Favourite Season?

Courtesy: Google Free

Winter's past – Spring has sprung. 

What’s your favourite season of the year? For some Canadians the preference will be for the great awakening of spring, as nature emerges from winter slumber, greening up vegetation all around, drawing people out into frequenting garden centres and labouring in their gardens.

Among sun-lovers are those who can hardly wait for spring air to warm up and summer to breeze in. Many eagerly take the tarps off their boats and check out their rods, reels and tackle boxes, for it’s summertime and the fishin’ is easy (phrase from  Gershwin) , or whatever is their summer pursuit.

Gettin' Ready

 Forget spring and summer – what about winter? Is that your favourite? Energetic, avid winter sports types, with time and money to spare, might eagerly prepare to hit the slopes, waxing their skis and dusting off their roof-rack totes.

Each season comes with certain aspects that I appreciate. However: 

There’s an indefinable something about fall / autumn that captures my heart. 

The season has carved out a special place in my soul. 

Once the greening from chlorophyll is over till the next spring, those autumn leaves reveal the glories of their previously concealed colours. They fall, drifting gently by our windows, to lay a carpet of visual warmth and cheer. 

Nature's Carpet of 'Visual Warmth'

Autumn weather more fully exerts itself as we move further into the season, and we often feel cool-edged breezes and strong winds. Purply dark clouds cavort across energetic, animated skies which, at times, pour out their grapes of wrath, the rain and wind stripping stubborn leaves from branches, overwhelming eavestroughs, while plugged-up downspouts can prove a bane. 

On the other hand, times are when we open our window

Autumn Glory -  although slowly dying!

blinds or drapes to reveal fresh mornings, with frost-tipped lawns and white-tinged roofs, opening into beautiful, sunny days. These seem to say, Enjoy, but prepare, because winter’s on its way! 

Although autumn is for many of us a busy time in community and family activities, it is also a time for introspection; a time to prepare for life’s wintertime; a season for thoughtfully appreciating the simple pleasures and treasures of life. 

Autumn reminds me of my impermanence as a material entity – as a conscious, walking, talking, collection of biologically-coordinated atoms and molecules. In other words I too, like a leaf, will fall and, like the year, my days are numbered – hardly a comforting thought! 

Nevertheless I am comforted, for our Creator God and Father in Heaven has a divine plan – life beyond this life in fellowship with Him: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in [that is, trusts in and relies upon] him may not perish but may have eternal life” (John 3:16 NRSV). 

Words of Benediction: May our hearts be wide open this very day to receive the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God our Father, and the fellowship and ministry of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

~~+~~
Peter is a retired pastor – well, sort of retired – as he is currently engaged as an associate volunteer pastor. He lives in Southwestern Ontario with his wife, May, and writes a weekly inspirational newspaper column and occasional magazine articles. Peter is author of two books: "Parables from the Pond" (Word Alive Press) and "Raise Your Gaze . . . Mindful Musings of a Grateful Heart" (Angel Hope Publishing). He and May are also engaged in leading nursing home / residential chapel services, pulpit supply and music. ~+~

Music to My Ears

Music can lull a child to sleep. Gentle tunes that accompany the rocking motion in a grandmother’s or mother’s arms to soothe an upset or tired child and help her go to sleep. I have often held a child and put him to sleep while rocking and humming or singing, so I guess my voice is not too hard to bear.

While creating this post, I’m listening to soothing music, alternating piano and classical, and if I don’t fall asleep at the keyboard, you’ll hear what else I have to write. While I enjoy a wide variety of classical music, I also love many popular tunes that carry a melodic rhythm. But for resting, I want something that is gentle and relaxing and without words. 

  

I don’t remember our mother singing us to sleep but perhaps she did, or maybe my grandmother did when she lived with my parents for a few of their early years. I sang to my children at bedtime and now I sing or hum to my grandchildren when I have occasion to settle them for a nap or nighttime. Only when they’re older do they sometimes tell me to stop singing. Can’t win them all.

On a different note, my mother would say some piece of news was ‘music to her ears’ and I might be tempted to use the same expression from time to time. News I’ve long awaited, surprising news that’s happy or unexpected, but very good, might put that line in my head. This phrase is actually an idiom, I discovered. Oxford Dictionary of Idioms says that ‘music to your ears’ means “something that is very pleasant or gratifying to hear or discover.” There’s no mention of musical tones or rhythm or notes at all, just good news.

Tragic news would not be the kind we wish to hear, but news of an exceptional accomplishment, a long-awaited win or news of a new baby born to delighted parents is the kind I speak of.

Maybe we should recoin the phrase ‘music to my ears,’ but I don’t know how else I’d rephrase it. Idioms often mean something quite different than the words used in the term, but this one is easy to understand, I think. Something that’s easy to hear could ring like a melody. It might not rhyme or have a rhythm but is pleasant to take in and repeat. Like music.

As a Christian in an often difficult and sad world, the news that God loves us so much that he sent his son (John 3:16) might ring like music in our ears. Not the false words that led to betrayal. Not the cruel beating or hanging on the cross. Not the disciples running away because they’re afraid, but the act of love. That’s it — ringing like music in our ears. The gladness that comes Easter morning when we finally come out of those gloomy last days of Lent and Holy (hellish) Week. The hallelujahs ring like music in our ears.

I haven’t fallen asleep yet with the relaxing tunes floating from my speakers, but had I not been working towards the deadline of a post, I might have been tempted to turn off my computer sooner and say ‘goodnight.’ The music has been repetitive in rhythm but it is soothing, like ‘charms to soothe the savage breast,’ wrote William Congreve in The Mourning Bride, 1697. I think Shakespeare would have liked the line too.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjWMeSoNOzs 

Carolyn Wilker is an author, editor, workshop leader and enjoys music. 
www.carolynwilker.ca

Flying High by Glynis M. Belec

“A wise woman will always let her husband have her way”

      Don’t misunderstand me. Happy Hubby is as red blooded and fearless as the next guy. I’m certain he has what it takes to slay any dragon at the drop of his cloak and come to the rescue of his damsel in distress.

      But my dearly beloved is not so fearless when it comes to heights. Ever since I’ve known him, he’s always maintained that we’d have been issued wings with our other appendages if we were meant to defy the force of gravity. The thought of flying does not thrill him. Even climbing a ladder higher than a storey and a half puts the poor guy into a tizzy.

      Imagine my surprise last weekend when that darling man I married suggested we take a helicopter ride. We were behaving like typical tourists at Niagara Falls, seeing the sights and doing a lot of pointing. As we approached the heliport, the van slowed down and we turned into the parking lot. Like hot buttered popcorn, the kids jumped up and down with noisy anticipation.

      “Calm down, guys!” I ordered, noticing Happy Hubby’s smirk. “We’re just going to watch the helicopters for a while.”

      Not for one moment did I suspect my gravity conscious sweetheart would ever suggest taking off.

      “Let’s go for a helicopter ride. We’ll see lots more from up there.”

      “What? Are you sure?” I asked, mouth agape.

      “Close your mouth and bring the kids.”

      By this time the children were ecstatic. I still couldn’t believe it. After all, it was not that long ago, at Santa’s Village, when we went for a ride in the (small, not very scary) Christmas Ball Ferris Wheel. There Poppa Bear sat – the blood slowly draining from his face; perspiration dripping from his brow, and the ride hadn’t even started at that point. But we did appreciate his efforts.

      Flying over the magnificent Falls was going to be an experience for us all (in more ways than one, we later discovered). The kids were thrilled. We waited in line for a few minutes. When our turn came up I will admit that my stomach did a slight flip as we ducked under the great whirling blades.

      Happy Hubby took the front seat while the kids and I slid into the back. A young fellow helped us buckle in and the bearded pilot smiled, welcomed us aboard and instructed us to don our headphones. That was our last verbal communication with the pilot for there was a taped, tour recording playing in our headsets.

      The lift-off was not too bad. We all huddled a little closer in the back seat. I noticed my hubby inching slightly closer to the pilot.

      The view was incredible. The cars looked like Dinky toys and the built-up areas were so vast. Not sure how much of the view my dearly beloved had. He seemed to be staring straight ahead; trance-like.

      Then, without warning, the helicopter tipped; actually it turned but it sure felt like it was tipping – right over the Falls, too. For a brief moment I felt queasy. But I soon forgot about it when I noticed that old familiar sight – the blood draining from his face; perspiration trickling from his brow; white knuckles clinging to the seat. I started to giggle. Then we tipped the other way. Happy Hubby looked like he was going to grab the pilot. Although he didn’t move an inch, I knew exactly what he was feeling. I could read his body language. It was screaming, “Get me outa’ here! Stop this thing! Never, ever, ever, ever am I taking my feet off the ground again!”

      The ride lasted for about 15 minutes. I am sure my hubby thought it more like 15 hours. Poor guy. That was pretty brave of him to make that sacrifice for his family. He obviously did that because he loves us.

   Reminds me of Someone else who loved us so much that He made the supreme sacrifice.

The Good Shepherd did not have to do that for our sake. But He did. He made

that choice. He knew the ramifications of His decision. He understood the

abuse, the suffering, the sorrow; he realized the  cross was imminent.  

      Sacrifice always involves giving up something. My sweet hubby gave up his need for sure-footedness for the love of his family.

      Jesus gave up His life because he so loved the World. Can’t get much better than that!

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16

The Theme of My Life - Meyer

Recently, I was listening to a series of CDs recorded at last year’s Write! Canada. They were of a continuing class by Sheila Wray Gregoire. On one of the CDs, she asked the question of her audience: “What is the theme of your life?”

I really puzzled over that one. I know that the books, stories, articles or poems that I write need to have a theme. Even this blog post must have a theme. But my life…? How could an entire lifetime be summed up in one theme?

But as I gaze backwards now and think about my life’s journey, it can indeed be summed up in one theme.
As a young child, I dreamed of love. I had a crush on my grade 2 teacher. As a ten-year-old, I wrote an eight-chapter book about a nurse during WWII who travels overseas to find her brother and ends up falling in love with a soldier. I loved watching Roy Rogers movies where the hero would rescue the beautiful young lady from the men who were trying to steal the deed to the ranch owned by her recently deceased father. They would ride off together into the sunset with sweet music playing in the background. I dreamed even of a time when my father would return to be reunited with my mother. I dreamed of love.

But I never believed in it. Not really. The fairy tales of happily-ever-after were places I traveled to and places I inevitably returned from. They only lasted as long as the movie or book or the day dream in my mind.

I had given my heart to Jesus at a young age. I longed to serve Him. Every day, I worked hard to please Him. I worked hard so that He would be pleased with me.
Looking back, there are specific people whom I remember who began the breakthrough in my disbelief of love. I began to think that perhaps it might truly exist – for other people. It wasn’t until I met my husband and he said, “I can’t prove that I love you; you’ll just have to trust me,” that I came to understand what love was. I experienced it for myself and KNEW I was loved.

Still, I strove hard to win my Father’s love. I was constantly vigilant, fearfully aware of every little area where I might need to improve.

Then one evening, walking out under the stars, arm in arm with my husband, the Lord spoke to me and told me that the way that I trusted John’s love was the way that I could trust God’s love. I could rest in His unconditional love. I didn’t need to strive or live in constant fear and doubt. I could rest. As the Bible says, I was “accepted in the beloved.”

That should have been the end of my story but it isn’t. I still struggle with accepting the love of my husband, my family and friends. And I still struggle with accepting God’s love.

Coincidentally, I have just finished the sixth book in a series of novels that depict a seven-step journey of healing. The sixth step is: “God loves me.”

It’s true. God loves me. God loves you. “For God so loved the world that He sent His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.” John 3:16.

We just need to “believe in Him.” We just need to trust that He loves us. Walk into His arms and let Him hold you close. God loves you.

God loves me. The theme of my life. The theme of my song for all eternity.

Dorene Meyer
www.dorenemeyer.com

Contributor to Hot Apple Cider and A Second Cup of Hot Apple Cider
www.hotapplecider.ca
Author of Lewis, Jasmine, The Little Ones and Deep Waters
Now in book stores across Canada
Distributed by Word Alive Press www.wordalivepress.ca.
Available online and as ebook on Amazon www.amazon.com (key in title of book and publisher: Word Alive Press).