Immanuel and the Man on the Moon by Rose McCormick Brandon

 The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel (which means “God with us”). Matthew 1:23

Jesus, our Immanuel, is our very own God to love and cherish. Immanuel knows us, listens for our voice, hears our prayers, revels in our praises. He is always with us – in the uncomplicated days of youth and in the trenches when life gets tough. Wherever we are, He is there. If we could soar to the moon, as James Irwin did, Emmanuel would be there with us.

“I felt the power of God as I’d never felt it before,” Irwin said of his Apollo 15 mission in July 1971. From his vantage point on the moon earth appeared the size of a thumbnail. It reminded him of a fragile Christmas ornament hanging in space. “It was touching to see the earth from this perspective,” he said. Irwin felt God so near He looked over his shoulder expecting to see Him.

Prior to his moon mission Irwin was a self-described “bump on a log Christian.” Afterwards, he formed The High Flight Foundation and devoted his life to sharing the love of Jesus

On the moon Irwin felt inspired to quote from Psalm 121: “I lift up my eyes to the mountains – where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.”

Soar to the heavens. Immanuel is there. Sink to the depths. He is there (Psa. 139:8). Immanuel, God with us, fills the soul with wonder and takes the fear out of living.

No power can wield any strength against me when He is with me (Rom. 8:31).

Before lifting off the earth to return to His rightful place at God’s right hand, Immanuel spoke these unforgettable words: 

“I am with you always, to the very end” (Matt. 28:20).

Prayer: Today, my Lord, I take time to consider that You are with me, always and forever. I’m never alone.

***

Rose McCormick Brandon lives in Caledonia, Ontario with husband Doug. An award-winning personal experience and inspirational writer, Rose contributes to denominational publications and devotionals. She writes and teaches Bible Studies, authors biblical essays and is the author of the Canadian history book, Promises of Home – Stories of Canada’s British Home Children. Her book, One Good Word Makes all the Difference, contains stories of her personal journey from prodigal to passionate follower of Jesus. She is the mother of three adult children and grandmother of four. 

Blessings on the road ahead --Carolyn R. Wilker

Our neighbours across the street have sold their home and will be moving away. Seniors in their 80s, they've gone to Florida for winters for many years. We have come to know them over time as we talk about gardening and other matters of concern to both of us. Today we will celebrate with them as they prepare for a new step.

My husband and I grew up in a rural community and were used to knowing our neighbours, even when they lived a half mile away. Neighbours might work together in threshing groups and share a combine or they may help out someone struggling to get crops in when circumstances prevent that owner from getting it done, whether illness or accident in the family. The community becomes like an extended family, such as in 1979, the year my parents’ community banded together to help those who endured losses after a devastating tornado.

When we moved to the city, on account of my husband’s job, we soon learned that city people operate a little differently. While they live closer together, residents do not necessarily mix. We found, though, that where there were children, families tend to talk a little more and watch out for another child. And the time our car got stuck on a snow-clogged street one of our first winters on this street, residents came out of their homes to help dig out our car. I was most grateful.

We met two neighbours the first few days we moved to our current home, one when our daughter borrowed a can opener so my mother and aunt could make lunch for the moving crew. The second, on the day after our move, when our next-door neighbour came to welcome us and introduced himself. We would have to wait until Easter when our snowbird neighbours from across the street came home from Florida. Eventually, I crossed the street and said hello.

 When we built our workshop, the gentleman across the street would come over from time to time to see how things were going. And thus relationships began to build.

Then as our grandchildren came along, his wife began bringing back small surprises from their trip for our small ones, and I would take the children over to see her sometimes.

In times past, before Internet connections and cell phones make long distance communication possible, when a family was moving away, their neighbours might never see them again. Someone might say, “God go with you,” on what could be a perilous journey across the ocean, to a far-off land.

So too, today, in spite of advances in travel, we do not know what tomorrow will bring. We, too, send off our visitors from our door with a handshake or hug, wishing our guests a safe journey.

And so this afternoon, I will host a gathering in honour of our neighbours who are moving. We will have tea, lemonade and some treats along with time for socializing with one another. We may not say good-bye forever, necessarily, but we will mark this change in their lives. Thus I share my thoughts through an Irish blessing, the tune in my head as I write. It offers peace and well-being and the message, “God go with you.”

May the road rise up to meet you

May the wind be always at your back

May the sun shine warm upon your face

And rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

If you'd like to hear the melody, go here. 

When things take us by surprise—Carolyn R. Wilker

This week has been one of surprises and evidence of change in our lives—some of which does not come entirely by surprise. You see those little signs of those changes, if you look for them, but others, such as a death, can completely turn your world upside down and change the landscape around you.

Earlier on Friday, Heather came for a visit, one that we’d planned weeks ago. We talked about our work and other activities we’re engaged in and how those events shape our lives and contribute to both health and happiness or stress and distress. And since we both enjoy word games, I brought out my Scrabble board and letter tiles and we played a game.

 Before the visit was over, I received a phone call from someone who asked me to sit down before she relayed her news. Surprises, and yet in some ways we might have seen this coming. But still I was not ready to hear it. I had to deal with that at the moment and then, because I had a guest in my home and an event to host that evening, I had to set that news aside or at least try to.

On our way to storytelling, my friend Judy and I talked about events and circumstances that could take over the rest of our lives. She called it compartmentalize, which means to set something into its own space, then deal with it at a separate time.

We had a good evening of storytelling at The Button Factory, with engaged listeners and a great variety of stories, including two of the musical variety. It was my first time to host, and it had gone well. I had been able to focus, to tell my stories and lead the evening, with only a hint to a fellow storyteller that other things had absorbed my attention and, therefore, I hadn’t much time to feel nervous. But my stories were ready and I was ready to tell them.

Home again, and nearly ready to settle in for the night, I quickly checked email on my Playbook, for it was 11:00 p.m. by that time. While sipping on a last cup of tea, I checked if anything of an urgent nature had come up. One email caught my eye and seemed more prominent than the rest. Had I read it correctly? I scanned the email again and tried to shut out everything else from the day. Denise’s husband had died. I didn’t know Dennis, but I know his wife Denise. Through The Word Guild, through Write! Canada and events I’ve attended where she’s been there also.

Compartmentalize again. I decided to send a card to Denise since I couldn’t get to the funeral. I want her to know she’s in my thoughts and prayers, especially now.

In my dreams all those pieces of news swirled around and around, my weary brain trying to sort everything out and put it into order.

 As I process all this news and think of the implications, I remember again that God is with us wherever we are. He knows our thoughts, our worries, our concerns and our delight.

 I must admit that I have a hard time putting my worries in his lap and leaving them there, but I try again. Nothing will bring Dennis back, but we have the certainty of knowing he is with God now. That much will be a relief to his family in this sad time.

While other matters seem to be unsettled, we will eventually deal with those too. Perhaps compartmentalize is the best word after all, that and accepting the grace available to us, through no actions of our own. God with us.

Carolyn R. Wilker, editor, writer, storyteller

www.carolynwilker.ca