Expectation by Tracy Krauss

I am approaching a milestone that some of you may not be able to relate to. This summer marks the eighth year since moving to our current home in northern BC. If I don’t up and move between now and then, it will be the longest I have lived anywhere since I left the nest way back in 1980. I won’t lie. I’m feeling a wee bit antsy. Restless even, like I need to find a reason to move – QUICK!

In thirty-three and a half years of marriage my husband and I have moved between 15 and 20 times depending on how you slice and dice it.  (We moved back to a couple of communities more than once.) We’ve lived in five provinces and territories including BC, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, the NWT and the Yukon. We’ve watched the northern lights, basked in the midnight sun, survived stampeding bison, and experienced more than one close encounter with polar bears. Add to that another ten plus moves before I ever got married and you might be able to understand where I’m coming from.  

Don’t get me wrong. Tumbler Ridge, our current hat hook, has been good to us. I have a stable job teaching all the things I love like Art, Drama and English. I signed my first publishing contract after moving to TR and I’ve had a pretty good run since. All four of my children (not to mention the two grandbabies) live within a two-hour radius. Compared to some of the other remote locations where I’ve lived, that’s pretty good. To top it off, this is a really beautiful part of the country. Waterfalls, mountains, hiking trails, relatively mild winters… I really can’t complain. In fact I’m not.

Yet…

bag already packed?

Somewhere deep in my gut I feel a stirring.  The call of a new adventure won’t be silenced. Is it the fact that so many other people have made an exit after the economic downturn in the region? It seems like everyone else is moving so maybe I’m just feeling left behind. My husband is one of those who lost his job more than a year ago. We had already started pastoring our church on an interim basis because the church could no longer afford to pay the pastor. Once my husband got laid off he was able to focus even more time and energy on the church. That was twenty-one months ago and it is now coming to an end as a new, full time pastor is scheduled to arrive June 1. The question is, now what? He’s been looking for work the entire time, but God obviously needed us to be focused on this transitional period in the church. We now wonder what doors He will open once we are released from that responsibility.

I honestly don’t know what the future holds but there is a sense of expectation. Perhaps this post will have an addendum in the coming months.

***********

Tracy Krauss writes stage plays, novels and other fluff while trying to adjust to the notion of putting down roots - not an easy task for a compulsive wanderer. Visit her website for more: "Fiction on the edge without crossing the line"

  

Eggnog – It’s Over . . . for Now by Peter A. Black

You – a loving and caring, thoughtful individual – may feel bombarded, if not overwhelmed, by the multitudinous matters of great import that day after day mount an assault on your consciousness, as wave after wave of distressing, heartrending news reaches you through every kind of media.

These impact your mind, engage your sensibilities and stir your emotions.
News of tragedy, disrupted lives, privation and loss that people suffer, may go right over some folks’ heads – especially if occurring on the other side of the country or the world. But not over yours; you’re sensitive. You wince, torn inside, because you’re already committed to supporting numerous causes, and are unable to accommodate yet another.

Who can fault you for lapsing into a few wistful moments of retreat to squeeze comfort from memories of good times and pleasant experiences past? – And from favourite comfort food? Although the year is young, its infancy is about over, yet there’s time enough for the resumption of diet and exercise routines or whatever you may have resolved on January 1^st. (Disclaimer: Don’t  take that as actual advice.) Point: even caring folks need a break from clamouring calamity.
 
Before I commenced framing these musings I went to the fridge and extracted a carton of eggnog, a vestige of the Christmas, New Year and Festive Season. I admit it. I’d spun this supply out as long as I could. It was still fresh, coddled in chilly recess at the back of the fridge.
Please don’t grimace if you can’t stomach that enchanting elixir of Christmas cheer, and I implore you not to judge me – at least not too harshly – for my sentimental eccentricity.

And so, I prepared a bold half-decaf coffee containing a generous dash of eggnog and milk. I ‘nuked’ it to bring the temperature back up to steaming hot and perched it nearby the computer, for sipping on the job, and then began these ramblings. Aahh, the festive season lives! But I know it’s really over once the stored up eggnog runs out.

What particularly signals a season of the year or in your life truly over? You no longer cling to it; you know it’s dead and gone. Each season in nature begins and ends, although there can be overlap and fudging of the signs, such as when wintry weather doesn’t come till well after winter’s official commencement, or we get a premature blast in an early snow dump.

A woman holds on to her wedding dress for years, picturing her daughter wearing it on her wedding day. Tragically the girl dies young. The woman’s husband forsakes her for another’s embrace, yet she occasionally plucks that cherished dress from the closet and holds it to her cheek. Fresh tears fall, spotting the silken white memory. Oh God, help him remember his vows; bring him home to me, she sobs. But no, he divorces her.

It’s over. The dress can now go. Although wounded she has no lack of love in her heart, yet this is the first day of the rest of her life. It’s time to move on – but only thoughtfully and prayerfully. Time to heal. And so, she presses on, with gratitude for the good that was, for the good that is, and for the grace that will lead her on to discover the good that God has in store.

The spirit of Christmas lives on in grateful, loving hearts. The season’s festive trappings are stored away and its comfort food and drink are gone for now. Nevertheless, Jesus our Saviour, our Emmanuel – the God who is with us – comforts us along life’s pathway. 

~~+~~ 
Photo Credits: Eggnog Cup: Polyvore.com
Wedding dress: A. Black; Wooded Trail: P. A. Black

Peter writes a weekly inspirational column and enjoys singing inspirational music and playing piano, organ and accordion, and encourages the upward focus. His latest book –  "Raise Your Gaze ... Mindful Musings of a Grateful Heart" – reflects this in a variety of brief articles and stories:
Author:
"Parables from the Pond" – a children's/ family book (Word Alive Press)
"Raise Your Gaze . . . Mindful Musings of  Grateful Heart (Angel Hope Publishing)

Blog Raise Your Gaze
Email:      

 

Musings on Remembrance (Peter A. Black)

My apologies. I’m red-faced, since I overlooked posting as scheduled on Nov 12 – the day after Remembrance Day.  Here is a slightly modified edition of my column article published in  P-Pep! column during the week in The Guide-Advocate – on November 14, 2013.                              

With Remembrance Day now behind us for another year, we look ahead towards other upcoming points on the cultural calendar horizon. Most notable – if not unavoidable, Christmas and New Year. In between times some Canadians of African heritage will celebrate Kwanza, while the Jewish community will observe Hanukkah.

And yet, should we relegate Remembrance to only one day of the year – shrug off the spectre of war, and the broken bodies and minds and the ravaging disease and death that it brings, especially when it’s still happening elsewhere in the world?

The human condition and humanity’s survival require that we move on; therefore, seasons of celebration are needful and appropriate, even when there remains much over which to grieve. Hope is a forward-looking view and emotion. Without the expression of hope, civilization would collapse and fall into an abyss in which evil and darkness and despair reign supreme.

Hence, we honour our war dead and wounded, and our veterans and armed forces personnel, by moving forward in hope, enjoying the freedoms and liberties secured at tremendous cost. However, do we not advance into the future and celebrate freedom best, when we keep in mind the price that was paid and are not indifferent to the plight of others still oppressed?

The Advent season begins several weeks from now, commencing the preparation period in anticipation of celebrating Christmas and the birth of Christ. I mention it now because that observance illustrates my point about hope and moving on, while keeping in mind the historical  past.

Advent culminates in the celebration of Jesus Christ’s coming to earth in humility through His birth at Bethlehem – Divinity enrobed in humanity. That’s celebration of a past event. Yet Advent also looks forward in hope of His coming again in glory, honour and authority. That’s anticipation.

Most branches of the Christian community convene communion services at regular intervals during the course of the year, in which emblems of the Lord Jesus’ body and shed blood are represented in morsels of bread and wine or grape juice. By their partaking of those emblems communicants express their confidence or faith in the Lord Jesus’ sufferings and death as the all-sufficient sacrifice for their sins and failures, the means through which they are reconciled to God.

Like Advent, communion is a celebration of Jesus’ first coming (First Advent) and anticipates His return (Second Advent). When instituting this service (The Last Supper – Jesus’ final meal with His disciples, before His betrayal and crucifixion) He instructed them to “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19). Later Paul wrote, “For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Cor. 11:26). There you have it: celebration in commemoration of a past event, and anticipation of an event yet future.

Meaningful remembrance inspires thoughtful action and an upward path of life. It is why my niece travels to remote communities in developing countries, initiating and monitoring programs for feeding and better farming practices and well-digging.

My late friend, Rev’d Fr. Saldanha, remembered the poor and orphaned in his native India, and inspired others to accompany him on trips back home, bearing help and hope for a better future in Jesus’ name. It is why my pastor-missionary colleagues Ken and his wife Marge return to encourage their beloved friends in Africa. They remember the price Jesus paid and move forward in hope.

May meaningful remembrance inspire us also.

~~+~~

Peter A. Black is a freelance writer in Southwestern Ontario, and is author of “Parables from the Pond” – a children's / family book (mildly educational, inspirational in orientation, character reinforcing). (Finalist -- Word Alive Press ISBN 1897373-21-X)

His inspirational column, P-Pep! appears weekly in The Guide-Advocate. His articles have appeared in 50 Plus Contact and testimony, and several newspapers in Ontario. Peter’s current book project comprises a collection of 52 column articles.

~~+~~

A Devoted Couple (by Peter Black)

They were our neighbours. My wife and I used to see them sitting together most days. Sometimes we’d hear them chatting quietly back and forth, and other times they’d remain side by side for long periods, not making a sound. I guess they were comfortable and content in each other’s company—obviously a devoted couple. 

The time came when they had a couple of kids. My, how they cared for them! Great parents they were, both sharing the responsibility. And work? Oh yes, they were workers alright, providing for the needs of their young family, preparing meals and feeding the little guys, and yet they arranged their schedules so that there was always one parent at home with them.

As with many of us who have raised a family, it  seemed no time at all before the youngsters began flexing wings independence. And then to our surprise, they were soon up and gone. With the freedom their empty nest gave them, the parents took occasional trips away, but it was never too long before they’d be back, enjoying each other’s company and their surroundings as usual.

And then, one day there was just one partner, sitting alone.
Alone one day, alone the next and the next . . . 

~~~

 

We missed those neighbours, a pair of mourning doves. I’m sure that one had fallen victim to a neighbourhood cat or racoon, or met with some fate or other. Whether the remaining bird was the male or female, I’m not certain. They’d been good company for us. I liked the simple musicality of their gentle mating call and soft cooing communication, which I fancied was lovey-dovey sweet nothings.

Many birds spend time around our back yard, but I think the lifelong monogamous relationship of doves is special. Their joint devotion to caring for their young mirrors that of committed, loving human couples.

I’m sure the male was our surviving dove. Day after day he appeared anxious and unsettled, shuffling restlessly along his usual perch. He’d launch himself into the air, circle a short distance, land on the old maple for several seconds, then take off and return to his perch. Shortly after, he’d go through a similar routine all over again.

I reckon he didn’t know what to do; he was mourning, lost without his mate. Grieving in silence. He didn’t make any calls or even soft cooing sounds. I felt sorry for him and reflected how some people who, having lost their life-partner, struggle with loneliness, many of them (especially men) grieving in silence—alone.

I’ve observed—and clinical studies have shown—that surviving partners who have several good connections fare better, whether family or caring friends. Although they may deeply miss their loved one and mourn, and might reminisce and talk about former good times, yet are less likely to remain stuck there.

Sharing and friendship helps them in time to move from mourning into a grieving that allows them to grow and look forward. How precious it is to have caring people in our lives, especially at a time of loss; let us not push them away in our time of grief.

Our lonely dove disappeared for a few days. And then, one morning I heard it again—that familiar soft cooing. There by his side on the old perch was a new partner. He was ready and had reached out, and another companion came alongside. He’s moving on.

Loving devotion raises my gaze . . . Heavenward.

Yours too?

~~+~~

Peter A. Black is a freelance writer in Southwestern Ontario, and is author of “Parables from the Pond” – a children's / family book (mildly educational, inspirational in orientation, character reinforcing).

(Finalist -- Word Alive Press ISBN 1897373-21-X)

His inspirational column, P-Pep! appears weekly in The Guide-Advocate. His articles have appeared in 50 Plus Contact and testimony, and several newspapers in Ontario.
Peter's current book project comprises a collection of 52 column articles.
The post above has been adapted from P-Pep! column article, published August 8, 2013.

~~+~~