Three-Hundred Years . . . Of Marriage! (Peter A. Black)

I acknowledge the passing a week or so ago of two members of The Word Guild. Many of us, myself included, benefitted hugely from the generosity and grace and writing-related skills of Anna Elizabeth Wiseman and Wendy Elaine Nelles.

Wendy’s memorial service in Simcoe, Ontario, was a full-house event. I saw a good number of TWG friends there, and am glad I was able to connect with several of them. Another memorial event will be held in the Toronto area later. 

I regret not being able to attend Anna’s service. However, I honour and thank God for both ladies’ lives and ministries, and I pray with others of you for our Heavenly Father’s comfort and peace for their loved ones.

The piece below is on another topic. Unfortunately, I don’t have permission to post photos of the participants.

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Close family and friends crowded into the space, along with supportive resident neighbours.  Smiling, helpful staff pinned boutonnieres on five ‘grooms’ and placed beautiful bouquets in the hands of the ‘brides.’  Five couples – three-hundred years total, to date, of shared life!

Mine was the distinct honour and joy of ‘officiating’ at this Marriage Affirmation (or Rededication), last week. In the case of three couples only one of the respective partners is resident in the care facility, whereas both partners of two couples are resident.
The length of those marriages currently range from fifty-four to sixty-five years. Last year, we said goodbye to a couple who passed away in their seventy-forth year of marriage. Wow! How common is that kind of duration likely to be in our society in the years to come?

Not "my" couples. Credit: www.boredpanda.com ; google free

People in developed countries on average are living longer nowadays, but I wonder about the longevity of stable marriages or lifetime spousal relationships from here on.

Back to the event: A group of senior musicians played golden oldies, while the brides and grooms lined up in the hallway. Two were in wheelchairs. One gentleman, his hands gripping his walker handles with all his might tried to control his incompliant limbs, aided by his wife.

Credit: mustard.org.uk

The musicians struck up, I’m Getting Married in the Morning . . . get me to the church on time. The couples filed in and formed a curved line, proudly standing as able or sitting, side by side. Their radiant faces and sparkling eyes beamed out joy and love.

I detected a wistful, far-away look radiating from several faces, which I’m sure communicated that their minds had drifted back to that memorable day when they declared their commitment to their spouse, many decades before. 

In my introductory remarks I shared this verse often read in traditional Christian weddings:

“Unless the LORD builds the house [or, household / family], its builders labor in vain” (Psa. 127:1a, NIV). 

I added that our Lord taught that those who are wise build their house (including household and family and life) on a rock; that is, on the sure foundation of Jesus and His teachings and wisdom. Against these the storms of life cannot prevail.

It has been said:

A smooth sea never made a successful sailor. 

Undoubtedly those couples weathered many a storm throughout the decades. My concluding thought before leading them through their affirmation was in the adage:

The perfume of kindness travels even against the wind.

Moments later, I led the couples through an affirmation of their commitment to each other in the “sight of God and these witnesses.” And then, following the benediction the band struck up again, and cake and ice-cream and punch were served.

God bless’em, every one.  God bless’em!

~~+~~

Peter A. Black is a retired pastor – well, sort of retired – and lives in Southwestern Ontario. He writes a weekly inspirational newspaper column, P-Pep! and is author of Raise Your Gaze ... Mindful Musings of a Grateful Heart, and Parables from the Pond – a children's / family book. ~~+~~

Faithful to Write - Tracy Krauss

The words of Habakkuk Chapter Two resonate in the ears of many Christian writers I know - including me:

I will stand at my watch

and station myself on the ramparts;

I will look to see what He will say to me,

and what answer I am to give to this complaint.

Write down the revelation

and make it plain on tablets

so that a herald may run with it. (NIV)

This passage is clearly about the calling that many feel to write. And yes, I believe this applies to fiction writers, too. The fact that God uses story to reach people is well documented. After all, Jesus himself used parables to get his message across.

Stories are a powerful tool in the hands of a skilled writer and can influence and impact long after the entertainment factor has worn off. Take for instance Frank Peretti's iconic This Present Darkness. It continues to be a spiritual warrior's call to action, even after almost thirty years. (Apparently a revised edition came out in 2003. I still have the original 1980s version...) Authors like C.S. Lewis, Francine Rivers, and others come to mind as weavers of stories that have had a lasting and profound impact on a spiritual level.

I don't presume to lump myself in with such glowing examples, but I have been blessed to receive feedback from readers telling me my work affected them in a positive way. I love to tell stories of redemption and grace based on characters that are less than squeaky clean, but whom God uses anyway. I think people appreciate the fact that God keeps short accounts when we come to faith in Christ. There is hope for everyone - even the most unlikely.

This month we were encouraged to write about 'Faithfulness'. I can't help but think how this applies to us as Christian writers - even those of us that have committed to write for this blog. I am grateful for the men and women who are faithful to post here each month. I know that many of us lead very busy lives and it isn't always easy to find time to write yet another blog post. As well, it takes effort to think of something new to share that is both interesting and relevant. Thanks, too, to our lovely moderator, Glynis Belec, who keeps us on track.

Keep on writing faithfully, my dear friends, both here and in the other things God has laid on your heart. It is a high calling not to be taken lightly.

___________________

Tracy Krauss writes fiction, non-fiction, and stage plays from her home in British Columbia. http://tracykrauss.com

Personal Idols

When was the last time you thought about idols or idolatry? Frankly it’s not something I think about often. Idols and idolatry are relics from another time, place or culture, or are they?

Our trip to Japan this past May brought idols back into focus. They are visible in homes, at national shrines and street corners. 

The Old Testament prophets would frequently rail against the idolatry of the people of Israel. Though God was faithful, His people were not faithful. They were guilty of worshiping idols of silver and gold. It’s quite easy to make a link with our modern pursuit of prosperity. Has that become our god? Perhaps we need a biblical reminder. The Ten Commandments begin with this injunction: “You shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3).

  

What do we worship? What occupies first place in our lives? Where do our thoughts naturally turn? Do they turn to the LORD, or our favorite sports team—to Jesus or today’s hottest celebrity? Jesus commanded us to seek first his kingdom and his righteousness (Matthew 6:33). Is that your first pursuit? Are we faithful to him?

Actually, I think we are skirting the real issue. The real idol—the preeminent idol in today’s western world—is the idol of self. All too often I put myself, my comfort and well-being ahead of everything else, and that includes Jesus and his kingdom. What I want comes first. What God wants will just have to jockey for attention along with all the other demands upon my life. If I’m brutally honest, most often, that’s how I run my life. How about you?

Do we have a problem with idolatry? Absolutely! And we are too deceived to recognize it. The god we bow down to is the god of self and our self-will, rather than our Creator and Redeemer.   

Response:

LORD God, forgive me for my putting myself, my interests, my comforts and pleasures ahead of you. Help me tear down my idol to self. I want to be faithful—fully faithful to you. Amen.

http://www.davidkitz.ca/

Spying on the neighbours - Kathleen Gibson

A pair of Bushnell 7 X 15 X 35 binoculars hangs ready for quick use at our house - the better to spy on our avian neighbours. They don’t seem to mind the paparazzi, and appear oblivious to our inspection. (Then again, perhaps they’re watching us.)

One year a robin pair built their nest in the maple tree outside our living room window. I peered in often as the birds raised their three nestlings. 

In his role as fly-in provider, the male robin regularly coaxed his mate up to the edge of the nest in order to move closer and feed the chicks. His mate supervised - seemingly glad for the break.

The nest, an almost weightless, neatly swirled circle of grasses, rested in a crotch of bark two limbs up, about ten feet off the ground. I worried plenty about it during the series of severe storms that battered our area. An umbrella of leaves offers little protection, I thought.

During the worst of those storms, one that even threatened human life, I grabbed the binoculars and sat down in front of the window - to add a little watching to my worrying. There sat Mrs. Robin, stone-still, wings spread wide over her offspring. Drenched to her pinfeathers, her beak ran water-droplets like a leaky faucet. But when the wind lifted the nest almost at a right angle to the tree, she clung tight.

Every so often, the gale seemed to pause for an intake of breath before its next big gust. In those moments, in darted the sodden male, bearing take-out. To my astonishment, he first fed his mate. She ate, then lifted herself off the nest just high enough for the chicks to thrust their gaping mouths out from under her wings.

The deluge that accompanied that storm chased over a hundred people from homes nearby. Many of those homes were irreparably damaged, and later condemned. Yet the small circle of grasses in the maple outside our window remained intact, and so did the little family.

I'll never forget their song after the storm subsided -- clear and sweet, it soared to me, even through the glass.

These are difficult times to keep a home together. Marriages have never before collapsed at the present rate. Battered by sundry storms, partners flee commitment, sacrificing future joy for present relief or passing pleasures. I grieve the brittle spirits, the inevitable from-bad-to-worse years, the wounds festering in the bewildered hearts of children.

My parents, 90 and 95, celebrated their sixty-second anniversary last week. They remind me of the robins after that storm. Bedraggled, weather-beaten and weary. They’ve held hard to Jesus, fought storms together and survived formidable enemy attacks. They even survived raising me. But they have survived, and so have their values, reflected in each of their children's lives.

If I’ve learned anything from the Robin family, it’s this prayer, "Oh, Lord, give us robin-spirits. Our neighbours are watching."

*~*~*~*~*~

From the archives of Sunny Side Up.

Sunny Side Up has been published weekly since 2001, and runs in various Western newspapers. 

Find author, columnist and broadcaster Kathleen Gibson on the web at www.kathleengibson.ca

 

What is Real?/MANN

It is no secret that home and hearth is close to one’s heart. Doug and I have just returned from travelling east to Nova Scotia. Regardless of the many resources I packed, countless times in the beginning I thought of checking something on that top shelf at home, or thinking about a writing deadline, or wondering if I’d returned that last call left on the answering machine.

It’s usually very difficult for me to turn off one lifestyle and switch to another but after a few days; I managed to surrender to reading, knitting, writing long hand while sitting in the RV passenger seat. I think the only consistent action was the sound “AWH” in response to Canada’s kaleidoscope of scenery.

Always on a trip, I hope to experience something that I haven’t done before. It was no different this time. When I was invited to go searching for Sea-glass – I readily accepted. Walking along the shore of North Sydney, N.S., it was not difficult to spot the odd green and blue pieces. The white ones were easier to see among the many pebbles. Over a period of an hour, I had gathered a lovely collection of a variety of colours. I was so proud of myself and even as I walked I had visions of covering a patio table with my precious little pieces of glass to look like stained glass.

“This one isn’t Sea-glass,” my daughter said.

“Oh! Are you sure?” I asked.

“That’s a stone,” she said.

“Well, it looks like Sea-glass to me.” I turned it over. “I’m going to use it with the rest. It’s pretty.”

“It’ll look different,” she warned.

I knew she was right, yet I also knew that the rich brown colour of the ‘so-called’ Sea-glass would look splendid in the midst of the brilliant greens, blues and whites of the true Sea-glass.

I conceded of course, wanting to have a true reflection of my evening’s search for Sea-glass. Later as I washed the small pieces they seemed to blink in their brilliance that my choice was a good one.

In hindsight, I wonder how many times we blend the real with the imaginary just to get the results that we want. Maybe a little piece of phoney glass in a collection isn’t as easily seen as an action or behaviour that is not the real thing. I suppose there in lies the grace of God to help us see the truth of our errors.

Furthermore, I think my little pieces of beautiful glass truly represent how waste and brokenness can be transformed into brilliance and goodness. A little like the times that we let ourselves or God, down, yet through God’s grace and mercy, we continue to shine through our life. , , although we know there’ll still be the odd stone among our gems.

A friend teased that one of the little pieces was probably a piece of china from the Titanic. Could be, I thought. Certainly gave me pause to think . . . a little more about all of this. However, I take the bottle of Sea-glass home with me and put it on the shelf to remind me of a precious experience.

Blessings,
Donna Mann
http://www.donnamann.org/

Exploring The Question: MANN

Having just finished my first full year of retirement, I sigh in relief. Thirty years of ministry gave me experiences that I couldn’t have had elsewhere. For this, I am very thankful. From prison cell to hospital bed; family home to nursing care; violence to peace-making; ball field to quilting bee; sanctuary to hockey game; mainline to charismatic to evangelical to Quaker-silence – you name it, I was probably there, learning to reflect God’s love enough to make a difference. I learned well about John Wesley’s prevenient preparing or going before, grace. Yes, God was there even before I arrived – what a confidence.

Like many parishioners, ministers like to explore their faith. Keeping this in mind during this past year, I’ve been even more aware of God’s grace as I attempted to search for new questions that didn’t seem to have place in everyday ordinary church life – if there is such a space. This has proven different from the predictable voice that proves to be safe.

Christendom often falls into the trap of echoing each other’s perspective or cloning a secure and established expression of faith or experience of the Spirit. This past year I asked questions, sat in circles and listened to wise teachers where questions were explored more than answers needed. I discovered different responses where a year or so ago, I would have quipped the answers or replies people would have expected to hear.

Thinking outside the box has been a risk on my part, as those who know me would expect particular expectations of word, attitude and action. It has been as profound as my early years of seminary and equal to those earth-shaking bible studies where people responded from the edge of their faith rather than the predictable center.

I recently read a faith statement on a church’s website that was pure gospel; however, they were courageous enough to state, “This is wonderfully true . . . but it doesn’t say enough. Not nearly enough.” I suspect this would leave the church hungry for more. It was an invitation to go deeper. Katherine Marshall’s book, “Something more” back in the mid 70s started me on a particular search. I remember reading it and saying, “Yes!” Now I ask: “Does anything ever say enough?” Is there not always “more” to understand and to experience? And are we willing to explore questions without needing tried and true answers?

I suppose it is this ‘more’ into which I’ve stepped. Perhaps it’s even in that part of the faith journey where many congregations hesitate to go and if ministers want to explore, they sometimes have to go alone. Well, not quite alone, as they can always count on God’s prevenient grace of preparing and going before: knowing God is present and might be a lonely dimension of faith . . . results in a holy dance.

http://www.donnamann.org
Aggie’s Dream: Launching September 30th at Owen Sound Collegiate Vocational Institute. The sequel to Aggie’s Storms (The Word Guild Award: 2008)

Musings - Smith Meyer

WRITE! Canada 2010 has happened--and it happened without me. Each year since I first went, it has been an important event every June. While I always return bodily tired, my mind and my enthusiasm are renewed and invigorated. Of course that exhaustion is partly due to not wanting to miss anything, staying up for the night owl sessions and rising for the early bird or prayer sessions.

Although my publisher again entered my latest book in the contest for an award, this year because of events in my life, I decided I couldn't attend. My mind didn't listen though and from Thursday to Saturday I was conscious of what I was missing.

Then today, four days after the close of the conference, the TWG letter containing the judge's evaluation and remarks came in the mail. I debated if I really wanted to know what it said, but curiosity won out and I tore it open. After several years of work, editing and redoing, testing it out on children of the ages I had mentioned (with good response) having positive affirmation from the publisher, my writing group and from people who have purchased the book, the judge's feedback didn't reflect any of that. On a scale of one to five, the categories were marked. 2,3,3,3,4,1,2,2,5,3. Was it disappointing? Yes, but not devastating.

Again, I was thankful for what I have learned at WRITE! Canada and in my writer's group. We all differ in our likes and dislikes--even fellow writers and the honourable judge. The very thing one person finds the most intriguing or heart-warming just doesn't do it for another. What charms one reader makes it hard for another to connect.

We need to seriously weigh what the "experts" say, put tu use those suggestions that feel right to you the author and then extend to yourself the grace to trust in your own intuition as well. It is helpful if there are additional judges (and I would recommend that) so that the picture is more complete, but each critique deserves our full attention.

Is it nice to capture a few awards? Yes, I think that can be very satisfying. Is it nice to Wow your judge? I surmise it may be. However, as Tammy Wiens says, "I have found that I've gotten so caught up in trying to please the industry at times that I've forgotten my audience. In the end, they are the ones who buy my books and let me know if they are good or not--not editors or publishers."

My biggest and best award comes from the people who have been helped in facing their own challenges by reading my books. If I have brought understanding, growth or comfort to even a few readers, then my writing has not been in vain. Instead of a sticker on the front cover proclaiming my book to be a finalist or award winning book, there is a warm spot in my heart, knowing God has used my efforts to bring help, healing, or even enjoyment to my fellow travellers in life.