Turning Sad into Glad by Glynis M Belec

       I try to get along with people as best as I can for I figure what’s the use of being an opinionated, grouchy person whose busyness trumps stopping to ‘smell the roses’?

      Over the past seven years or so I’ve discovered life’s too short and my whirlwind days are better spent fitting in as much joy, kindness and love as I can muster. Days don’t always start out that way (I’m only human). Sometimes that opinionated, grouchy side tries to claw her way out. That’s when I open the trunk and dig out the armour – beginning with the Word of God.

       Reading scripture sure helps. So I try to do that every morning right before “Miss Grouchy, Opinionated Self” gets out of bed.

       Yesterday, I had lunch with a friend. Gillian (I will call her). I met her a few years ago at a fundraiser for ovarian cancer and for some reason we hit it off, stayed in touch and now we get together every so often.

       Gillian struggles with depression and sometimes she just needs to get away and talk. As we nibbled on our Greek salads yesterday, she shared about her friend who had recently committed suicide. Absolutely heartbreaking. We ate slowly. I wanted to say the right things. My “fix-it” side floundered. There was nothing I could say to take away her immediate pain and bring her friend back. I felt God tell my brain to calm down, to shut up and to listen. So I did (as difficult as that was for me).

Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, 

slow to speak, slow to anger 

James 1:19

If one gives an answer before he hears, it is his folly and shame.                  

Proverbs 18:13

           Gillian continued to pour out her heart – even confessing that she had such thoughts sometimes but wasn’t sure what caused her friend to cross the line. Then the tables turned. God opened the door. A few words flowed and then during our discussion the focus shifted from indescribable sadness to grateful gladness.

           Nothing had changed except the flow of our conversation.

          “I don’t know how people who have no faith in God, do it,” Gillian finally said, tearing up.

           We both agreed and by the time we had taken our last sips of tea, we were hugging and planning another get-together. Jesus gives us Divine appointments. This lunch date with Gillian was no exception.

She left feeling a little better that she was able to share a bit of her pain. I left grateful to God

that He had made me slow down and shut up long enough to listen; to really listen.

           In this crazy, helter-skelter world filled with so much scorn for the Saviour on so many levels, it’s good to find focus in the Word.

           We’ll never fix everything no matter how hard we try, but in the Word there is comfort, hope, and a thousand ways to turn sadness into gladness; starting with – In the Beginning. 

Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. 

You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. 

John 16:20

        Glynis lives, loves, laughs and does an awful         lot of reading, writing, publishing and                 praying in her home office. 

        How thrilled Glynis is to be part of 

        GOOD GRIEF PEOPLE (Angel Hope                     Publishing) - an anthology filled with stories         that help readers recognize, honour and               celebrate  the individuality of grief. 

      

                               www.glynisbelec.com 

    

Unwrapping Christmas - HIRD

By Rev. Dr. Ed and Mark Hird

-an article for the December 2015 Deep Cove Crier

If the wise men at Christmas had been wise women, they might have brought Jesus practical Christmas gifts like baby toys, food or clothes (not myrrh, frankincense and gold).  These wise men had no idea how their initial gift-giving at Christmas would eventually fuel the world economy, helping many businesses go from red into the black in December.  Why is it that gift-giving at Christmas has become so entrenched in most people’s lives?  Why is it that many of us struggle to unwrap the gift of Christmas?  Why is it that Christmas, the most joyful time of year, is also the most depressing time of year for many? 

As a child, I loved looking forward to opening Christmas presents waiting under the Christmas tree.  Our public school still had actual Christmas pageants in which I took my part as a Christmas shepherd.  As a teenager, opening Christmas presents was still fun, but it started to lose its Christmas wonder.  I still unwrapped the Christmas presents each December, but I never stopped to unwrap Christmas itself.  I never stopped to ask why we were making such a fuss about the Christmas season.  I will never forget when my mother had me go to church on Christmas day.  It felt like a radical intrusion into an important holiday time.   Why would someone go to church at Christmas?  Even though I had been raised in church, I had no idea that God came to earth at Christmas, that God became a little baby in manger.  I never rejected the meaning of Jesus’ birth at Christmas.  I just never thought about it.  It was so familiar to me that I was blind to Christmas.

Home blindness, the tendency to become oblivious to what is in front of us, is a phenomena recognized by social scientists.   People often say with regret that they never really appreciated what they had until they lost it.  Each Christmas, there are a myriad of Christmas movies that express the theme of loss at Christmas, and rediscovering the joy of Christmas.  The Christmas blockbuster ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ [originally called the Greatest Gift] went unnoticed at its 1946 release, so much so that the copyright license in the late 1970s was not even renewed.  This meant that television studios could show the movie for free at Christmas.  After a few years of this, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ became a cult classic.  Who can forget the conflict around the Christmas tree as Jimmy Stewart/George Bailey was close to committing suicide?  Who can forget the final scene around the Christmas tree when all his friends come together and unite in support?  Who can forget the joyful Christmas Carols sung by Jimmy Stewart, friends and family as they thanked the baby Jesus for the true meaning of Christmas? This Christmas, let not forget to unwrap the true gift of Christmas, the Christ Child come to earth to save us.

 

The Rev. Dr. Ed and Mark Hird, 

St. Simon’s Church North Vancouver

Anglican Mission in Canada  

-an article for the December 2015 Deep Cove Crier

-author of Restoring Health: body, mind and spirit

The Anatomy of a Suicide - Austin

I am no expert on the subject, but I know the punch-in-the-gut feeling of being caught in the middle, a friend hurting desperately, searching for a way out. He is the saddest drunk I know. He can go for months without a drop, but one beer leads to a 24 pack. I don't know how it is physically possible, but somehow he can down them in about two hours, usually with a harder drink or two in the mix. As intoxication increases, his mood plunges, but always the next drink promises relief. Then guilt sets in -- and he has now sucked back enough courage to take the next step. It has usually been drugs -- prescription or street drugs -- in massive doses. Then my phone rings.


A slurred voice, "I'm not gonna bug you no more, man. I'm gonna do it right this time." He uses a pay phone. He refuses to say where he is. He laughs at my questions, then sobs, "You don't know what it's like, man. You don't know."


The abuse starts then, anger at me, insults and cursing. "Why don't you just butt out and let me die?" He forgets that he made the phone call. He forgets that I have tapped every resource, activating a whole emergency response team each time he has done this. He forgets that I am convinced his life is worth saving.


I'm hard pressed to tell him why his life is worth saving in any way that he can comprehend, especially when he is drunk. I'm hard pressed at times to tell myself why his life is worth saving. But I've watched him grow. I've seen the intervals between crisis stretch longer and longer. I've seen him find joy in life and seen glimmers of hope for his marriage. I am convinced he still has something worth living for, something to give to his family. A one night binge is a poor thing to die for. He is worth so much more than that.


Love for a punch-in-the-gut type of friend is a strange thing. One thing is sure -- it is a verb, not a noun, an action, not some cozy feeling. The following poem expresses truth in ways that prose seems to fail me. Written between crisis that came too close together, with little healing time for either of us between, it is part of a self-distributed collection titled "Let Heaven Weep."

It Feels Like Anger

Love? It feels like anger -- and I'm tired to the bone.

I've been fighting 'gainst the things I want to say.

I really want to shake him, get a message through his skull.

A part of me wants to make him pay.

The crises come farther apart.

It's progress of a kind

and I know that in his way he's trying hard.

But I've walked this path so oft' before

and the cost each time is high

and I wonder -- can I do it once again?

Seventy times seven? Seems that number's getting close,

but God has not yet given up on me.

Don't know what I have left to give.

Already feel so drained,

and the days ahead are shrouded with a cloud.

But love is not a cheap thing,

is not given without cost.

Seems the Cross should be reminder strong enough.

And strange to say -- I believe in him

though the evidence says "NO."

and scores of others have washed their hands of him.

Love? It feels like anger.

Don't look for gentle words.

Look for actions that declare he still has worth.

And stand with me if you will for I sense I'm growing weak.

Yet I long to see him on the healing path.

Though my belief in him grows shaky

help me not let it die.

The God who loves me loves him deeply too.

And if we stand together -- so much stronger than alone

we can find a way to see him through.

Love? It feels like anger

and I'm okay with that.

Not beating myself up with shame and guilt.

I sense that someone's praying, so I'll last another day.

Maybe it will be the one that sees him free.

Copyright Brian Austin

b_caustin@everus.ca