before he could make good on his promise. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My mother and her mother spent those 10 years shunted from
relative to relative with my grandmother having to work at menial jobs to keep
them going while my mother was left to the care of others. When the money for
their passage finally arrived they made the journey to a new country to rejoin
a man who was virtually a stranger. Two years later my grandmother died at the
age of 28, leaving my mother alone with the father she barely knew.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When my mother married my father it was on her 17<sup>th</sup>
birthday and at that time she didn’t even know exacty how babies were made. It
was left to the local priest to explain it to her. She was 18 when my oldest
brother was born. The picture I’ve shared was part of a larger photo of her
holding him when he was a just a couple of months old. It’s how I picture her
in heaven. She looks the happiest and proudest I’ve ever seen her, at least in
that moment. But what was it really like for her? I’m sure she got plenty of advice
on baby care from her numerous sisters-in-law. My Dad was from a large family.
Still, I wonder how confident she felt on the inside. She had to learn as she
went and was literally winging it from day one. Some people think that being a
mother just comes naturally, instinctively, but not every woman is a natural. Some
need to work hard at it and often find themselves at a loss to know what to do.
Even though these days there are so many resources available for new moms
compared to what my Mom had, we are all just winging it when you boil it down
to where we’re being honest.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The hurts from my mother’s past affected the way she
parented. That was inevitable. I think she tried hard to give us the things she
had missed out on, and she tried to experience through us, some of the
childhood that she never had a chance to enjoy in her own early years. She
loved to play games with us and gave us plenty of affection. There was a lot of
laughter in our house. At the same time, there was a needy quality to her love that
we could never quite satisfy no matter how hard we tried. I must admit that
raised it’s own set of issues over the years that we’ve had to work through. You
might say the odds were against her doing well as a Mom considering where she’d
come from. Did she do a perfect job? Certainly not. She made mistakes just as
we all do. In the end, it didn’t make any difference though. She loved us in
the best way that she knew how, and we never doubted it. We know for sure that she
gave the job her all, she held nothing back, and that’s the most any mother can
do. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">If she were here today, I’d wrap my arms around her and tell
her that I loved my childhood and wouldn't trade it for anything. I’d tell her that I know she did her absolute
best for us and I couldn’t have asked for more. I’d tell her that I think she
was an amazing and courageous woman, a good mother, and that I am thankful
every day for the life that she and my Dad made for us. I’m thankful for the
laughter we shared, for the example she set as an overcomer, and for the light
she brought into the world despite all she’d been through. I’d tell her I still
miss her today and I wouldn’t be the woman I am if it weren’t for her. I’d tell
her that she will never be forgotten, and I will always love her. Happy
Mother’s Day Mom. <o:p></o:p></p>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-19004789308598002992021-04-16T15:30:00.001-07:002021-04-17T04:47:27.144-07:00The Fellowship of Suffering<div class="separator"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9Ep0AEpuqAP20tVbwOoX3TVSm4poekhwQ0FCnDs3QI01QTFxy16xaNm8IdTMo45IWzpCpJorQ4GpJ3AlWOh1yN7mIxYlf_mC0MSpegwavS4N9S52bdCKbRoHEBgsqCEeu5Z_B4NDQtF8/s1809/20210407_134856+%25283%2529.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1809" data-original-width="1214" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9Ep0AEpuqAP20tVbwOoX3TVSm4poekhwQ0FCnDs3QI01QTFxy16xaNm8IdTMo45IWzpCpJorQ4GpJ3AlWOh1yN7mIxYlf_mC0MSpegwavS4N9S52bdCKbRoHEBgsqCEeu5Z_B4NDQtF8/w215-h320/20210407_134856+%25283%2529.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>There is a rare and special sort of camaraderie
that grows out of shared suffering. The place where I’ve experienced that deep connection
most dramatically was on an eight-day pilgrimage from Guelph to the Martyr’s
Shrine in Midland that a friend and I signed up for back in 2009. She was doing
it to honour the memory of a dear friend who had died in an accident. I was
doing it to prove to myself that I could. There were as many motivations as
there were participants. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">It was a diverse group, from teenagers all the way up to
senior citizens from varying backgrounds and walks of life. We didn’t know each
other when we set out that first morning from the Ignatius Jesuit Centre in
Guelph. My friend and I were two of a number of non-Catholics who were
participating, and I have to say we were certainly made to feel welcome right
from the start. Everyone was excited and eager to begin. I was also a bit
nervous as I had never walked the kind of distances that we would be covering
day after day. The most I’d ever managed was 20 km and we would be covering an
average of 28 km or so with some days even going so far as 32km. The first day
was one of the easier ones, being only 26 km.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGFzqKp-2nXwwPw61XbraJXfla1OE426p99iivSFHpRtnEpwvkmrxFm0He-9WThdSB4zzzhyphenhyphenH9_Qxpzc1m2z-GF9Rb6f4W-O35Mu_MmMjwpxYxHYZqBorLWknwVuFSI2iEv4yOzgkMsRX/s1879/20210407_135016+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1184" data-original-width="1879" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGFzqKp-2nXwwPw61XbraJXfla1OE426p99iivSFHpRtnEpwvkmrxFm0He-9WThdSB4zzzhyphenhyphenH9_Qxpzc1m2z-GF9Rb6f4W-O35Mu_MmMjwpxYxHYZqBorLWknwVuFSI2iEv4yOzgkMsRX/w320-h202/20210407_135016+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The plan was that our
support truck would meet us at pre-designated rest stops with water and snacks
as well as setting up to serve lunch when the time came. After the last break
they would go ahead to the place where we would be camping for the night. When
we ‘walkers’ finally arrived at that spot we would need to set up our tents
before collapsing into a lawn chair for a good foot soak in a basin of cold
water. Supper would be served by
volunteers, a different group each night, and we would help with the cleaning
up afterward. There would be a time of reflection and sharing before we crawled
into our tents to rest. The next morning we would be up at the crack of dawn to
take down our tents and pack everything up to reload the truck and start all
over again, beginning with worship and a morning mass. <o:p></o:p><p></p><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0">
<tbody><tr>
<td height="0" width="0"></td><td height="138" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1132" data-original-width="1791" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikF10TvsGiiDllBL5vuwClvn94R6Q3yfU0QwMggZ8m_tcuTlVVE23kkjzXCR2GA00u5j4Tu_XgXrP9H-2sYlQoAiAxqFF0HMBIloAcFy4tHU83FW0U4g6LsBGJRl7Yjpx__9-yPCivheHk/w320-h201/20210407_135032+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></td>
<td width="219"><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><br /></blockquote></td>
<td width="74"></td>
<td width="400"></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td height="1"></td>
<td colspan="2"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjernFcctvENVTDnBKd4O128A09WH5-TDDzJncUHgHdKBLVBybAvuwTBQncx9aIHvnGeH-h8cdWeOiW2qOVkiL5Y5PLTz7KllkhqFrkhAHaeEI5_zRPxuGCs1tFVlyWRz8s9ySsXB78L3lB/s1695/20210407_135050+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1103" data-original-width="1695" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjernFcctvENVTDnBKd4O128A09WH5-TDDzJncUHgHdKBLVBybAvuwTBQncx9aIHvnGeH-h8cdWeOiW2qOVkiL5Y5PLTz7KllkhqFrkhAHaeEI5_zRPxuGCs1tFVlyWRz8s9ySsXB78L3lB/w308-h202/20210407_135050+%25282%2529.jpg" width="308" /></a></div></td>
<td align="left" rowspan="3" valign="top"><br /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left" valign="top"><br /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td height="3"></td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>By the time we trudged into the churchyard where we would be camping on the
first night, I was sweaty, exhausted, very footsore, and triumphant. I walked the
entire distance! I managed to get my tent set up in a respectable time and joined
the others in the soaking ritual that was to become my favourite part of the
day. Cold water never felt so good. It was hot so most of us left our tent
flaps wide open to catch any breeze there might be. The volunteers were setting
up a couple of tables under a canopy to serve out supper which we would eat
sitting in our lawn chairs. While they were doing that most of us went into the
church where we would be doing the Stations of the Cross together. For my
friend and I this was a new experience and we were keen to participate despite
our fatigue.<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiavpRRuYKwNNUU3-CjrgLOexan02O5NkBGLyVL1hKVDZidmqZh_oVAcjd_m0cUTrU4xzNTGddx2e5WI63UdpB1Z4gSQ2quHsut3UVVUPgQMX4sWzjRdFMzmM4wx9wOb-Ha9mntj2S1YOz6/s1797/20210407_135006+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="1167" data-original-width="1797" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiavpRRuYKwNNUU3-CjrgLOexan02O5NkBGLyVL1hKVDZidmqZh_oVAcjd_m0cUTrU4xzNTGddx2e5WI63UdpB1Z4gSQ2quHsut3UVVUPgQMX4sWzjRdFMzmM4wx9wOb-Ha9mntj2S1YOz6/w320-h208/20210407_135006+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Unbeknownst to those of us inside the church, things were not
going so well outside. In a matter of minutes billowing storm clouds rolled in
and the skies opened to pour out a veritable Niagara of rain. Those who had
remained outside ran around frantically zipping up tent flaps and throwing lawn
chairs into the back of the truck. Supper that night turned out to be a dismal
affair with all of us crowded under two small canopies where we had to eat
standing up. It was chili so we could manage it with only a spoon and a bowl to
contend with. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">By the time I got into my tent I was thoroughly drenched.
There was a good-sized puddle just inside where the rain had got in before the
flap was closed, but my air mattress and sleeping bag were still dry. Everything
in my duffle was bagged in plastic so I had no worries there. I struggled into
dry clothes and tried to settle in for the night. My tent has an excellent fly
with coverage all the way to the ground so I was reasonably sure that apart
from the puddle on the floor, I would be safe from the storm. Rain sounds so
much louder from the inside of a tent. At first I thought I’d never get to
sleep but I soon got accustomed to the noise and began to find it soothing. The
sky was just beginning to grow light when I was startled awake by the clanging
of pots and calls to “Rise and Shine” the next morning. It was still pouring
rain.<o:p></o:p></p>We had no choice but to pack up our tents soaking wet. I shuddered to think
what it would be like to set it up again in that state. We ate our breakfast
standing up in the same way we’d eaten supper the night before, crowded and
chilled under the two canopies. It was not an auspicious start to the day, and
it didn’t look like it was going to change any time soon. We filled our water
bottles and geared up, making one last trip to the outhouses provided before
lining up to begin our soggy march. None
of us were looking forward to having to squat in the bushes in the pouring
rain.<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0y7rWAcPjqJAx74HULKwIZaMOhxeVlVGFm3upYhkZhHCdBQY5vx8PIjQcnioP4_xI3tIO-n11N2mtaV5n13e1BZfK-jJkPaHTHYKYlMF1odFejuHUmh0X5v0gv95lHmskeaODyHwuB4Y/s1831/20210407_134956+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="1160" data-original-width="1831" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0y7rWAcPjqJAx74HULKwIZaMOhxeVlVGFm3upYhkZhHCdBQY5vx8PIjQcnioP4_xI3tIO-n11N2mtaV5n13e1BZfK-jJkPaHTHYKYlMF1odFejuHUmh0X5v0gv95lHmskeaODyHwuB4Y/w320-h203/20210407_134956+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">When the line started to move I wondered if anyone else was
questioning their sanity in having signed up for this. Then one of the ladies
at the front of the line started singing. It was that old chorus “This is the
day that the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.” It wasn’t long
before other voices joined in from all up and down the line. I realized that by
singing those words I was making a choice about my attitude. I wasn’t the only
one. Our backs straightened, our steps quickened, and our voices rose louder
than the rain. It wasn’t long before we found ourselves smiling as we marched.
We were a fellowship of sufferers, and it felt good. In a mere 24 hours we had
gone from a collection of strangers to a cohesive unit all connected in some
mysterious way on a level much deeper than we would have imagined possible. That
feeling was one that continued to grow throughout the course of the remaining
seven days and it was the best part of the experience for me. I learned that
hardship knits hearts together like nothing else can, and that every new day is
a gift no matter what wrapping it comes in. That’s something to remember in
these times we are living in.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ovKHcYzM9-9P8Sqt_DCurMjsfaolJ17wyxTpJ1E0eRCp-igFhfQ3lKENc-LZUT91sQFbsRGc3YyfP7YwOq2IOt0hMNVPmZoHHat8dPsF90pe7Sno2-9Uyuj16GFUhBTp36yyaQ0OvLO8/s1640/20210407_135347+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1085" data-original-width="1640" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ovKHcYzM9-9P8Sqt_DCurMjsfaolJ17wyxTpJ1E0eRCp-igFhfQ3lKENc-LZUT91sQFbsRGc3YyfP7YwOq2IOt0hMNVPmZoHHat8dPsF90pe7Sno2-9Uyuj16GFUhBTp36yyaQ0OvLO8/w320-h213/20210407_135347+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <o:p></o:p><p></p><p>
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><br />Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-8183667863632356862021-03-20T03:00:00.001-07:002021-03-20T03:00:06.917-07:00The Question of Joy<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdlBO17AgWNDsyvXlswAQqAyq_a8HiMCFqaNx1jNidOZDpUwKz1XieedaGy0BjWiBNM-D95oPh0-yfMEIbHCHWb3dQDWcx8bjFQjV4OxFNBr5fyk8uo9l7VLqiy5-Ypedra4CEVHFvkhJJ/s2048/20210317_143030+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1572" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdlBO17AgWNDsyvXlswAQqAyq_a8HiMCFqaNx1jNidOZDpUwKz1XieedaGy0BjWiBNM-D95oPh0-yfMEIbHCHWb3dQDWcx8bjFQjV4OxFNBr5fyk8uo9l7VLqiy5-Ypedra4CEVHFvkhJJ/s320/20210317_143030+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The joy of
the Lord is my strength. (Nehemiah 8:10) But what does that even mean</span>?
The question of joy has fascinated me ever since I was a teenager. What exactly
is it and how is it different than happiness? There’s no question that there is
a difference. Happiness is that giddy feeling that makes you smile from ear to
ear and maybe dance a jig and laugh out loud when everything seems right in
your world. Is that what joy is, or is there more? The Bible says we are to
rejoice in ALL things, yet heartbreak and struggle are a normal part of every life.
Grief and sadness don’t seem compatible with smiles and laughter. I am
convinced that the joy Nehemiah was talking about is something that goes far
deeper than mere happiness. Joy must be possible even in those times when
happiness is not. What exactly would that look like?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The picture that came to my mind when I asked that question
was of two hands clasped as the world and all of life rolled by in the
background, my hand clasped firmly in the strong hand of my Heavenly Father.
The picture had a feeling of ‘rightness’ about it. I recently heard someone
define joy as it is spoken of in the Bible as “the deep satisfaction and sense
of fulfillment that comes out of relationship with God”. We were created with a
need for intimacy that finds its fullest expression in the presence of God
whose love for us is beyond anything we could imagine. Joy is rooted in relationship.
The joy of the Lord is rooted in my relationship with Him.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I have come to believe that joy is knowing that I am not
alone, and that no matter what storm I find myself engulfed in, I am utterly
secure in His love. It makes peace possible in the chaos. It is comfort in my
times of sadness. It gives me strength to take the next step when my own
strength isn’t enough. It feels like hope. There may be times when it makes me
want to sing and laugh and dance for sheer happiness, but mostly it’s a quiet
thing that lies just below the surface.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is in His presence, in my relationship with Him, that I will
find the fullness of joy. I suspect I haven’t even begun to plumb its depths.
It’s in the crucible of this crazy, unpredictable life that I begin to see the
true worth of having my hand held securely in His. I’ll hold that picture of
joy in my heart forever. It truly is all the strength I need. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-5849360378403658622020-07-15T07:46:00.002-07:002020-07-15T07:46:49.990-07:00Picking up the Pieces<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Have you ever felt
like a ghostly, transparent version of yourself</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">? How does one
pick up the pieces after a six-month absence from everything that was once a
normal part of your life? I know I am not the only one wrestling with that
question. There are no easy answers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Everyone is experiencing this pandemic is different
ways. For me, the Covid-19 lockdown was added as icing on the cake to a cancer
diagnosis back at the end of January. I don’t believe in luck or I would be
saying I was one of the lucky ones. Instead, I see it as a gift from God that
things moved very quickly, and I was able to have both my surgeries before the
hospitals started their strict protocols and the shutting down of all elective
surgeries. I still find it hard to understand how cancer surgery could be
considered elective yet many of them, if not all, ended up being postponed. I
am thankful that my case was not put on hold and I was able to go on and
receive all the treatments I needed. I’m happy to report that it was a success.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A friend who just passed her 5<sup>th</sup>
anniversary of being cancer-free had some important insights to share from her
own story. She told me that the months following the end of treatment can be
just as challenging as the treatments themselves. Often when you are in the
middle of the process, all you can do is focus on getting through the “next
thing”. It isn’t until you pass the finish line that you are able to let down
and begin to process the experience. Just when you think you ought to be able
to coast on into your old life, you realize it just isn’t that simple. Add in
the changes to daily life that we are all experiencing right now, and the
difficulty multiplies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Even being forewarned, I still somehow thought it
would be easier. I have found myself struggling to know how to move forward
from here. There doesn’t seem to be a playbook to follow. I still get tired
easily. I am more emotional (even more than usual, I mean), and I wind up
feeling overwhelmed by things that I would normally have taken in my stride.
Low-level depression on most days makes it difficult to get up and start
anything. I have not been able to get back to my writing in any meaningful way
and that bothers me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">All of this could, of course, be a bi-product of the
ongoing hormone blockers I will be taking for the next seven years or so. It
also sounds like what many are going through as a result of the physical
distancing and isolation the pandemic has necessitated. For one reason or
another, I laid down all the pieces of my life back in early February, and now
that it is time to start picking them up I am not even sure if I want to. Which
of those pieces should I let go of, and where should I focus my
still-somewhat-limited energies? How do I begin?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnfPsN-wGkYFfnXPoaZ_HGAFKfDZwX7WtdZKafUDC8UV8D0fP-fD-itN47FIYrcOpxALTFYBDvHaZ6-2u_3PK2lAsCXVrsEd71xeB2YtAZbWQrP4urOxwxTgA34XzK92g0EN9Mf-P-yvs7/s1600/20200715_103745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnfPsN-wGkYFfnXPoaZ_HGAFKfDZwX7WtdZKafUDC8UV8D0fP-fD-itN47FIYrcOpxALTFYBDvHaZ6-2u_3PK2lAsCXVrsEd71xeB2YtAZbWQrP4urOxwxTgA34XzK92g0EN9Mf-P-yvs7/s200/20200715_103745.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Firstly, I am told I need to cut myself some slack in
all this. Unrealistic expectations only lead to frustration and guilt. I’ve
asked God to help me discern what it is that I CAN do rather than what I only
WISH I could do. There are some pieces of my life that will continue to be set
aside, at least for now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Secondly, I need to recognize that where I’m at today
is not my “new normal” for the foreseeable future despite what the literature
says about side effects of hormone blockers. There are things I can do to
improve my energy levels and my mood. Once again, I am reminded that I have the
power to choose when it comes to exercise and diet. When I’ve had a bad day and
failed miserably, instead of giving up I can start again. If I do my part, I
know I can trust God for the rest. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I walk for exercise. To date, I have managed to
increase my distance to 2.5 km. That may not seem like much, but I remind
myself that I am carrying a little extra weight these days, a 40-pound pack to
be exact. It makes a difference. I managed to lose 4 of those pounds which also
may not seem like much, but I’ve decided to celebrate these baby steps. At
least they are movement in the right direction. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As to my writing, it’s never been so difficult.
Yesterday, I went to a park to sit under a tree and do some cursive free-flow,
jotting down random thoughts as they popped into my head. It is said that those
sorts of exercises help unlock the creative side of your brain. Today’s post is
the result. It’s a small beginning and even the smallest beginnings deserve to
be celebrated. It leaves me feeling hopeful and that’s a good place to start.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-71450457136938438452020-02-19T08:49:00.000-08:002020-02-19T08:49:41.477-08:00When Life Hands You an Unexpected Detour<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzpwc1Ycaw9QVkUsFBCy4Ve14IWSlBvng1w-61BpU0jUJSUnNnBPxTbO6zl8hZHmZQ_a6oP9CdTtGrTMAoKNQyycB9vFRwVfZM-7X95Ko31vpU98YGeAg8Obg5912NKtnyM8lIfBMds8X/s1600/Detour+Signs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzpwc1Ycaw9QVkUsFBCy4Ve14IWSlBvng1w-61BpU0jUJSUnNnBPxTbO6zl8hZHmZQ_a6oP9CdTtGrTMAoKNQyycB9vFRwVfZM-7X95Ko31vpU98YGeAg8Obg5912NKtnyM8lIfBMds8X/s200/Detour+Signs.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My husband
Bev and I love doing road trips. We pick a destination, plot our route, and hit
the highway to see what we can see. Of course, we do like to have a fair idea
of where we are at any time and which direction we are heading. That’s why we
never go anywhere without a good map. I never realized how important good road
signs are to the whole process until we travelled in Ireland a few years ago.</span><span lang="EN-US"> </span>Perhaps in a small country, the assumption is that everyone
knows where they’re going so road signs aren’t necessary. Whatever the case,
there were many places where we saw no signs at all. It’s hard to figure out
where to go when you have no idea where you are. It rendered the maps all but
useless and forced us to stop and ask for help any number of times – not such a
bad thing as we met some great people that way. However, I discovered that I
don’t much like not knowing where I’m going.<br />
<br />
Here in Canada we rarely feel so lost, except perhaps when
we run into an unexpected detour. At times like that, what we think will be a
straightforward trip from point A to point B can end up taking us in a
completely different direction. That might not matter so much if we are just
meandering, but when we have a specific goal in mind, especially one involving
a timeline, hitting a roadblock can be stressful. It’s like we are at it’s
mercy and forced to head into uncharted territory right when we thought we had it
all figured out and knew exactly what to expect. That’s when we have a choice
to make. We can get all bent out of shape, or we can stop worrying about the
destination and the plan and decide to enjoy the journey.<br />
<br />
This year we were heading into the year 2020 with high hopes
and a sense of optimism. We had some very definite plans in mind and were
already marking things on our calendar in anticipation. We thought we knew
exactly where the road ahead would be taking us. That’s when we hit one of
life’s unexpected detours. At the end of January I was diagnosed with breast
cancer and we now find that we are heading into uncharted territory. It’s a
completely different direction than we were planning on, so we find ourselves
with a choice to make. We can get all bent out of shape, or we can decide to
embrace the journey and see what we can see along the way.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-21460678460459097982020-01-16T14:26:00.000-08:002020-01-16T14:26:39.156-08:00Living on Purpose
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A friend
once asked me how I was doing, and I answered by telling him I’d decided to
live. His brows shot up and I hurried to clarify. What I meant was, I’d decided
to really embrace life, to live on purpose, to grab hold of it with both hands
and make the most of it. To be honest, some days I do better at that than
others. I find it helps if I have something to reach for, something to look
forward to.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">For the
last 35 years or so, my husband and I have made a point of setting goals in
January for the coming year. We started the practice because of the
post-holiday blues that can sometimes set in when all the hustle and bustle of
Christmas is past. When so much energy goes into preparing for the holidays,
the quiet days that follow can leave us (me) drifting aimlessly or crashing
altogether. We wanted something that would energize us, give us a target to aim
at, and create a little excitement and momentum in the drab winter months. We
figured a date night that included a dinner out followed by a bit of brainstorming
would net us a few plans for going forward into the new year. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">That first
year, we sat down and made a list of categories. It included things like
financial goals, personal development, home improvements, ministry goals,
vacation, and a few others like hobbies, that could conceivably fall into one
of the categories already mentioned. It might sound dry, but it actually
wasn’t. It got us talking and dreaming a bit as we jotted down our ideas. Once
the list was made it got tucked away in a folder and we didn’t look at it again
until the following year. We didn’t really need to. Most of the things we wrote
down got fixed in our thinking just by talking them through. We were keen to
get started and January came to feel like a fresh beginning.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Of course,
we recognized right away that we would need to hold those plans loosely. After
all, God is the one who is steering the boat. Proverbs 16:9 says that the heart
of a man plans his way, but God directs his steps. Stuff happens and being
flexible is a good thing. There was nothing hard and fast about those goals.
There was no pressure and no guilt involved. Some years we were able to check
off nearly everything on the list. Then again, there were some years when life
took an unexpected turn, and a whole new set of goals got made on the fly. We
still considered it a win even when we didn’t actually achieve much of anything
that we’d originally planned on. Each new year, we’d pull that folder out and
take a look at the road behind us before we started dreaming for the year
ahead. It’s become an annual thing. The folder is getting full now and all
those sheets of paper make an interesting record of the things we’ve done or
thought to do from one year to the next.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This year,
we’ve put off our planning date and may not get to it till the month is almost
over. It seems like life may be taking one of those unexpected turns before we
even get the year started. One or two unanswered questions could make a big
difference in how the year unfolds so it’s probably worth while to wait a bit
before we sit down to talk about goals. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Whatever 2020
might bring, we want to tackle it full on rather than as passive bystanders. You
can’t steer a boat that isn’t moving. The specific goals we set aren’t really
so important. What is important is that we live on purpose. No one knows for
certain what a given year will hold but we know we’ll be able to handle the
twists and turns that come our way because we trust the One who is at the
rudder. It pays to remember that He loves us, and we belong to Him.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-28214090875551539072019-12-11T10:35:00.000-08:002019-12-11T11:15:14.133-08:00Peeling Back the Layers<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I was riding
in a friend</span>’s car<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> once
and noticed a little square of black electrical tape stuck on the face of the
dashboard. Curious, I asked what it was there for.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheNl3FSWLymH5o9-UgS0t3fDweeplOARCrq5wuFI0PSr5xI8Rw_tdCG3Kgv6CbMQGYYw-9F1fBWVREJEywS58UCYoRq1wLyUAywi0VWq1bCmtIk0g1kMr4gR-HzLB0w30wS3RW946rjf-Z/s1600/Check+Engine+Light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheNl3FSWLymH5o9-UgS0t3fDweeplOARCrq5wuFI0PSr5xI8Rw_tdCG3Kgv6CbMQGYYw-9F1fBWVREJEywS58UCYoRq1wLyUAywi0VWq1bCmtIk0g1kMr4gR-HzLB0w30wS3RW946rjf-Z/s320/Check+Engine+Light.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Oh, it’s nothing,
just that annoying little check engine light. I can’t get it to turn off, so I
covered it up. The car is running okay anyway.”</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Foolish?
Perhaps. Those ‘trouble’ lights are there for a reason and when we ignore them,
a small problem can sometimes turn into a much bigger issue.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Lately, I’m
realizing that I have ‘trouble’ lights of my own that I don’t always pay
attention to, and I’m not talking about my car. There are any number of small
indicators in how I respond to the issues of life that hint at some underlying
problem. It’s often easier to ignore the signs than to dig a little deeper to
see what lies beneath.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">For
instance, when I get annoyed or impatient at how slowly something that is outside
of my control is happening, I often treat the symptoms with several deep
breaths and a treat or a distraction of some kind. My coping mechanisms are
like putting a band-aid on my check engine light. Getting to the bottom of
things takes time and hard work. It can be painful to discover that my
annoyance might be due to my own issues.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When I’ve taken
the time to examine the ‘why’ behind my emotions, I’ve occasionally been forced
to recognize a need to be in control just below the surface. If I peel back
that layer, I discover fear tucked away underneath it. Fear that the result I
am hoping for will not happen if I don’t make it happen, fear of failure. Where
does that come from? One layer deeper, and I realize that I’m actually afraid
of being judged or measured by my performance. And hidden beneath that is the
lie that my worth is based on how people see me. I’m not even going to touch on
how pride figures into all of that.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Once I’ve peeled
back enough layers to discover the lie that is so often at the root of my lack
of peace, I can do something about it. Repentance is a good place to start.
Follow that with the choice to actively trust in God and what He says is true. He
says that my worth is incalculable, and it doesn</span>’t change. I am precious
in His eyes. It is<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> <span lang="EN-US">not
dependent on my performance or what people think of me. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Now, when I
find myself shaking a fist at a driver who insists on moving 20 km/hour below
the speed limit, I automatically catch myself. I don’t have to start from
scratch this time. I remember what was under the surface when I peeled back the
layers the last time and give myself a little shake. The annoyance drains away
as I am reminded of who I am and who God is, and that He is in control. It’s
quicker and more effective than chocolate… and easier on my waistline. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-14635379823731627562016-02-20T16:13:00.000-08:002016-02-20T16:13:40.212-08:00Memories
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We just got back from a visit in Northern Ontario where we
had a much enjoyed taste of winter with my brother Dave in Elliot Lake. We got
to go snowshoeing through the woods and across the lake to have a winter picnic
complete with campfire and toasted sandwiches with a cup of bush tea to warm us
as we sat on a log in the sunshine. We did get to see a wolf but not while we
were on our hike. He passed by Dave’s building where it backs on the bush at
the edge of town while we watched through the living room window. We were snowshoeing
on that same trail but saw no sign of him other than his prints in the snow. There
is something wonderfully peaceful about the silence of the snowy wilderness on
a cold, still morning. Even the swamps are beautiful in their carpet of white. It’s
one of the things I miss, living in the south. It brings back a whole landscape
of happy memories.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I thought about that on the long drive home. Memories are
such a gift, treasures to be brought out and enjoyed over and over again. Sometimes
I like to capture my favorites on paper so they can be shared.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
When we passed the sign for Black Creek just north of the
turn-off for Highway 17 I was reminded of another one. It’s a 50 year old
memory now and back in 1993 I wrote it down. I thought I’d share it here.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
“The Cabin on Turtle Lake”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Dad built the cabin in a lonely spot close to the eastern
shore of Turtle Lake. To reach it we travel up Black Creek by canoe, crossing
eight beaver dams in the process. The trip takes hours and we mark the distance
by the number of times we clamber out of the canoe to negotiate those barriers
of interwoven sticks and mud. When the count reaches eight we begin to watch
for the trees to thin out and allow us our first glimpse of the lake.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Turtle Lake is long and narrow, with a rocky shoreline that
in places rises up like the walls of some ancient fortress. At its eastern end,
where the cabin sits in a clearing on the banks of the creek, the land slopes
down more gently and the birch and poplar trees give way to tall grass and
bulrushes. The swish of our paddles sounds loud in the stillness as we push
through the reeds to land. The trail from the shore to the clearing in the
trees is carpeted with autumn golds and the clean smell of wet leaves and
distant pines is like a tonic.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The clearing is dominated by the squat shape of the cabin.
Its rough walls of pine logs rise only five feet from the ground. They are
topped by a peaked log roof covered with black paper that smells of tar when
the sun warms it. A length of old blackened stove pipe sticks up from one
corner at a jaunty angle. The low door is made of smooth unfinished boards that
have weathered to a dull grey. It has hinges made of old tire rubber and sports
the only window in the place. That tiny square of smudged glass and the rusty
latch look almost out of place here. A squirrel chatters a welcome from the
woodpile stacked neatly along one side of the building. Two makeshift sawhorses
of crossed poles stand ready with an uncut log resting securely in the notch
formed by their upthrust arms. The ground below is littered with sawdust and
wood chips.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The dim interior of the cabin smells musty after the fresh
air outside. The odours of pine gum, old wood smoke and lamp oil envelope us as
we step over the threshold onto the hard packed dirt floor. There is only one
room. In the corner stands the stove, made of an old oil drum propped up on
bricks. Two sets of bunk beds line the side walls. Actually, they are just
frames made of rough cut poles and strung with chicken wire and padded with a
thick layer of canvas, but they look inviting after a long day. The only other
furniture is a small sturdy table sitting opposite the stove with a box of
kindling under it. There is a shelf on the wall above it that holds the oil
lamp and an old, faded tin snuff box that we keep matches in. A chipped and
battered enamel cup also sits there. It holds the wilted remnants of a handful
of wild flowers that once provided a spot of colour to the otherwise drab room.
The cup fits my hand like an old friend as I lift it from the dusty shelf and
carry it out into the late afternoon sun. Leaves is what we want this time, I
think to myself. Orange and yellow and gold.</div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-70792163326733897672016-02-17T13:07:00.000-08:002016-02-17T13:07:02.535-08:00Much More Than Goodbye
I originally wrote this post for Family and Faith Matters in 2014.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
This morning when my husband set off for work I saw him off
at the door with a hug and a kiss and a “Have a good day”. I’ve been doing that
for almost 34 years and I suppose it’s a habit now. It’s much more than a habit
when I stop to think about it though. It’s a wish and a prayer and a blessing
all in one and it carries the love and respect I have for this man who is my
partner and soul mate right out the door with him when he goes into his day. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The concept of sending people off with a blessing is not a
new one. The word goodbye actually originated with the phrase God be with ye. </div>
<v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f"><v:stroke joinstyle="miter"><v:formulas><v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"><v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"><v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"><v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"><v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"><v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"><v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"><v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"><v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"><v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"><v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"><v:path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect" o:extrusionok="f"><v:shape alt="IMGP0058.JPG" id="Picture_x0020_0" o:spid="_x0000_s1027" style="height: 116.4pt; margin-left: 279.15pt; margin-top: 176.15pt; mso-position-horizontal-relative: margin; mso-position-horizontal: absolute; mso-position-vertical-relative: margin; mso-position-vertical: absolute; mso-wrap-distance-bottom: 0; mso-wrap-distance-left: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-right: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-top: 0; mso-wrap-style: square; position: absolute; visibility: visible; width: 156.25pt; z-index: 1;" type="#_x0000_t75">
<v:imagedata o:title="IMGP0058" src="file:///C:\Users\Robin\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg">
<w:wrap anchorx="margin" anchory="margin" type="square">
</w:wrap></v:imagedata></v:shape></v:path></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:formulas></v:stroke></v:shapetype><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I was watching the movie “Gladiator” recently and in it the
Roman soldiers parted with a hand grip and the words “Strength and Honour”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a great way to send someone off! Honour
is a word we don’t use much these days but it is another way of saying
integrity or uprightness of character. I can almost feel myself standing a
little taller and stepping out with a little more vigour when I hear that
parting wish.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Most of us are familiar with the old Irish blessing.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
May the road rise up to meet you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
May the wind be always at your back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
May the sun shine warm upon your face,</div>
And the rains fall soft upon your fields.<br />
And until we meet again,<br />
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I suppose I might try saying that to my husband as he leaves
for work in the morning but it is a bit cumbersome. I’m more likely to stick
with my simple “Have a good day”. It has a power and beauty of its own when
accompanied by that hug and kiss. Or maybe I’ll mix it up a bit and add an
occasional “Strength and Honour”, or even the Vulcan “Live Long and Prosper”. I
can just see the raised eyebrows now. At least he’d be going out the door with
a smile on his face. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The next time you say goodbye make it more than just
goodbye. It’s the chance to send someone off with a wish and a prayer and a
blessing all in one.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<v:shape alt="IMGP0059.JPG" id="Picture_x0020_2" o:spid="_x0000_s1026" style="height: 111.8pt; margin-left: 130.5pt; margin-top: 565.25pt; mso-position-horizontal-relative: margin; mso-position-horizontal: absolute; mso-position-vertical-relative: margin; mso-position-vertical: absolute; mso-wrap-distance-bottom: 0; mso-wrap-distance-left: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-right: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-top: 0; mso-wrap-style: square; position: absolute; visibility: visible; width: 148.6pt; z-index: 2;" type="#_x0000_t75">
<v:imagedata o:title="IMGP0059" src="file:///C:\Users\Robin\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image002.jpg">
<w:wrap anchorx="margin" anchory="margin" type="square">
</w:wrap></v:imagedata></v:shape></div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-71500752408333559212016-02-16T13:01:00.000-08:002016-02-16T13:01:09.168-08:00Seasons
I originally wrote this post in the fall of 2014 for Family and Faith Matters.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0jAd0FsWj1rg3VJY66q38BnXsQWA9qbeBf5kinpqTGj1gpENgwkJpQv7gzSCd-a_Tldda9eTOB91RVaCgpiEbNs0mcNmPRYjZEDW0ODhCDg3yjVDC74yMwSAZSNsSHb0JJif1e5l8mR_R/s1600/Tomatoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0jAd0FsWj1rg3VJY66q38BnXsQWA9qbeBf5kinpqTGj1gpENgwkJpQv7gzSCd-a_Tldda9eTOB91RVaCgpiEbNs0mcNmPRYjZEDW0ODhCDg3yjVDC74yMwSAZSNsSHb0JJif1e5l8mR_R/s200/Tomatoes.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Photo courtesy of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suat Eman @ FreeDigitalPhotos.net<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
The last of the
raspberries are picked and safely stored in the freezer for our supply of
winter smoothies. I’ve gathered all the apples and their fruity scent makes my mouth
water whenever I go into the front porch where they are waiting for my
attention. Over the next few days I will turn those baskets of apples into jar
after jar of applesauce to sweeten our mealtimes during the cold season. Today
though, the kitchen counter is covered in tomatoes and peppers that came from
my husband’s flower bed vegetable garden. It’s time to make chili sauce.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
I love living in a
country that has seasons to mark the passing of time. Each season has a unique beauty
to enjoy but there’s more to it than that. There’s a rhythm to our days when we
live in a place that has seasons. At least that’s true when we are part of an
agricultural community. We spend the summers growing and gathering and storing
food for the winter. We spend the winters renewing our strength and planning
and preparing for the next growing season.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
Life has seasons too.
Ecclesiastes 3 says, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every
activity under the heavens…” No matter what particular season I am in at the moment,
whether it is a time of mourning or a time of dancing, I know that it is only
for a time. I believe that God uses each season in my life to prepare me for
the ones to come. I can embrace whatever season I am in and know that there is
a purpose to it that goes beyond whatever my current reality is. That gives me satisfaction
and confidence and hope. My life is in the hands of a Master Gardener and
nothing ever gets wasted in His economy.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
What should I do with the
time that I’m in? That’s the million dollar question. How can I make the best
of this particular season while it lasts? Thankfulness is always a good place
to start. Then, I think I’ll start on that chili sauce.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>Chili Sauce <o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
12 large tomatoes</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
4 large onions</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
½ bunch celery</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
1 ½ green peppers</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
Chop all finely</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
Add: 2 ½ c. vinegar</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>3 c. sugar</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>2 T. salt</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>1 T. pickling spice in cloth bag</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
Cook 3 hours on low boil
or until thickened. Seal in jars.</div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-11304322602592707722016-02-15T12:52:00.000-08:002016-02-15T12:52:04.360-08:00Don't Lose Your Balance
I originally wrote this post for Family and Faith Matters in 2014.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNJM7BZVQcsjsBPfBVScdHnkDdRXQZF93U-tRcOZR3x-ZCCDuT5RuZkiQjvwUTYw12vRD3PPpG-Wbc-qwTY7K8tZ9j3sfdKSjLAwRjc4Gs1hFbwLncj8Cshcmwm2wm36fahYOkHn6yZ3l/s1600/Balance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNJM7BZVQcsjsBPfBVScdHnkDdRXQZF93U-tRcOZR3x-ZCCDuT5RuZkiQjvwUTYw12vRD3PPpG-Wbc-qwTY7K8tZ9j3sfdKSjLAwRjc4Gs1hFbwLncj8Cshcmwm2wm36fahYOkHn6yZ3l/s200/Balance.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>
How are you at keeping your balance? I don’t mind admitting
that mine isn’t as reliable as it once was. There are no gravity defying stunts
in my repertoire. In fact, I like to keep both feet firmly planted on the
ground whenever possible.<br />
<br />
It was actually a little difficult going for walks this past
winter with the sidewalks often icy and deep snow making the footing
treacherous. I tend to be quite cautious because of a fall I had a few years
ago that left me with a dislocated elbow and a broken finger. I still remember
the flash of panic I felt in the split second when I realized I was going down.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
It wasn’t long after that when I decided to take an exercise
class that was designed to improve core strength and balance. When I started
out it was a little dangerous to stand anywhere near me. I had serious wobble
issues and would often fling an arm out in a desperate attempt to stay upright
in some of the positions we were asked to assume. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I did improve as time went on. It helped a tremendous amount
when my instructor told me to keep my eyes focused on one spot on the floor
about six feet in front of me. I learned to pay attention to where I put my
feet and not to lean too far in any one direction. Those were important lessons
in more ways than one.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I am a mother of three married children and I have seven
grandchildren with one more on the way. Add aging parents and friends who need
support to the mix and it’s easy for me to get so outward focused that I forget
about my own needs in the process. I lose my balance and once that happens, the
desperate fling of an arm is not enough to keep me from going down. When I
crash the consequences can be both painful and far reaching.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
A dear friend reminded me recently that self care is not the
same as selfishness. I need to keep my balance in this busy life of mine. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
That means choosing carefully where I put my feet. It’s okay
to say no. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
It means not leaning too far in any one direction. I need
activities that will feed my soul and bring me back to centre. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Above all, it means keeping my eyes focused on the one thing
that doesn’t change – God and His love for me.</div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-38735028736309328372016-02-14T12:47:00.000-08:002016-02-14T12:47:01.130-08:00Seize the Day
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I originally wrote this post for Family and Faith Matters in 2014.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I have a confession to make. I am a natural born
procrastinator, unlike my good husband. He likes to know that when the sun goes
down at the end of each day, his efforts have made a difference and he can
check things off of the ongoing list that he carries in his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day I found a list written on the white
board on the side of our fridge. I was glancing through it when one item caught
my eye. There, in bold red capitals, were the words, KISS YOUR WIFE. The rest
of the items got erased one by one but that one stayed for as long as there was
a list. It made me smile. Those three words would jump out at me whenever I
went into the kitchen. They let me know that I was more important than anything
else that needed doing.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I’ve learned to set goals and to reach them eventually. I
may not like endless lists of jobs to be done and I suppose I will always have
a tendency to put things off until tomorrow, but people are too important to be
allowed to slip through the cracks.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We live in a world of todays and none of us knows how many
of those we may have. We’ve lost a number of friends in recent years, some of
them suddenly and without warning through accidents or heart attacks or
devastating illness. As we grieve each loss, we are achingly reminded that none
of us really knows what today will bring. We have our goals and our plans, our
dreams for the future, and yet, today may be the only day we have. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I can’t really afford to be a procrastinator when it comes
to the people in my life. There are some things that shouldn’t be postponed.
Things like forgiveness, simple appreciation, random acts of kindness, and
words like “I’m sorry”, “I love you” or “I am so very proud of you”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to let opportunities for the
really important things slip by me because I am telling myself that there’s
always tomorrow. That just may not be true.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We’ve all heard the term Carpe Diem or Seize the Day. It
doesn’t sound like something a natural born procrastinator would live by but I
think it’s a good motto. Perhaps it’s time to take some of my good intentions
and put feet on them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are there words
that need saying or people I should see? I need to make this day count because
it may be all that I have.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-70364313382362312812016-02-13T12:39:00.000-08:002016-02-13T12:39:01.273-08:00The Quest for Humility
I originally wrote this post for Family and Faith Matters in 2014.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I had to laugh the day my brother spoke up in mock serious
tones to give his opinion on the subject of humility. “What’s the point of
being humble if you can’t boast about it?” he quipped. In our culture of
independence and individualism and looking out for number one, there doesn’t
seem to be much room for humility. Yet if God opposes the proud but gives grace
to the humble as it says in James 4:6, then genuine humility is a character
quality that I definitely want to grow into. It’s a journey that I expect will
last a lifetime. Genuine humility builds bridges and connects people. That’s
something the world needs.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The fruit of a humble heart is pretty attractive when I
think about it. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Recognizing my weaknesses so that I can grow and
change</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Having a teachable spirit</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Accepting and appreciating others without
judgement</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Forgiveness freely offered and freely sought</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->The ability to offer unconditional love</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Obedience and trust</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->The kind of inner security that doesn’t need or
seek after attention or recognition</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Placing others ahead of myself and having a
desire to serve rather than be served</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Gentleness and kindness and the ability to
really listen to people</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
True humility is not born out of a sense of inferiority or
weakness. It comes out of knowing yourself to be loved absolutely, just as you
are. That is a place of strength and total security when you know that the One
who loves you is God Himself.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Perhaps that’s what I need to come back to when I sometimes catch
myself talking too much and looking for attention, or feeling resentful of
critical feedback, or passing judgement on my neighbours. God is quick to
forgive and give us a fresh start whenever we acknowledge that we’ve fallen
short. I love that about Him. My fresh starts always begin by asking God for a
deeper revelation of His love for me. There’s no better place to begin if I
want to practice humility.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Philippians 2:1-4
Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any
comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness
and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same
love, being one in spirit and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition
or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking
to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. (NIV)<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 0cm;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 0cm;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 0cm;">
</div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-54686056129836682352016-02-12T12:31:00.000-08:002016-02-12T12:31:31.253-08:00What Do You Do With a Broken Heart?
I originally wrote this post for Family and Faith Matters in 2014 and I am now reposting it here.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Relationships can be painful. If you have people in your
life the potential is always there for misunderstanding, rejection and even
betrayal. The more you care, the greater the pain when something goes wrong. When
that happens, the temptation to let your heart get hard in order to stop the
hurt can be a strong one. You might decide to run away, or wear anger like a
suit of armour to keep yourself safe, but life inside that particular armour
isn’t any picnic, and we were never designed to live in isolation. We were
created to love and be loved with all the risks that entails. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
How do you keep your heart soft when your emotions are in
tatters and the pain seems unbearable? I can tell you this. When I found myself
in that place I did the only thing I could do. I cried out to God about it….</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Lord, I don’t think I can do this. It hurts too much.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I know.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
It feels as though my heart has been torn right out of my
chest and thrown on the ground and stomped on.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I know that as well.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Paralysed, I stand staring at the sorry mess that was and is
my heart. It lies in the dirt, all bruised and squashed and bleeding and I feel
helpless.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I don’t know what to do, Lord.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The answer comes in that still, soft voice that I’ve come to
recognize and love in the course of a lifetime.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You can stand there,
paralysed, staring at the sorry mess that was and is your heart, or you can
pick it up and give it to me. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
In the silence I can feel His gentle urging. The whisper in
my mind comes again, softer yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pick it up and give it
to me.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I reach down slowly into the dirt and gather up what is left
of my heart and hold it out to Him. As I do so, I find that my eyes are no
longer focused on my pain. They are focused on Him and in that moment something
changes. I am reminded of just how much He loves me. I can’t explain it, but I
find the pain easing and strength returning, and I can move and live again. His
love can soften a heart of stone and it comforts me and heals me.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I have decided. I will keep my heart soft and risk the pain
that comes along with the joy in relationships even if it means that I might
find myself in this place again, with a heart broken and bleeding in the dirt.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I know what to do now. I will pick it up and give it to Him.
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Psalm 147:3 “He heals the broken hearted and binds up their
wounds”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Ezekiel 36:26 “I will give you a new heart and put a new
spirit in you; I will remove your heart of stone and give you a heart of
flesh.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-49588564648655987012016-02-11T06:55:00.000-08:002016-02-12T12:32:38.803-08:00Story Time<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I originally wrote this post for Family and Faith Matters in 2014.<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PrytCUbV9G1LpXBrkiCvDQDWlAQA_iAyKQbDdd0Lc4LgN4G00R5tsLLwQzYci09G5910ERNGlUuKmEEBsis5bieqNrECIj3VyPFsOK2dFQuQ7QE6GurubIn2xMMJPk9rWVjWRE7QrefU/s1600/StoryTime.jpg.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PrytCUbV9G1LpXBrkiCvDQDWlAQA_iAyKQbDdd0Lc4LgN4G00R5tsLLwQzYci09G5910ERNGlUuKmEEBsis5bieqNrECIj3VyPFsOK2dFQuQ7QE6GurubIn2xMMJPk9rWVjWRE7QrefU/s200/StoryTime.jpg.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I grew up before cable TV. No Netflix, no Google, no i-tunes,
no social media. It was a simpler time. We played more. We read books and
sometimes, we read them together. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600"
o:spt="75" o:preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f"
stroked="f">
<v:stroke joinstyle="miter"/>
<v:formulas>
<v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"/>
</v:formulas>
<v:path o:extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect"/>
<o:lock v:ext="edit" aspectratio="t"/>
</v:shapetype><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_0" o:spid="_x0000_s1026" type="#_x0000_t75"
alt="StoryTime.jpg.JPG" style='position:absolute;margin-left:1.5pt;
margin-top:0;width:161.5pt;height:121.5pt;z-index:1;visibility:visible;
mso-wrap-style:square;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;
mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;
mso-position-horizontal:absolute;mso-position-horizontal-relative:text;
mso-position-vertical:absolute;mso-position-vertical-relative:text'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\Robin\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg"
o:title="StoryTime.jpg"/>
<w:wrap type="square"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->“Story
Time”…I feel a little thrill of pleasure when I think of those two simple
words. They conjure up all sorts of happy memories for me and even now, sharing
stories is one of my favourite things to do. You’re never too old for Story
Time in my opinion.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve always loved to
read. I can lose myself in the pages of a good book, transported to faraway
times and places with characters that come to life in my imagination. A story
becomes an adventure, an experience to be treasured. How much better it is when
those adventures are shared. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I can remember spending long lazy afternoons with my
brother, the two of us curled up at opposite ends of the bed in the attic
bedroom, taking turns reading aloud from a tattered and much loved copy of J.
R. R. Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings. Later we laughed ourselves silly trying to
read Bored of the Rings, Henry Beard and Douglas Kenney’s parody of the
trilogy. We could scarcely get through a page without dissolving into giggles. We
were teenagers at the time. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was
something special about sharing those experiences. We were forging a connection
that would last a lifetime.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
That was one of the reasons I so looked forward to Story
Time with my own three children. It may have started with picture books and
bedtime stories but it didn’t stop there. We carried on with the tradition
whenever we had opportunity. We could get through whole novels on some of our
camping trips, especially if the weather was bad. They were happy times. In
fact, I was still reading aloud and sharing books with one of my boys right up
until he left home for university. He loved to listen. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
They all have their own families now and I like to picture
them reading aloud to their children. As for me, I keep a collection of
favourite books on hand. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am looking
forward to reading to all those grandchildren as they get older. There are some
things worth hanging on to from the days when life was simpler. Story Time is
one of them.</div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-11576588742563893482015-06-03T17:15:00.000-07:002015-06-03T17:15:37.870-07:00Lessons From the Labyrinth
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5RL2s0baIITvpo0JmwP7_WnPDCJ5KtFHiHNbU04voaE_4IAOGfYt2-fbg2sKimCBNZMM_X-_KbiA24qYcW2YgGxrXF-UEQ3YXYT0JOvZJYx4nbEXwVYXTywfoyJAV_UG9OT1G7SvHsC-Y/s1600/MountAlverno9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5RL2s0baIITvpo0JmwP7_WnPDCJ5KtFHiHNbU04voaE_4IAOGfYt2-fbg2sKimCBNZMM_X-_KbiA24qYcW2YgGxrXF-UEQ3YXYT0JOvZJYx4nbEXwVYXTywfoyJAV_UG9OT1G7SvHsC-Y/s200/MountAlverno9.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0cm;">
I was
walking the labyrinth at our Women’s Retreat at Mount Alverno early on Sunday
morning. Unlike a maze, a labyrinth has no blind alleys or multiple choices in direction. You can go forward or back but you can't get lost. The path simply winds in and out and around the circle a number of times
before it finally reaches the cross at the centre. It is supposed to represent
the spiritual journey we are all on in the course of our lives. I was praying
for our adult children as I walked and a number of insights came to me as I
followed the convoluted path in front of me. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Every person’s journey is different and if I
am looking on from the outside I cannot see the entirety of the path. It would
take looking down from above to be able to see how the twists and turns
ultimately lead to the centre. Watching someone else walk it from the outside,
I would just have to trust that the designer of the labyrinth knew what He was
doing. There are no shortcuts and there are no wasted steps. He has a purpose
in every one of those twists and turns. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->There are times when the person on the path is
actually walking away from the centre so that from the outside it appears they
are going the wrong way. My instinct would be to try to get them to turn around
but that would be wrong. There was even one spot on the path where the centre
was entirely hidden from sight by the intervening bushes and shrubs. It would
be a mistake for me to try to direct someone else’s steps when I can’t see the
big picture. I had to admit that I would need to let go and let them walk on
their own. I would need to stop trying to direct their steps. That’s God’s job.
The only good advice would be to keep putting one foot in front of the other no
matter what it looks like. There are bad patches. You never know what you might
encounter but the path takes you through those and eventually gets you to your
destination.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0cm;">
What is
my part? I can cheer them on from the sidelines and maybe offer refreshment
along the way but the biggest thing I can do for them is pray. How do I pray
for my children who are walking their own journey? Intercession…spiritual
warfare… I found myself praying that they would keep moving forward, always
forward, and that God would protect their lives so that they would have the chance to
go the entire distance. I prayed against the lies and schemes of the enemy that
would seek to confuse and deceive. I prayed that chains would be broken so that
they would be free and able to keep walking. Depression can stop a person in
their tracks. I prayed that they would be able to recognize those things that
entangle their feet and hold them back. </div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0cm;">
How do I know they are even on the
path? We started them on that path when they were children and we gave them
back to God. He hasn’t forgotten. That gives me confidence. Beyond
that, I just have to trust and that’s part of my own journey.</div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-89077393442176576452014-08-25T14:30:00.000-07:002014-08-25T14:30:19.768-07:00Just Give It a Try
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOphxfKzq5jDtHiqrownPiLRv7bTmDuKHM07Sc9AjWqTrCEDpfqyjuGBpLsGiPauDa5vplDxnJUkDHY26OvpcycsBCcmBYASHK2ld5-5ZUenM1KYWtxLnYT5J3iWzdNYfEqRIqml0VeVVy/s1600/Play.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOphxfKzq5jDtHiqrownPiLRv7bTmDuKHM07Sc9AjWqTrCEDpfqyjuGBpLsGiPauDa5vplDxnJUkDHY26OvpcycsBCcmBYASHK2ld5-5ZUenM1KYWtxLnYT5J3iWzdNYfEqRIqml0VeVVy/s1600/Play.jpg" height="176" width="200" /></a></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
Hold on and lean forward,
feet tucked below the seat as you sail back and up. There’s a split second
pause at the top of your arc. That’s when you lean back and stretch out your
legs, face tilted to the sky for that stomach lurching swoop with the wind
ruffling your hair and your mouth open wide in an involuntary grin. Just for
that moment it feels like flying. I’d forgotten how much fun a swing could be. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
I was on a visit to my
son Jason’s family in Ottawa. We’d taken my granddaughter Evaine to the park
and no one else was around. Jason was pushing her on the kiddie swing so I
decided to sit on the big swing to wait. She’d likely want to move on to
something else in a moment or two. Muscle memory is a marvelous thing. Without
any conscious thought at all I found myself automatically pushing off, legs
working back and forth in the pumping action I’d learned as a child. Higher and
higher until I imagined my outstretched toes would touch the clouds. I haven’t
done that in years and now I wonder why. It was great!</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
When we got back to the
house Jason brought in a couple of gigantic mats that he’d salvaged from the
climbing gym. He set them up in the basement for me to use as a bed. They were
about eight inches thick and the two of them together made a bed about eight
feet square. My husband was due to arrive in a couple of days so he wanted us
to have plenty of room. The whole family could have slept on that makeshift bed
but in the meantime it made a great spot for jumping and Evaine was bouncing up
and down and flopping onto her back with gleeful abandon. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
Eventually she tired of
the game and I was left alone to set up my sleeping space. I stood there for a
moment looking at that enormous spongy expanse before sitting on it and giving
it an experimental bounce or two of my own. I had an outrageous impulse and
shook my head as though to dislodge it. It was too ridiculous. I think my
earlier experience with the swing must have dislodged my common sense. I told
myself I should act my age. On the other hand, no one was there to see me. Why
not just give it a try? What was the harm?</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I checked the stairs to make sure I really was
alone before returning to the mat and furtively getting into the correct position
for what I wanted to attempt. A moment later I lay sprawled on my back trying
to stifle the giggles that threatened to erupt. I confess it now. I, Robin
Livingston, 57 year old grandmother of eight, did a somersault when no one was
looking. In fact I did two. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
I don’t know what got
into me but somehow, when I am around my grandchildren I remember what it was
like to be a child myself. I end up doing some pretty strange things. That
didn’t happen when my own children were small. Too much responsibility I
suppose. If you don’t have grandchildren of your own maybe you should borrow
some. They will help you to remember that it’s fun to play.</div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
Photo courtesy of Stuart Miles @ FreeDigitalPhotos.net</div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-14448266491960220642014-07-31T01:00:00.000-07:002014-07-31T01:00:01.099-07:00The Big Question
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPCepu-T5O0ov6fY3ifsfS7rbkBqq36qSk5YAK0L7IW06d-IFewYvolhe9uCSXbPnQHuQPh_tRJHE7UqBaT_pP8wwUNYt8JpARZuQ4t6clmzO8YKrcb21MEjKQhHj8CFAajEoNwTizf7pA/s1600/ID-100152581.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPCepu-T5O0ov6fY3ifsfS7rbkBqq36qSk5YAK0L7IW06d-IFewYvolhe9uCSXbPnQHuQPh_tRJHE7UqBaT_pP8wwUNYt8JpARZuQ4t6clmzO8YKrcb21MEjKQhHj8CFAajEoNwTizf7pA/s1600/ID-100152581.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype
id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" o:spt="75" o:preferrelative="t"
path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f">
<v:stroke joinstyle="miter"/>
<v:formulas>
<v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"/>
</v:formulas>
<v:path o:extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect"/>
<o:lock v:ext="edit" aspectratio="t"/>
</v:shapetype><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_0" o:spid="_x0000_s1026" type="#_x0000_t75"
alt="ID-100152581.jpg" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;
margin-left:-14.25pt;margin-top:38.25pt;width:211.5pt;height:211.5pt;
z-index:1;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;
mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;
mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;
mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;
mso-position-vertical-relative:margin'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\Robin\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg"
o:title="ID-100152581"/>
<w:wrap type="square" anchorx="margin" anchory="margin"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->Most
of us can look back at our lives and pinpoint certain events that were pivotal
in our growth and development. There have been a few of those in my life and I
expect that there will be a few more since I still have plenty of growing and
developing to do before I’m done. However, I am thinking of one particular event,
probably the most significant in my life. I know that it affected me at a
profound level and shaped my entire future. The memory jumps out at me, still
crystal clear after 40 long years…</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
It was the final exam in
my grade 11 Ancient History class. Odd?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, perhaps, but Roger McCombe was not your average teacher. He was
quirky and unconventional and we never knew what he would come up with next. We
could show up for class to find him wearing a toga or encouraging us to build a
chariot to compete in a race at an annual Classics Convention. He made learning
fun. He was a teacher who genuinely cared about his students and I think he
believed that getting us to ask questions was more important than getting us to
recite a lot of facts. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
One day he announced that
each of us would be scheduled for an appointment the following week and we
would be taking our final exam one at a time. We had one week to prepare and it
would be an oral exam consisting of a single question. All we had to do to
receive a passing grade was demonstrate that we’d given the question serious
thought. Serious thoughts take time so he gave us the question in advance. It
wasn’t complicated and no one had to write it down. He simply asked “Why do you
think you were put on this earth?”</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
I was 16 years old and
above all things, I wanted my life to matter. That question rattled around in
my head and I wanted an answer far more than I wanted a passing grade. I needed
a place to think so I climbed the hill behind our house and found a rocky
vantage point where I could look out over the treetops below. We weren’t a
religious family. We were Catholics but we hadn’t attended church in years. I
believed in God but all I knew about him was what I’d seen in movies like The
Ten Commandments or Ben Hur. It occurred to me that if there was a reason for
my existence, God would know. Maybe what I needed to do was just ask him.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
I had my very first
encounter with God on that hilltop. By the time I came down I knew what my
answer to the big question would be. When my turn came I walked in and sat
across the desk from my teacher and looked him in the eye. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
“I was put on this earth
to experience joy,” I said. He raised an eyebrow so I tried to explain. “I’m
not talking about fun or even happiness. I think joy is something far deeper
than either of those and I think that it comes from God.” There was a pause
while he waited to see if I had anything more to add but I shook my head
helplessly. That was it. It took less than 30 seconds. It was one question but
it was an exercise that shaped the course of my entire life. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
I think Mr. McCombe knew
his question had the potential to do that. It wasn’t really a final exam after
all. It was his final gift. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0cm;">
(image courtesy
of Master isolated images/FreeDigitalPhotos.net)</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-11980522591548940052014-07-17T01:00:00.000-07:002014-07-17T01:00:02.099-07:00Things I've Learned from my 90 Year Old Father-in-law
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaqx7b9Fouv89cdKyIWfWYKqAV4pWJerfzUnzVQJ5fZ14O-XqsZ8JTpXfN4pZqvaThiOsBLKTzmromWkff1UVbE4v8u5xWPxfzia0JtBfrWtkzJ90sX2p4MbyAwizwLC6HgW2DhIhrCP5/s1600/P1000710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaqx7b9Fouv89cdKyIWfWYKqAV4pWJerfzUnzVQJ5fZ14O-XqsZ8JTpXfN4pZqvaThiOsBLKTzmromWkff1UVbE4v8u5xWPxfzia0JtBfrWtkzJ90sX2p4MbyAwizwLC6HgW2DhIhrCP5/s1600/P1000710.JPG" height="320" width="252" /></a></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
<!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype
id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" o:spt="75" o:preferrelative="t"
path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f">
<v:stroke joinstyle="miter"/>
<v:formulas>
<v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"/>
</v:formulas>
<v:path o:extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect"/>
<o:lock v:ext="edit" aspectratio="t"/>
</v:shapetype><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_0" o:spid="_x0000_s1026" type="#_x0000_t75"
alt="P1000710.JPG" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;
margin-left:-.75pt;margin-top:48pt;width:207pt;height:262.5pt;z-index:1;
visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;
mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;
mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;
mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;
mso-position-vertical-relative:margin'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\Robin\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg"
o:title="P1000710"/>
<w:wrap type="square" anchorx="margin" anchory="margin"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->This
past Saturday we celebrated my Father-in-law’s 90<sup>th</sup> birthday. You
might think that he’d be ready to take it easy at his age but you’d be wrong. He
may have slowed down considerably but that just means it takes him longer to do
the things he insists on doing. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
He still lives in his own
home and heats it with wood. He cuts and moves his own firewood and makes the
trip down to the basement to stoke up the stove several times a day all through
the winter. He scoffs at any suggestion that he use the electric heat the house
is equipped with. He keeps a garden and still drives his tractor and his ATV. He
is working at ploughing and seeding down a field this summer and he has every
intention of going hunting again this fall. It’s the highlight of his year. Now
that he’s had both hips replaced he’ll actually be able to hunt without using
his walker. He loves the bush and always takes the time to scatter acorns or
walnuts so that new trees will grow.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
Change comes hard to him
as it does to most people his age. Some might call him stubborn but I prefer to
think of him as strong willed and determined. I’ve learned a thing or two from
him as I’ve watched him cope with getting older. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Just
because I can’t do a thing the way I could when I was younger doesn’t mean I
should stop doing it. I just need to learn to do it in a new way. Where there’s
a will, a way can generally be found. It might not be pretty but who cares?</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Everybody
needs some sort of work to do no matter how old they are. Having something to
accomplish helps get us out of bed in the morning and gives us a sense of
achievement at the end of the day.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Life
should always be more about what I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can</i>
do than what I can’t.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->I
should never give up on the things that are important to me.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->A
sense of humour always helps.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Family
makes a difference.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 46.35pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">7.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->As
long as I am alive I should be planting things for the future.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-outline-level: 1; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt;">Not
long ago Bev’s Dad asked him to help put fences around some of the young walnut
trees that sprouted from the seeds he’d planted. He didn’t want the deer to eat
them. He also had more acorns he wanted to scatter. He is a remarkable man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-outline-level: 1; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt;">It
made us think of a Greek Proverb we’d seen recently. <b>“A society grows great
when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in.”</b></span></div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-75714853848690391492014-07-04T09:05:00.000-07:002014-07-04T09:05:00.131-07:00The Secret to Contentment
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-p_lBcadR2CxUWaApO2eJ3QaPYwZg6jGt0hcb8wsY3BB0fHsJ4MwFAMsCHLtyHIHERoherX5yHu-BwogbIXlvFTEFAYH8nSirqiuTcIr8EjLdFgAEWhiAeItYCZ3NdrSW1yu_9lfv32VU/s1600/Dave'sHouse2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-p_lBcadR2CxUWaApO2eJ3QaPYwZg6jGt0hcb8wsY3BB0fHsJ4MwFAMsCHLtyHIHERoherX5yHu-BwogbIXlvFTEFAYH8nSirqiuTcIr8EjLdFgAEWhiAeItYCZ3NdrSW1yu_9lfv32VU/s1600/Dave'sHouse2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
We are heading up north
this week to visit my brother Dave. He has recently retired and moved to a tiny
home that he built for himself on the edge of a wooded section of a friend’s
farm. There is no driveway. He has to walk a kilometer or so from the spot
where he parks his car. He has no electricity and no plumbing and no internet
or phone line. There is an outhouse and eventually he will dig a well. For now there
is a trail through the bush to the river for summer bathing and all his
drinking water has to be hauled in from town. He does have a woodstove and a
tiny propane fridge which he considers the height of luxury. There is also a
propane camp stove. He has his books and his guitar and he is content.</div>
<!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" o:spt="75"
o:preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f">
<v:stroke joinstyle="miter"/>
<v:formulas>
<v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"/>
</v:formulas>
<v:path o:extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect"/>
<o:lock v:ext="edit" aspectratio="t"/>
</v:shapetype><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_1" o:spid="_x0000_s1026" type="#_x0000_t75"
alt="Dave'sHouse7.jpg" style='position:absolute;left:0;text-align:left;
margin-left:201.75pt;margin-top:351pt;width:259pt;height:194.25pt;z-index:1;
visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;
mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;
mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;
mso-position-horizontal-relative:margin;mso-position-vertical:absolute;
mso-position-vertical-relative:margin'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\Robin\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg"
o:title="Dave'sHouse7"/>
<w:wrap type="square" anchorx="margin" anchory="margin"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBFbTmU4APNVFcdojU5yGl6hIdXbajgjJjrh0HMdrN4Y_ByLvNVdjLgGFQJ6jeqNcNQ3ALWOBoqT_wruozAAKltmdktEb-eu6LttrcmTMMclMq_nUm3iK5yp7c8SEfk7RLtznWLOPVN3_e/s1600/Dave'sHouse7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBFbTmU4APNVFcdojU5yGl6hIdXbajgjJjrh0HMdrN4Y_ByLvNVdjLgGFQJ6jeqNcNQ3ALWOBoqT_wruozAAKltmdktEb-eu6LttrcmTMMclMq_nUm3iK5yp7c8SEfk7RLtznWLOPVN3_e/s1600/Dave'sHouse7.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>I am looking forward
to experiencing a taste of his life but I can’t help wondering if
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
I could ever be content
with so little. It’s one thing to visit for a couple of days when you know you
can go back to showers and flush toilets, electric lights and emails at the end
of it. Could I give up those comforts more permanently? I’m not so sure.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
There is a secret to
being content. Paul talks about it in Philippians 4. He says that he has “learned
the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or
hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” If Paul learned it maybe I can
too.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
Genuine contentment is a
rare thing in our culture where everyone always seems to be striving for more.
More comfort, more money, more entertainment, more recognition, everything bigger,
better, more up to date… The list goes on and on. I am not immune. I know I
often confuse the things I want with what I actually need. If I’m not careful I
can slip into the habit of comparing my life to someone else’s and wanting what
they have rather than what I’ve been blessed with. That’s a sure path to
chronic discontent rather than gratitude, peace or joy.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
Perhaps learning the
secret to contentment isn’t all that complicated. I expect, like anything else
you want to learn well, it will take practice. I can practice not making those
cursed comparisons. I can also cultivate a habit of thankfulness. I’ve learned
that gratitude is often a choice rather than a feeling. Last but not least, when
I take a closer look at that passage in Philippians I see that Paul went on to say
that the secret lay in knowing that he could handle any and every situation
through Christ who gave him strength. With practice I will discover that to be
true for me too.</div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">I’ll try to remember
that when I have to make a midnight run to the outhouse in bear country.</span></span><br />Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-17334990611819034702014-06-19T12:04:00.001-07:002014-06-19T12:04:51.986-07:00Are Your Roots Showing?
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQopZdu3RNhnuPhYi5IaUH8ubv3nau33eXiOdW0p6qouHlEg3Ic8KGoCDg2x74zoqIfHfB_PJZ9Vu3AUJerTPEPKfqJ5_khjsONVOYg0XsWJ1acaEzw7tfv7Wy98hPW_ViGEZOcomosqZT/s1600/RootsJust2shutter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQopZdu3RNhnuPhYi5IaUH8ubv3nau33eXiOdW0p6qouHlEg3Ic8KGoCDg2x74zoqIfHfB_PJZ9Vu3AUJerTPEPKfqJ5_khjsONVOYg0XsWJ1acaEzw7tfv7Wy98hPW_ViGEZOcomosqZT/s1600/RootsJust2shutter.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">Image courtesy of
Just2shutter/FreeDigitalPhotos.net <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span>I went to the dentist this week and the news was both good
and bad. I’d been more diligent than usual since my last checkup so there was
significant overall improvement in my dental health. There were no cavities and
not even much plaque. However, one single tooth was looking decidedly grey
compared to its neighbours. I was told that such a development sometimes
indicates that the root of the tooth is dying. That sounded ominous to me,
especially since there isn’t really anything I can do about it. No matter how
careful I am to look after the part of my tooth that shows, without a healthy
root I could lose it altogether.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I’ve been thinking about how important roots are, not only
in nature but in life. We talk about putting down roots in a place or a
community. It means we are settled there, connected in meaningful ways. We might
search out our family history or our roots in order to understand where we’ve
come from and have a sense of our place in the world. Our roots anchor us and
enable us to stand strong in the midst of the storms that sometimes overtake us.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
When I think of the roots of a tree I immediately think
about how those roots do more than just anchor the tree and enable it to stand
strong. They also draw life and sustenance from the soil they are planted in so
that the tree can flourish.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
What about me? Where are my roots planted? Where do I get my
sustenance and the strength to stand in adversity? Do I spend time and energy
looking after the parts of my life that show and yet neglect my inner life?</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The Bible talks about being strengthened by God’s Spirit in
our inner being and that with Christ dwelling in our hearts we are rooted and established
in love. (Ephesians 3:14-19) </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
That’s true. My life is rooted in my faith and my faith is
rooted in God’s love for me. That’s where my confidence comes from. It’s where
I get my strength and my peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not
too hard to check on the health of my roots. They may not be easily visible, but
if they are not healthy it will show in the rest of my life soon enough. I get
anxious and fearful and depressed. When that happens I know what to do. I need
to remember my roots…I need to check for and deal with anything that may have
damaged my connection with God. He is always willing to heal the breach. Then I
can go back to soaking up the life that comes out of knowing I am loved
absolutely.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I have a feeling it won’t be that easy with my tooth. Too
bad.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-75055900104425528342014-06-05T08:51:00.000-07:002014-06-05T08:51:56.108-07:00Spontaneously Silly by Robin Livingston
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLsIvoZkBqI1haMYgtKhyphenhyphenXVweteJv2vYZirDGoypnmg94UCN2ceOoOHrZbh64k_MehB5dNMvIlzrvbL5Ur9aiyhNS-XpqHTzvP5m_6jfxpKN6g0P_9Tv_T5GghO3KGMoYbfs7_B2sgxS0/s1600/Hot+Air+Balloons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLsIvoZkBqI1haMYgtKhyphenhyphenXVweteJv2vYZirDGoypnmg94UCN2ceOoOHrZbh64k_MehB5dNMvIlzrvbL5Ur9aiyhNS-XpqHTzvP5m_6jfxpKN6g0P_9Tv_T5GghO3KGMoYbfs7_B2sgxS0/s1600/Hot+Air+Balloons.jpg" height="199" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I love lazy, hazy summer afternoons sitting out in the
sunshine and soaking up the warmth. It’s too windy today for hot air balloons
but on calm days we often see them sailing overhead, bright globes of colour
against the backdrop of pale blue. There’s something majestic about their
silent passage. It makes me smile.</div>
<br />
Years ago we were sitting with friends on the back deck when
we saw a hot air balloon that looked like it was going to pass directly over
our yard. With one accord we all jumped up and ran out to the middle of the
lawn to watch it coming. Yes indeed, it was going to go right over our heads
and it was sailing low enough that we could see the people in the gondola
beneath it.<br />
<br />
We planned to wave a greeting when they got closer but my
friend had a better idea. “I bet we could spell out the word ‘Hello’ using our
bodies to form the letters on the grass,” she suggested with a laugh.<br />
<br />
There was no debate.
We all just looked at each other and said, “Let’s go for it!” <br />
<br />
There were just enough of us with the kids included to do
the job. It took a few minutes of giggling chaos to sort ourselves out and
assume our positions but we managed it and just in time. We held our collective
breath as the balloon passed, hoping that someone would look down and spot us
where we lay giving new meaning to the term body language.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
It was silly and undignified and thoroughly fun and it was my
favourite memory of the summer. I still grin whenever I imagine what we must
have looked like from above. Everyone needs a little spontaneous silliness in
their lives now and then. Laughter is good for the soul. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Image courtesy of creativedoxfoto/FreeDigitalPhotos.net</span></div>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5012780474393931470.post-34725792150211290682014-05-23T06:03:00.000-07:002014-05-23T06:03:21.734-07:00The Best Things in Life are Free <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
It was a holiday Monday and promised to be the warmest day
of a chilly May long weekend. We looked at each other over breakfast and my
husband asked that dreaded question.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
“What are we going to do today?”</div>
<br />
We looked at each other some more as we struggled to come up
with a really great idea. I was beginning to think we might end up tackling the
endless chore list for want of something better when I had a sudden
inspiration.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
“We could take our bikes and bring a picnic along,” I
suggested.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
It was decided. I started making sandwiches and Bev went to
get our bikes out of the rafters in the garage. It would be our first ride of
the season.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We wanted to see some new territory so we settled on biking
the first part of the Caledon Trail which is a Rail Trail stretching from Terra
Cotta all the way to Tottenham. We planned to get as far as Caledon East which
would be a 19 kilometer ride one way. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
By 9 am we were at the trail head in Terra Cotta, geared up
and ready to begin.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_U9p6-v2muCMOTrjDj5CMzU18jEwzOfKehtJMQaG8NcnFe2qR-Pjn_WHy-LetST2Xn98JVkXMfKgnI0w9fy6S-CqIz4QvQ5vgD_rYMqTAr5SC8CJhS1tfioEIfiQCjMjTlHBv1b5ttZoD/s1600/P1000204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_U9p6-v2muCMOTrjDj5CMzU18jEwzOfKehtJMQaG8NcnFe2qR-Pjn_WHy-LetST2Xn98JVkXMfKgnI0w9fy6S-CqIz4QvQ5vgD_rYMqTAr5SC8CJhS1tfioEIfiQCjMjTlHBv1b5ttZoD/s1600/P1000204.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<!--[if gte vml 1]><o:wrapblock><v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75"
coordsize="21600,21600" o:spt="75" o:preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe"
filled="f" stroked="f">
<v:stroke joinstyle="miter"/>
<v:formulas>
<v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"/>
</v:formulas>
<v:path o:extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect"/>
<o:lock v:ext="edit" aspectratio="t"/>
</v:shapetype><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_0" o:spid="_x0000_s1026" type="#_x0000_t75"
alt="P1000204.JPG" style='position:absolute;margin-left:30.75pt;margin-top:11.6pt;
width:357pt;height:267.75pt;z-index:1;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square;
mso-wrap-distance-left:9pt;mso-wrap-distance-top:0;mso-wrap-distance-right:9pt;
mso-wrap-distance-bottom:0;mso-position-horizontal:absolute;
mso-position-horizontal-relative:text;mso-position-vertical:absolute;
mso-position-vertical-relative:text'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\Robin\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg"
o:title="P1000204"/>
<w:wrap type="topAndBottom"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><br /></div>
<span style="mso-ignore: vglayout;"><table align="left" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td height="0" style="background-color: transparent; border: rgb(0, 0, 0);" width="41"></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="background-color: transparent; border: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></td>
<td style="background-color: transparent; border: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<!--[endif]--><!--[if gte vml 1]></o:wrapblock><![endif]--><br />
Dappled sunlight dancing through the vibrant greens of newly
sprouted leaves. The trail stretching empty before us.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwMh-DPlkhn5g_30xf1enkbHtQ_I-XhNCSwnBAkuO8J4oQzE3NNJ2RZsCYZwm43BUcdUPxWFrX6GsJSJ1Q-vE-Ah9lfgWMp5EaAJKVtykW8zKiRWCHnHZbTLZxjxy3BAU1kXJcH7GWCZp0/s1600/P1000205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwMh-DPlkhn5g_30xf1enkbHtQ_I-XhNCSwnBAkuO8J4oQzE3NNJ2RZsCYZwm43BUcdUPxWFrX6GsJSJ1Q-vE-Ah9lfgWMp5EaAJKVtykW8zKiRWCHnHZbTLZxjxy3BAU1kXJcH7GWCZp0/s1600/P1000205.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-no-proof: yes;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape
id="Picture_x0020_1" o:spid="_x0000_i1029" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="P1000205.JPG"
style='width:354.75pt;height:266.25pt;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\Robin\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image003.jpg"
o:title="P1000205"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--></span><br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The musical sound of water gurgling and splashing along tumbled
streambeds competing with the chorus of birdsong overhead. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKpiid2oQrBffzrhTk7sZ1ZosS0CNe6xwgI3SYFyBuC6-ukhPUo9GenUUOM4gc9Jcyx6_9jsSvKU1ivJffvUrHXSgXt7QzsjjT-af49ffsOUCotRQEY2XsR40-3C4sculPweunb09-wCAB/s1600/P1000207.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKpiid2oQrBffzrhTk7sZ1ZosS0CNe6xwgI3SYFyBuC6-ukhPUo9GenUUOM4gc9Jcyx6_9jsSvKU1ivJffvUrHXSgXt7QzsjjT-af49ffsOUCotRQEY2XsR40-3C4sculPweunb09-wCAB/s1600/P1000207.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-no-proof: yes;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape
id="Picture_x0020_2" o:spid="_x0000_i1028" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="P1000207.JPG"
style='width:363.75pt;height:273pt;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\Robin\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image005.jpg"
o:title="P1000207"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
The chance to stop at the river crossing to watch the
minnows dart in and out of the shadows under the bridge.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-no-proof: yes;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape
id="Picture_x0020_3" o:spid="_x0000_i1027" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="P1000212.JPG"
style='width:363.75pt;height:273pt;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\Robin\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image007.jpg"
o:title="P1000212"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--></span><br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOL_nNQLKtd331ALaKeJO25rfKGs2E-s-TNTh5zuznHq2t2wRJss_bYzJMsSfAf5gQo4T8jxKyagSmw_ZutzZWrrjnZFn6t3nHugkwhUs8J-U2ZMJoxNcLtd-Q1pRmdZzhFA5xzkajCXqF/s1600/P1000212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOL_nNQLKtd331ALaKeJO25rfKGs2E-s-TNTh5zuznHq2t2wRJss_bYzJMsSfAf5gQo4T8jxKyagSmw_ZutzZWrrjnZFn6t3nHugkwhUs8J-U2ZMJoxNcLtd-Q1pRmdZzhFA5xzkajCXqF/s1600/P1000212.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br />
<br />
The forest floor carpeted with trilliums in all their glory.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuKmK0_FDkGar7QLrxNno7DxdeQCOjydQ4_i5moLEs6QXIjIqOwGsb6mPe4uqhSVbFlgxumqSfuRb6Azb_L0JmB4EXT8AvlR7boDpsMcowp7h_ItAADZ6BkZQVEbM3BctF6XN3fmxFZ7C/s1600/P1000217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuKmK0_FDkGar7QLrxNno7DxdeQCOjydQ4_i5moLEs6QXIjIqOwGsb6mPe4uqhSVbFlgxumqSfuRb6Azb_L0JmB4EXT8AvlR7boDpsMcowp7h_ItAADZ6BkZQVEbM3BctF6XN3fmxFZ7C/s1600/P1000217.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-no-proof: yes;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape
id="Picture_x0020_4" o:spid="_x0000_i1026" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="P1000217.JPG"
style='width:363.75pt;height:273pt;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\Robin\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image009.jpg"
o:title="P1000217"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--></span><br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Even the swamps are beautiful in the spring.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLilVmR2Ug-KKRePAnWmGcjeYXRCLrqwflh8ptyc-NKE9c1rK_UrUXe0dPDH6Wy3Tvevwzi-Xg67v9-m62otcbR7tpJ2WH7SnlbUgX_ocQNOiKng9mVQcNQpC911uI6SRsq2UHk3ILIIlG/s1600/P1000219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLilVmR2Ug-KKRePAnWmGcjeYXRCLrqwflh8ptyc-NKE9c1rK_UrUXe0dPDH6Wy3Tvevwzi-Xg67v9-m62otcbR7tpJ2WH7SnlbUgX_ocQNOiKng9mVQcNQpC911uI6SRsq2UHk3ILIIlG/s1600/P1000219.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-no-proof: yes;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape
id="Picture_x0020_5" o:spid="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="P1000219.JPG"
style='width:351pt;height:263.25pt;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\Robin\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image011.jpg"
o:title="P1000219"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--></span><br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Wild strawberries blossoming all along the trail, the
promise of sweetness to come.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Our destination reached in time to relax on a park bench and
eat sandwiches that somehow tasted better than they would have if we’d eaten them
at home. Chai Latte from the local coffee shop for dessert and it was time to
begin the return journey.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
More stops on the way back as we noticed things that we
missed coming out. Ice cream at the General Store in Ingleside to celebrate the
day.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Finally, after 38 kilometers, we were back where we’d
started, our strength depleted and our spirits filled. Not bad for our first
try. We drove home in that warm and comfortable silence that is the fruit of
years of easy companionship. When we pulled into the garage at last Bev turned
to me with a smile on his face.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This was a really
good day.” <o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Yes, yes it was. </div>
</div>
Robinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047028911806278732noreply@blogger.com0