Monday, August 22, 2016

Growing Through the Winds of Change

Where can I go from your Spirit? Or where can I run away from where You are? If I go up to heaven, you are there! If I made my bed in the place of the dead, you are there! If I take the wings of the morning or live in the furthest part of the sea, even there Your hand will lead me and Your right hand will hold me. Psalm 139:7-10

I like to compare the seemingly natural occurrences of nature to human spirituality, because God is mystically intertwined in both.

Take the wind for instance. Even though we can feel it, we can’t see it; we can only see the objects that it moves. 

Sitting on the patio a few days ago, a sense of replenishment and peace came over me as the gentle breeze brushed against my face. 

This was quite a contrast from a few nights prior when a storm quickly approached, bringing with it potentially damaging winds, which forced me to take shelter. 

But even though I watched the storm from a place of safety, I couldn’t stop it. I could only create barriers for myself inside the confines of my home. Because the impact of its force could be felt until its energy had passed and was eventually used up. 

And like the wind, the Holy Spirit can’t be seen. But it most certainly can be felt within, prompting the human spirit to move into action. Who can stop it? We can fear it. We can put up barriers of blame and try to resist it. Or, like a constant breeze, we can embrace it and allow God’s power to push us in the direction He chooses. Either way, the Holy Spirit will pursue us until the soul’s energy leaves the body upon death. 

There have been many times in my life where it felt like I was chasing the wind, times when I felt totally depleted, times when life looked dark and bleak, times when I tried to fight the Holy Spirit’s direction for my life, only to be touched by the gentle breeze of His presence, assuring me that no matter how much I tried to run, or how often I failed, I couldn’t stop Him from pursuing me. Because like the wind swirling across the wheat field, moving the grain in many directions—Christ left us His Spirit—our moral compass, to guide us through life’s winds of change, which, ultimately, lead us back to Him.

With the busyness of summer winding down, autumn’s beauty will soon burst into an array of vibrant colors, only to appear dull and empty once Mother Nature drops her leaves.  

In life, we transition through these times of beauty and emptiness as well. We embrace one while dreading the other. But the psalmist reminds us in (139: 7-10) that beauty and emptiness are only temporary stages in life, and that the one unchanging factor, as we pass through them, is the pursuance of God’s hand upon us.



Monday, July 11, 2016

Retirement - A New Beginning

Today marks two years since I retired. I am not sure where the time has gone, but I am loving the quiet and solitude this new chapter brings.

One of the keys to a healthy retirement is to have a vision, to dream new dreams. It gives life to our soul.

For 25 years I identified myself as a Personnel Support Worker (PSW). But when I made the decision to retire from my job in long-term care, at the age of 55, due to recurring back issues, I wasn’t left wondering what the next chapter would hold.

A few years prior to retirement, I had taken up blogging, thanks to my daughter, and so this new chapter became an opportunity for me to enhance my writing skills further, which has opened up a whole new world of learning for me.

I realize retirement can mean different things to different people, though. Not everyone has the choice to retire early, like I did, nor do some want to. And while my transition wasn’t a difficult one, some do go into retirement with dread, and rightly so. It’s not easy giving up work-life routine or the social interaction and purpose associated with it.

However, life is a journey that is meant to be lived, a journey that comes in stages, and we must learn to embrace each stage and be grateful for life, as is. Because it’s a given, change will come. We can’t escape it. And neither can we grow without it.

Don’t allow age to become the barrier that detours you from your dreams. When one door closes, why not open another one?

Winston Churchill once said: “A pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees opportunity in every difficulty.” Which one are you? I know I can be both. But I have worked hard to keep the scale tipped toward the optimistic side. 

Friday, June 24, 2016

The Ties That Bind Us

What started out as a night of socializing at a well-known club, a supposed safe zone for gays, ended in tragedy perpetrated by gun violence, but more than that, it was a hate crime against the LGBT community, leaving many lives lost, and survivors forever changed.

Between sadness, fear, and anger this past week, I have been trying to transfer my thoughts into words of support for the families of this horrendous shooting that took place during the early morning hours in Orlando, Florida, on June 12th.

As a parent of a gay child, this hate crime felt like a dagger through my heart. Don’t get me wrong. There have been many fatal crimes against humanity that sent me to my knees, and while this one hit home on a personal note, it doesn’t make it any more or less severe. They all have in common a massacre of innocent lives. The difference for me is that the discrimination against the LGBT community had now escalated into a murderous rampage.

As citizens of the free world, this is not only a time to mourn for the victims and their families, but  a time of solidarity. It’s a time to stand alongside the LGBT community, to acknowledge the real discrimination they still face each day. It’s also a time to rethink the real terrorist threat posed by radicalization, a time for more accountability with regards to gun control. And it’s a time to re-evaluate our stance with regards to supporting old government laws, or, for that matter, the enactment of new ones, which can impede the path of equal rights for all citizens, including the LGBT community.

Since the shootings, I can’t help but wonder if some of the victim’s family members are finding out for the first time their loved one was part of the LGBT community. Or some knew but hadn’t come to terms with his/her sexual orientation, yet.

As someone who has walked this difficult road, I know coming out for our children, unfortunately, (even though it’s better today than it was ten years ago when my daughter came out) still carries a stigma, and it takes time to process. My heart breaks for the people who have now been robbed of this time.

Regretfully, though, we cannot change the events of this terrible night. However, the victim’s lives needn’t be lost in vain. Perhaps in time, if it hasn’t already, it will help estranged family members re-open the dialogue with their LGBT relatives. And perhaps the broader community will continue to step up and become advocates for positive change in the lives of the LGBT community and their families.

Perchance one day, when the grief isn’t so raw, we can look back in remembrance and see how this tragedy is the ties that bind us as one unified community.

Sunday, June 5, 2016

The Breath of Life

My insert for our church newsletter. 

Life on Earth begins with our first breath and ends with our last. It’s the breaths in between that create our legacy. 

Lately, it seems the world is becoming more and more dysfunctional. The struggles of humanity are all over the news, including terrorist acts in the name of religion, bullying towards people that don’t fit the norm of the masses, the plight of the homeless (including refugees), or scenes of wars and threats of wars…
Yet, in the midst of all the chaos, it isn't hard to marvel over the miracle of God’s handy work through the birth of a baby. In the womb, the baby is physically fed by means of an umbilical cord. But once it makes its grand entrance into the world and the cord is cut, it draws its first breath. This innocent little baby is now entrusted into the care of the people who will mold and teach it the way it should go. What an awesome responsibility handed to us by God.

So, if we breathe in life, it stands to reason that upon exhaling, our speech and actions should portray thanksgiving and hope, rather than despair. Because the children and youth of this next generation are continuously learning from our spiritual and world view, through our daily interactions and reactions within those views. 

I believe that if we continue to teach our children to embrace each other’s differences and look out for one another, the majority will follow suit. Because regardless of their race or religious background, they are a key part of the solution needed to turn the tide of fear in the world, which is shown to us by the numerous media sources available. 

I was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of this ideology put into action at our anniversary service on April 17th. Several Presbyterian churches had rallied together to bring a Syrian refugee family to Canada, and through an interpreter, they thanked the congregation. But what impacted me the most was the words of their six your old daughter. “Thank you,” she said. “I am not afraid anymore.” It not only brought tears to my eyes, but it gave me a renewed sense of hope for humanity.

During our luncheon, I watched the Syrian children laugh and play, and it became apparent to me that even though they didn’t know our language, they did, however, recognize the universal language of a smile, of loving eyes, and a gentle voice. Children haven’t learned to hate or discriminate. They are humble and innocent until they learn not to be. It’s no wonder Christ said heaven belongs to such as these. It certainly reminds us to guard our heart against discrimination, doesn’t it? 
I truly believe that if we strive to make our daily life a legacy of love and hope, of grace and integrity, we will become a positive role model for this next generation. And in doing so, we will show them the inclusiveness of Christ, the true breath of life.

Sunday, March 13, 2016

The Tree of Life

Since I’ve retired, I start most mornings sitting in my living room, sipping coffee, taking in the peacefulness of the day. It’s a refuge of sorts, where I can relax and let my mind wander.

On one particular day, recently, I became fixated by an old cherry tree, which sits outside my living room’s picture window. I thought about how it had survived the many intense storms and diseases over the years, and how, because of its deep roots and my husband’s intervention, it still stands healthy and strong (at its core).

Right now—during the winter months—the cherry tree doesn’t have the lush greenery hiding its imperfections, leaving us with a lifeless and barren impression. Yet, there’s still a mysterious beauty about it, because in reality, it may be leafless, but it isn't lifeless. It’s patiently waiting for spring, so it can burst forth into bloom again. 

It reminds me of times when I felt spiritually dormant, when I felt weighed down by the burden of an imperfect world.

Before I accepted the redemptive nature of God’s grace, there was hollowness in my spirit. I had built up so much inner turmoil, from a barrage of unexpected circumstances, my spirit was, basically, on life support. I felt unworthy, unloved, and far away from God.

But looking back over my life, I can see where God's hand of intervention not only had reached in to help endure the brokenness, but also the times where His pruning had helped shed the lifeless things to give energy to the new. And although I still fall dormant from time to time, my faith doesn’t allow me to linger there.

If we live long enough, we will all pass through wintery, barren seasons. And some will be much harsher than others. Perhaps you are passing through one of those seasons right now. If so, please don’t lose hope. Keep your roots deeply planted in the soil of God’s love. And even though you may be forever changed by this season you find yourself in, there will come a time of blooming again. You will survive this storm that life has blown your way, bringing with it the restoration of new life and new hope. Because—even in incidences where the darkness has masked the comprehension of His presence—God will never forsake us.

With Easter comes the onset of spring. It’s a season of new life, both spiritually and in nature.

The cherry tree analogy shows us the awakening of a tree, of how, each spring, it goes from a barren season of fruitlessness into a blooming and fruit-bearing one. It’s a beautiful transformation shown to us by God, through nature, that even though the tree was leafless; it wasn’t lifeless.

For us as believers, Easter is a time where we enter into the season of Lent. It's a time where we are reminded that Christ transformed the cross, from a symbol of death into the tree of life, and through His transformation, we celebrate an awakening of the soul; a time of reassurance that, upon His return, there will be a season of continuous blooming.


Friday, November 13, 2015

The Gift of Time

The Christmas holidays are fast approaching. For many of us, this means an enchanting season filled with yuletide shopping, colourful-house decorations, and get-togethers with family and friends; a time to revisit and enjoy those long-held traditions.

But for others, especially amongst the elderly in our community, the hustle and bustle of the holidays can be a lonely and mournful time, leaving them feeling forgotten and susceptible to the “holiday blues,” which can trigger the grief of their losses, such as the loss of a loved one or good health or the heartache associated with losing their own home as well as their own Christmas traditions.

In my 25 years' experience working with the elderly, I had seen, many times, the sparkle in their eyes that implied a past life of freedom and agility. One such experience took place at the Sears Annual Seniors Event, a heart-warming experience that brought family and friends together before the holiday rush, an entertaining night out in the lives of our elderly, who might have otherwise felt forgotten, if it wasn’t made possible by the many dedicated volunteers. 

This event would kick off with a little shopping, stopping along the way for some yummy holiday treats and a chit-chat, followed by the enjoyment of a local bands rendition of some well-known Christmas carols. As we joined in for a singalong, the magic began to happen. From the clapping of hands, to the stomping of feet, to the footloose and fancy-free dancing, for a couple of hours, the elderly were lost in their own little world. Maybe for some, it was a flash back to their youth, and, for others, maybe it was a time away from their loneliness. Whatever the case might have been, they were living in the moment, no doubt, and it was breathtaking to witness.

Sometimes we forget that behind an elderly face is a life well-lived. It's a life that has contributed much to our society; a life that desires love and affection; a life that, in many cases, has survived the war and the Great Depression as well as the heartache of having to outlive their child/children.

Let's put away our I-phones and become more mindful of our physical surroundings. Let's get back to more face-to-face interactions that our previous generations enjoyed. If possible, let's in the midst of all the hustle and bustle this year, find ways of enriching an elderly person’s life by giving them the gift of time. It costs nothing. It asks for nothing in return, only that we show up and be present with our presence. And who knows, if it hasn’t already, it may awaken a passion in you that extends well beyond the holiday season. 

Our time is precious to us, but if we spend a portion of it at the feet of our elderly, we well, most assuredly, find great wisdom there. 

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Being Grateful for the Now

Today is a gift and that’s why it’s called “the present.”

We spend so much of our lives seeking and longing for things that we forget to appreciate all it holds for us today. The past is the past. Our future hasn’t happen yet. The only thing we have control over is how we live our lives, right here, in the Now. 

When I read about the tragic death of Anna Whiston-Donaldson’s twelve year old son, Jack, four years ago, it saddened me to the core. His death not only sent me to my knees in desperate prayer for Anna and her family, but for my own, as well.

Our daughter, Heather, had come out gay a few years prior to hearing about Jack’s death. And life was really, really hard. Derick and I were distraught and gripped by feelings of confusion, (mostly, over religious views) and it had put a strain on our family, not to mention how it was damaging mine and Heather’s mother/daughter relationship. 

Anna's story of her dear, sweet Jack made Derick and I more appreciative for the Now. It forced us to look at our heart, bring together all that was close to us, and hold it closer. It helped to lift us from our own losses and difficulties, changing our perspective on things. After all, our daughter was still alive.  For the Donaldson’s, however, their world would only become darker. 

In the rawness of her grief, Anna poured her soul on paper, bringing forth her book Rare Bird, which was published last year, and became a New York Times best seller. 

I have read Rare Bird. It’s not a scary book about death. Anna openly wrote about the loss of her son, how her family found their way out of the darkness of grief, and back into the light of living; she openly wrote about how in the rawness of her devastating loss, her faith and love for God was tested, but found the strength to hang on. Anna’s words will bring you to tears, but they will also make you smile, as you come to know Jack and his family. 

Rare Bird taught me a lot about life, grief, faith, and trusting God in the storms. It taught me that the past holds both fond memories and sorrow, and that God purposely designed us to not know our future, but it’s living in the present that truly forges our path to this future. It taught me that when we show up and be present with our presence, whether it’s with a smile, a hug, or a listening ear, we are a channel of light, love, and compassion for others. But more important, it taught me to cherish what I have in the Now. 

Jack would of been sixteen today. He is deeply missed by his family and friends. And that will never, ever change. 

As for Anna, she continues to show up each day with her presence. Even through her grief, she is a beautiful channel of light, love, and compassion for others. 

You can read more about Anna’s story on her blog at Inch of Gray. She is also on Facebook.