13 Hours of Rain

Yesterday, we had the privilege to attend a nephew's baptism. I love baptisms. It is truly exciting to witness people making a deeper commitment to Jesus Christ. This particular service also addressed issues I have been thinking about, namely the "Art of Neighboring". The pastors of this church have been speaking about how to love the literal neighbors around you as well as your "neighbors" at work. I applaud the pastors for embracing this topic. It is very relevant. After all, if we are supposed to transform our communities with the love of Christ, we have to start somewhere. It begins with us, as individuals, as families. We cannot expect our church leaders or church programs to do the job all by themselves. The speaker also suggested 10 ways to connect with others (in bold). I've added my thoughts to expand upon the points. 1. Eat with other people . Invite people in your house for meals. Take people out to restaurants. Attend potlucks. 2. Work/pl...

A while back, I read Shōgun , a novel about sixteenth century Japan. It is written by James Clavell, an author who is brilliant at weaving history into fictional plots. The story captured my imagination. I was eager to read the rich descriptions of culture and ideology. Lately, I have been mulling over one scene in the book. A devastating earthquake rocks a village. Lives are lost. Property is destroyed. The main characters' lives are threatened. Yet, after the powerful tremors finally ceased, the people threw back their heads and laughed. Laughed! And then they all shrugged off the tragedy as karma , as fate, as the reaping of past deeds. Now I don't believe in karma in the same sense, as an inanimate force out there that ordains my destiny. But I do believe in the Will of God. I believe some things in my life were destined, like marrying your Daddy. I had a sense that I was to meet, or at least hear of, my husband 25 years after I made a commitment to follow Christ as a y...

I engage in a bit of freelancing. Nothing Pulitzer Prize worthy. I just volunteer my writing services for a local amateur magazine that features the journeys of newcomers to Canada. And I believe I am the lucky one. About 3 – 4 times a year I interview a newcomer. I hear and pen my speaker’s story, full of sacrifice. The goal of relocation to Canada? To achieve a better life, a safer life, a life as a complete family instead of being separated over many miles to make ends meet. One thing I admire about these men and women is that they speak and write and read in multiple languages. Some ignorant Canadians find themselves complaining that they can’t fully understand the often accent laden words of the dark-skinned employee serving them on the other side of the counter. Yes, we should expect a certain level of English proficiency in our country’s employees. However, many immigrants know two, often three, languages. That is to be commended. While here, in prairie suburbia, the majori...

Right now the wind is rustling the leaves of the lush trees in our back yard. The chimes sound out a pleasant note or two. Birds chirp. And yes, some annoying truck is making its presence known. It is an almost perfect moment. You kids are watching a show so I can write. We live in a region of the world that experiences peace more than turmoil. But scan the news headlines, and violence is near. The eastern part of our country is still reeling in grief over RCMP officers being gunned down. The country south of here is being bombarded with mass shootings in public places, often initiated by "good" citizens. Half way across the world, militants unleash terror on cities and nations while locals wonder if they will be alive to eat breakfast the next day. And yet here, it is calm. I hear a lawn mover cutting green grass and a central vacuum system whirling in the background. Oh, I know all is not well in people's lives. Domestic violence is a problem no matter where you go....

It was a moment of clarity, where so many issues whirling around my head were systematically addressed through the power of one inspired by the Holy Spirit to speak. I walked away from the experience more at peace. I’m not so different after all. There are others who think like me. The setting was a play date for you, my son, and three other kids. You all were running to and fro, playing tag, bumping heads, giggling, crying. In the midst of it all, I talked with your friends’ Mom about stuff I think about much. I listened to her experiences. Her words were like water, full of encouragement and exhortation and insight. We reflected on how the organized church is probably the last place to bring someone seeking Christ. Too many times, we try to bring a friend to church, hoping the pastor will say something phenomenal to “covert” the person. We try to trick our friend into hearing the gospel through the lure of bouncy castles and hot dogs. We attempt at perfection with some slick wors...