Today I took a walk down an "aural" memory lane. I spent two days in a little storage room filled with tattered old hymnbooks, old typewritten chorus books, cassette tapes and other assorted items. A filing cabinet contained years and years of church choral music & books, which have seen very little use in the last few decades. As I opened each folder, the notes and melodies floated from the pages and came to life and I could hear the rich sounds of the choir singing in our little church where the acoustics were so good that no microphones or booming speakers were necessary.
The children's musical book, "Bullfrogs & Butterflies" reminded me of the "Sonshine Singers" choir that I led for many years. How keen the kids were as we presented it several times. "Friends" was a youth production presented thirty years ago when our daughter was in highschool. The robust Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus" just jumped off the page. The full harmonies of "O Lord, Most Holy", "Sanctus" and "With A Voice Of Singing" rechoed in my ears.
It was enjoyable to recall all those beautiful songs and good times, but I came away with a deep sense of sadness and loss.
Somehow, I felt like I needed to find a graveyard for these rich musical treasures, thank God for the precious memories and say my last goodbyes.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Healing
In my Bible reading through the book of Matthew & Mark, I am amazed again at how many times Jesus healed the sick, whether they were blind, lame, demented, dumb, deaf or even dead in some cases. I'm sure he didn't heal every single person in the crowd because everywhere he went, people came in droves with all manner of ailments. But there were many who were miraculously freed.
Oh, I wish, so much, that it were so today, right now, right here!
Oh, I wish, so much, that it were so today, right now, right here!
Friday, January 9, 2009
The Dash
In this last week, I attended two funerals of wonderful ladies who fought a hard battle against that awful big C. Both have won and gone triumphantly, to their heavenly home. Their life stories were told by family and friends, of how they touched so many people in such wonderful and amazing ways.
When I wander through a cemetery, I always take note of the years engraved on the headstones, but never really noticed the dash between the years. 1948 - 2008.
A poet, Linda Ellis, has written a beautiful, thought-provoking poem called "The Dash".
Here are a few lines from it.
That dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So, when your eulogy is being read
With your lif'e's actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?
(you can "google" the entire poem on line)
Here are a few lines from it.
That dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So, when your eulogy is being read
With your lif'e's actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?
(you can "google" the entire poem on line)
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Small Wheels & Big Bumps
The snow in B.C. is beautiful and it really looks like a white Christmas. However, snow presents some challenges for drivers on the sideroads and freeways. Our little street seldom gets a snowplow and has never been sanded, but we get out just fine. Last night, I was clearing the light powdery snow from the sidewalk in front of our property, because last year about this time I got a real reality check for how important this act is.
It happened like this...
My granddaughter, was spending the afternoon at an office very near my house. When her mother phoned to say that she would not be able to pick her up after work, I gladly volunteered to do that for her.
Since my van does not have a lift for her power wheelchair, I decided to walk to meet Tessa and we would come back to my house. As I started walking I realized we had a problem. The main roads were clear, but my street was still slushy and snowy and many of the sidewalks had not been cleared. So I returned to my house for a shovel and proceeded to remove snow and chip ice patches all along the route. (major job)
The ride home was more than challenging for Tessa, because every patch of ice was scary and snow clumps resulted in painful, bumpy hurdles.
Please remember this. Disabled people are virtually shut- in their homes till the snow disappears unless someone kindly clears their path for them.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
A Story
A story is told of a multi-millionaire who lived in a beautiful vast estate. Besides all his wealth, his life revolved around his son. They enjoyed a wonderful father-son relationship and travelled all around the world. Their passion was collecting art, paintings and sculptures done by famous artists. Years went by and then the son felt the call to enlist in the army to defend his country.
Father was disappointed, and at first resentful of his choice.
The father missed his son greatly and was devasted when he received a call saying that his son was missing in action. Soon it was confirmed that he had been killed while trying to save one of his comrades.
In deep grief, the father mourned this great loss and went into seclusion. Day after day he sat alone in the vast rooms of his mansion, staring at the priceless paintings he and his son had purchased. They held no charm, worth or interest anymore.
When there was a knock at the door on Christmas morning, he instructed his butler to tell the caller to leave, as he was not receiving visitors. The servant came back saying, "Sir, it is a young soldier, who wishes to speak to you." He was allowed entrance.
He said, "I am the soldier, your son gave up his own life for."
The lad stayed for hours telling the father of many occasions where his son had put his life on the line for his fellowmen. How he had talked lovingly about his father and the good times they had together collecting all those treasures of art. Pride for his son grew in the dear father's heart.
The soldier shared that he, himself, also loved art and then, somewhat embarrassed, showed the father a painting he had done of his son. The resemblance was faint but the father graciously received it as a precious gift.
Several months later, the old man passed away. Instructions in his will said that an auction of all his artworks should be held on Christmas Day. The news spread, and art collectors from around the world arrived for the grand affair.
The auctioneer began with the first item - the soldiers' painting of the son.
The buyers jeered and heckled, calling out for the real art. The auctioneer replied, "The will states that this one must be sold first, so what am I bid?"
There was a long awkward silence. No buyers were interested. Finally a poor, elderly neighbour put up his hand. "Will you take ten dollars?" he said hesitatingly.
Going Once, Going Twice, SOLD!
Anxious buyers were now ready to begin bidding on the valuable art and were shocked when the auctioneer proclaimed, "The auction is now over. The will states that whoever buys the painting of the Son, gets it all!"
Father was disappointed, and at first resentful of his choice.
The father missed his son greatly and was devasted when he received a call saying that his son was missing in action. Soon it was confirmed that he had been killed while trying to save one of his comrades.
In deep grief, the father mourned this great loss and went into seclusion. Day after day he sat alone in the vast rooms of his mansion, staring at the priceless paintings he and his son had purchased. They held no charm, worth or interest anymore.
When there was a knock at the door on Christmas morning, he instructed his butler to tell the caller to leave, as he was not receiving visitors. The servant came back saying, "Sir, it is a young soldier, who wishes to speak to you." He was allowed entrance.
He said, "I am the soldier, your son gave up his own life for."
The lad stayed for hours telling the father of many occasions where his son had put his life on the line for his fellowmen. How he had talked lovingly about his father and the good times they had together collecting all those treasures of art. Pride for his son grew in the dear father's heart.
The soldier shared that he, himself, also loved art and then, somewhat embarrassed, showed the father a painting he had done of his son. The resemblance was faint but the father graciously received it as a precious gift.
Several months later, the old man passed away. Instructions in his will said that an auction of all his artworks should be held on Christmas Day. The news spread, and art collectors from around the world arrived for the grand affair.
The auctioneer began with the first item - the soldiers' painting of the son.
The buyers jeered and heckled, calling out for the real art. The auctioneer replied, "The will states that this one must be sold first, so what am I bid?"
There was a long awkward silence. No buyers were interested. Finally a poor, elderly neighbour put up his hand. "Will you take ten dollars?" he said hesitatingly.
Going Once, Going Twice, SOLD!
Anxious buyers were now ready to begin bidding on the valuable art and were shocked when the auctioneer proclaimed, "The auction is now over. The will states that whoever buys the painting of the Son, gets it all!"
Friday, August 22, 2008
MY SUMMER PRAYER
Thank you God for the summertime. Thank you for good family camping interaction with the energy of yout
h and the laughter of children. Thank you for family reunions.
h and the laughter of children. Thank you for family reunions. Thank you for the mix of sunny & rainy weather. Thank you for books written by inspiring writers, who opened my mind and imagination to new (aha) thoughts and transported me temporarily into another world. Thank you for reminding me of your never-ending forgiveness and love while reading "Redeeming Love" by Francine Rivers. Thank you for special moments of meditation in your holy word. Thank you for the chance to worship in that tiny little country church at Grindrod. Thank you for reminding me to trust you more during scary moments, (which I'd rather not repeat, please). Thank you for breath-taking scenery of lakes, mountains, flora & fauna. I stand in awe of your greatness. Thank you for protection on the busy highways. I am so blessed and I thank you, thank you, Lord. Amen.
Friday, August 8, 2008
How is your "Weltanschauung"?
This German word, "Weltanschauung" (pronounced..Velt-an-show-unk) means a persons world view or outlook on life. We can choose to look at daily happenings from a positive or negative perspective.
We have been blessed with a daughter who sees the positive view point in almost every situation. Back in her teen years, she would come home from a party or a school function or youth meeting, and give me an animated rerun of the event, the fun things they had shared. Then when I spoke to other parents about the same events later, I would often hear negative comments and impressions. I remember thinking, "Are we speaking about the same thing?"
She is still that way, even though her life has not been an easy street.
Our attitude toward life determines the quality thereof, affecting our relationships, friendships, health, etc. etc. It is seen in how we work together with people, how we respond to authority, how we treat the property of others, how we respond to disappointments or setbacks , and I could go on and on.
Years ago I heard Lucy Swindoll speak. She stressed,"Experience the moment, enjoy the good, learn from the bad, because it will never happen exactly like this again. Look for the humor in situations. This is life, not a rehearsal for the real thing."
I am often amazed, blessed and encouraged by friends who have a positive, caring attitude even in the midst of their own pain and hardships.
I tend to see the negative side of things too often, but I am trying to remember what my daughter says...."Is your cup half empty, or is it half full!" It all depends on your "Weltanschauung".
We have been blessed with a daughter who sees the positive view point in almost every situation. Back in her teen years, she would come home from a party or a school function or youth meeting, and give me an animated rerun of the event, the fun things they had shared. Then when I spoke to other parents about the same events later, I would often hear negative comments and impressions. I remember thinking, "Are we speaking about the same thing?"
She is still that way, even though her life has not been an easy street.
Our attitude toward life determines the quality thereof, affecting our relationships, friendships, health, etc. etc. It is seen in how we work together with people, how we respond to authority, how we treat the property of others, how we respond to disappointments or setbacks , and I could go on and on.
Years ago I heard Lucy Swindoll speak. She stressed,"Experience the moment, enjoy the good, learn from the bad, because it will never happen exactly like this again. Look for the humor in situations. This is life, not a rehearsal for the real thing."
I am often amazed, blessed and encouraged by friends who have a positive, caring attitude even in the midst of their own pain and hardships.
I tend to see the negative side of things too often, but I am trying to remember what my daughter says...."Is your cup half empty, or is it half full!" It all depends on your "Weltanschauung".
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