The Heat Goes On--Carolyn R. Wilker

No, not the beat. It’s the heat. Not so long ago we waited for the heat to come. Now we’ve got it in spades. The ground is dry again, the grass is dead, but thank goodness for the rain we had that filled our water barrels and soaked the ground. Our garden plants stood up taller and had a great growth spurt afterwards. It’s as though they were saying "thank you." Even the drought tolerant flowers were showing signs of stress stood up taller.

garden after the good rainfall

  

We could use another good rain shower for the crops and gardens. Then people wanting to picnic and have outdoor events might holler, "No, we want sunshine!" or "Couldn't it come at night instead?" There’s no pleasing us humans. Some like it hot, some like it cold, some like it … in between, like me.

 

 granddaughter watering the garden, 2017

 

a good cold drink in the heat

We can be picky, or maybe it’s particular. Many times we just complain, but it seems God is used to that. He’s heard it before—centuries of it. One most notable being the philosopher in Ecclesiastes who felt nothing was right. People worked hard and got nothing for it. He wrote, “the streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full" (v7a), "all things are wearisome, more than one can say" (v 8a). He declares that everything is meaningless (v. 2)  with no new things under the sun. People reading the philosopher now might think he’s a pessimist. Maybe when he wrote it, he was having a bad day, just like us.

Does he change his mournful tune though? By Chapter 3, it seems he is resigned to life as it is, for he declares happy with the sad, though the sad in most lines comes first, "a time to weep and a time to laugh" (v 4),"a time to tear down and a time to mend" (7a). Then wonder of wonders, despite all the trials, he declares that God has set eternity in the human heart. There’s a sign of hope there.

We, too, have hope because God doesn’t give up on us, even when we’re not sure where we stand. As with the philosopher, we have times where things are not so glum, and we accept 'what is' about life and go on. Then there’s the garden, that when we tend it and take care of it, offers up food for our use and sustenance. That, too, is a gift.

 Carolyn Wilker is an author, editor and storyteller from southwestern Ontario. She gardens and loves to spend time with her family.

https://www.carolynwilker.ca/

Dr Livingstone I Presume - HIRD

By Rev Dr Ed and Janice Hird

While recently teaching on marriage in East Africa to tens of thousands, we asked many Africans what they thought about Dr David Livingstone. It was encouraging to learn how fondly he is remembered in Africa. Some other westerners may have come to exploit, but Livingstone came to bless and set free people free from their chains.  Livingstone prayed: “God, send me anywhere, only go with me. Lay any burden on me, only sustain me, and sever any tie in my heart except the tie that binds mine to yours.”

Dr Livingstone was one of the world’s greatest medical missionaries, explorers and abolitionists. He originally trained as a doctor in order to reach China with the gospel.  When that door closed because of the opium wars, God opened another door to Africa, starting in Cape Town. Having received the Royal Geographic Society’s highest golden medal, Livingstone lived in an era where no occupation was more admired than that of an African explorer. It had the mystique of a modern-day astronaut boldly going into unchartered territory. Travelling, said Livingstone, made one more self-reliant and confident. He only wanted companions who would go where there were no roads. His books were bestsellers and his lectures standing room only. Crowds mobbed him in the streets and even in church. One poll showed that only Queen Victoria was more popular than the beloved Livingstone.

Many chiefs heard through Livingstone for the very first time of Jesus’ amazing love.  One chief Sekelutu was drawn to Livingstone, but afraid to read the bible in case it might change his heart and make him content with just one wife. 

Livingstone literally filled in the map of Africa, exploring all of its main rivers, covering 29,000 miles, greater than the circumference of the earth. One of his most famous discoveries was the Victoria Falls, named after Queen Victoria, on the Zambezi river.  During his extensive travels, he suffered over twenty-seven times from attacks of malaria, being reduced at one point to ‘a mere skeleton’.  His dear wife Mary tragically died from malaria while traveling with her husband in Mozambique.

Livingstone had been lost for five years in Africa and presumed dead by many. An American journalist Morton Stanley was sent by the New York Herald in 1871 to Africa to rescue Livingstone. 236 days later, after a seemingly hopeless search, Stanley found him, uttering the immortal words “Dr Livingstone, I Presume.” His discovery was voted the greatest 19th century newspaper story. Stanley called Livingstone “...an embodiment of warm good fellowship, of everything that is noble and right, of sound common sense, of everything practical and right/minded...”  Speaking to the 57 men carrying supplies to Livingstone, Stanley said: “He is a good man and has a kind heart. He is different from me; he will not beat you as I have done.” Queen Victoria went out of her way to thank Stanley for discovering Livingstone, said that she had been very anxious about his safety.

Livingstone called the Slave trade the open sore of the world, believing that opening up trade routes would eliminate the Slave trade. His on-location report of 400 slaves massacred by slave traders at Nyangwe was key in ending the slave trade. He mistakenly thought that discovering the source of the Nile would open up trade routes for Africans, ending their dependence on the slave trade.

Livingstone was passionate about the Kingdom, praying:  “I place no value in anything that I may possess except in relation to the Kingdom of Christ. I shall promote the glory of Him to whom I owe all my hopes in time and eternity.” Though his body was buried at Westminster Abbey in London, his heart was buried in Africa, because his heart was full of Jesus’ love for the African people.  My prayer is that we too in Canada may have Jesus’ heart of love for Africa.

Rev. Dr. Ed and Janice Hird, co-author of For Better, For Worse: discovering the keysto a lasting relationship.

 -An article for the July 2018 Light Magazine

A Time to Dance by Rose McCormick Brandon

 There's a time to dance. Ecclesiastes 3:4

Laughter and dance go together. The author's father and grandmother.

In an early memory, I’m resting my sleepy head on my grandmother’s knee at the Saturday night community dance. The strains of a kick-up-your-heels reel fills the community center. Grandma sat out most of the jigs, promenades and square dances because her partner, my grandfather, was the band’s fiddler. He played with vigor, bouncing the bow over the strings, his high-trousered belly jiggling as his rhythmic boot thumped the wooden floor. His longish silver hair, wet with perspiration flowed over his brow, skimming the rosy wood of his treasured instrument. 

Dancing, and the music that accompanies it, always warms my insides. My parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins all love to dance. Laughter and dance go together. No one has trouble finding a dance partner at our family weddings. 

One day, in the late stages of pregnancy, after my husband and little daughter left for work and school, I lowered my bulky body onto the sofa hoping our pre-schooler would entertain himself while I rested.  

The author's parents. 

“Mom, Mom, would you like to dance?” Carson had slipped his miniature tweed suit jacket over his yellow pyjamas. The vinyl-coated feet of the pyjamas flapped over the edges of his church shoes. He was dressed for an occasion. 

That day, I didn’t feel like dancing. 

What if tomorrow dancing with Mother should bore him? And a younger, prettier girl take your place? 

I gathered the hem of my fuzzy pink housecoat, planted my moppy slippers on the toy-strewn carpet. With the prince’s small hand resting on my large waistline, our mis-matched bodies shuffled and swayed amongst trains and Tonkas, keeping time to the music. 

The author's maternal grandmother dancing

with her son. 

After a few minutes he announced, “That’s enough!” His road-building business was calling. It was enough, enough to raise me from a lazy couch, into the shower, fresh clothing and make-up. 

When is it time to dance? Always. Because dancing lifts the spirits and fills the mind with good thoughts. 

Lord let me not forget that you planted rhythm in my soul and that I am meant to dance.

***

Rose is the author of four books - Promises of Home – Stories of Canada’s British Home Children, One Good Word Makes all the Difference, He Loves Me Not He Loves Me (with Sandra Nunn) and Vanished (with Shirley Brown) – plus dozens of personal experience pieces, devotionals, short stories and essays. Rose’s work has won awards in the personal experience and short essay categories. Her story, Manitoulin Connections, was published in Chicken Soup for the Soul, O Canada. A member of The Word Guild and The Manitoulin Writers Circle, Rose publishes two blogs: Listening to my Hair Grow (faith writings) and Promises of Home (stories of child immigrants). Rose and husband, Doug, summer on Manitoulin Island where her pioneer ancestors settled and the home of his favourite fishing holes. The rest of the year, they live in Caledonia, Ontario, near their three children and two grandchildren. 

"Outdoor Wedding Wisdom" - Peter A. Black

I hope you and your loved ones enjoyed a safe and pleasant Canada Day celebration. My wife and I did. However, instead of writing about that, I’ve chosen to write about a family wedding, in which our oldest grandson and his fiancée were the bride and groom. 

(And yet, it’s not so much about them, but . . .)

This was the eve of what was to be a fairy-tale open-air wedding, set against the backdrop of shimmering sunlight over blue water, under an azure sky. More than one hundred chairs, set up in a series of orderly formations facing a handsome gazebo, awaited the arrival of the bride and groom and all involved in the wedding party for the rehearsal.

Gazebo: Bogey's Inn by St. Clair River, Ont. Photo: mrmblack

In the meantime, inside the banquet hall, several ladies (my wife and mothers of the bride and groom, among them) hurriedly steamed and ironed scores of white chair-back covers, plus some table covers. Other friends and families worked on decorations and table places, centre pieces and setting up a sound system. The rehearsal went beautifully, and eventually all found their way respectively to their motel rooms and homes.

The big day dawned, breaking and waking us all with angry skies, lightning bolts, thunderous claps and torrential rain. Phone calls and text messages zipped throughout the region that the venue for the ceremony was being moved to the church sanctuary in Corunna. During the hours between morning and afternoon, the storm passed through and the weather completely turned around. 

A number of guests and family folks gave retrospective sighs of relief that we’d been able to gather in an air-conditioned sanctuary instead of sitting outside under a blazing sun in high humidity. And then later, it was everyone back to the waterside venue for the reception. The adjacent banquet facilities were also

air-conditioned.

It was a marvellous event. The wisdom of having forethought and making back-up arrangements in event of inclement weather became fully evident, as circumstances proved.

Mitch and Ally: A couple in love with Jesus

Much goes into planning an event such as this. Surely much should also go into planning a life, and end of life, too! 

Estate planning is becoming a big thing in our culture, nowadays; pre-arranged and prepaid funerals too, and it is a good way to go, if at all possible. 

Not all people marry, but all people die.

 

Credit: iStockphoto; googlefree

How well do we prepare for that? Life is neither a bowl of cherries nor all sunshine and ice-cream sundaes. Storms of life inevitably come, and one day they will be over. The Scriptures speak starkly, telling us that people are “destined to die once, and after that to face judgement.”* That’s a pretty heavy cloud, I’d say.

Nevertheless, God can give us the wisdom to prepare for life beyond this life, through our trusting in Jesus Christ His Son’s sacrificial death and blood shed on the cross: “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”**

~~~

*Hebrews 9:27; Romans 6:23. **

~~+~~

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. ~~+~~

Comforting Warmth or Fiery Heat by Eleanor Shepherd

           Women who came from a variety of cultural backgrounds and languages met together and talked about heat and warmth. If the mother tongue was English and the speaker was a unilingual French person, a neighbour would translate and vice versa. The setting was a workshop about my book  More Questions than Answers, Sharing Faith by Listening. Opening questions, suggested by a friend focused on heat and warmth. 

            The first question asked how your home was heated when you were growing up. Some of us were old enough to remember the days when the coal truck came and delivered a cellar-full of coal that was shovelled into the furnace every evening to keep the house warm during the night. Others had no idea how their home was heated when they were growing up.  They did however recall large metal, coiled radiators often located under windows, that emanated heat. There were some who grew up in countries where there was more concern about keeping cool than enough heat. Their goal was to reduce the amount of heat in the home.  

            The second question was who or what was the centre of warmth in the home. The answer to this was often a mother or grandmother. I felt so sad when one of the women admitted that she had no centre of warmth when she was growing up. She had been orphaned and those who were raising her were fulfilling a duty that included no sense of warmth. Places of warmth mentioned were closely tied to emotional warmth. One of them was the kitchen where the mother’s presence drew others to be with her. The other was the dining-room table where the family gathered and sharing their lives. 

            During this workshop, one of the options at a women’s retreat, included women who slowly opened up and shared methods and places of warmth, and were quite ready with responses to my next question. When did God become more to you that an idea or concept? The women vied with one another to share their stories of coming to know who God was for them. Admittedly, most of the women attending this retreat were already people of faith, but I was still amazed to hear how they had come to faith and how passionate they were about their faith and how they welcomed the stories of each other. 

            A few days later, I reflected on all this when I encountered a contrasting experience. Instead of warmth, I felt heat – the heat of anger. I realized that just as physical warmth and heat can have quite different results for us, so can emotional warmth and heat.  

            We need warmth, both physical and emotional to maintain our equilibrium. Although heat may be comforting, danger arises when it gets out of control. Physical heat will burn our bodies if it rises above a certain level and will destroy our flesh. Emotional heat can also damage us when it burns in anger or uncontrolled passions. 

            Ironically, when I was growing up, in the church there often seemed to be an emphasis on what we called a “turn or burn” approach to evangelism. Christian evangelism often consisted in warning people that they were sinners. If they did not repent, they would end up burning in the eternal fires of hell. The trouble with this approach is that it short-circuits the truths of Scripture that teach us of a God who is love and does not desire to destroy. Preoccupation with Hell fire blinds people to the God of love. 

            Over time we in the church seem to have swung to another extreme. We appear cold and exclusive, not welcoming anyone who is unable to subscribe to the clearly defined tenets of our faith. The fire has gone away and so has the warmth. 

            Opening the Bible and looking carefully at the life of Jesus Christ, we find Someone who exemplifies warmth to those who most seem to need it. Even when He speaks out with the fire of truth to those who reject the warmth he offers, the fire is under the control of divine love. That love is the key to creating warmth and avoiding fiery heat and He offers it unconditionally to us.  

Word Guild Awards
2009

 

Word Guild Awards
2011

Word Guild Award
2018