The past walks with the present ... by Jocelyn Faire

 

 

... because the past walks with us in the present in more ways than we know. ~ Brian McLaren

     I feel I've had more than enough life defining moments. The most heart-and-soul wrenching  moment was to stand between the caskets of my son and my daughter being lowered ... trying to convince myself that “we do not grieve as those who have no hope.” I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that life was never ever going to be back to anything I had ever dreamed, imagined, expected, or wished for. On an icy highway, life had been irreparably altered, changing forever the road I now walked upon. For nearly a decade that followed, the ongoing barrage of life defining moments dizzied me, while my prayers could not give voice to the aching depths or questions of my heart. Looking back now, it feels like watching my life as a movie scene. 

But  .... 

And this is the moment of big buts; in those life altering events we are held and supported by God in powerful ways. Those defining moments birth further moments in the successive days, months and even years that all play back to that big defining moment. Because as Brian McLaren says, the past walks with us in the present in more ways than we know. That past moment is ever present.

This month's question felt significant; partly, because I know I've faced life defining events, and because the successive defining moments all had a kind of glue that kept that event impacting forward. My mother once asked me ... “Jocelyn, do you think you would've gotten divorced if the accident hadn't happened?” No. Would I have moved to Australia without knowing a soul down under? Would I have written a book or two? No, No. Neither of those. Would I have adopted a drug addict as my surrogate daughter? Would I have retired from nursing early? No. No. Would I have felt emotionally safer being of no fixed address than living in my old hometown where everyone knew the story? No. Would I have felt the need to remove myself from church groups because some of those pat answers were too shallow? Would I now be traveling with (and married to) the doctor I used to work with? ... another big No. There are a thousand No's ... But, an equal number of YES's that have stemmed from that one big bang!

There are a lot of clichés and verses thrown about in regards to the value and benefit of suffering change. We are often encouraged to just trust the process and the God behind it ... to let the change change us, to make the best of it ... These are more easily said from those witnessing someone in tumultuous times, and often a very well meaning friend tosses in a reminder that “all things work together for good, to those that love the Lord,” overlooking the immense pain of past trauma. I continue to learn this. Sometimes I'm successful in identifying that what I over react to is because it links back to a deeper pain within. 

But, to end off more positively, I want to share some things that I have learned: The power of hope is strong; humans have a resilience that I would not have dreamed possible for myself; God walks alongside us in the worst of times. God's question that kept coming back to me was, “Will you trust me?” Will I trust you? And God, how can you expect me to trust you after what happened? Each time I stepped in that direction, it felt as though things worsened. Will I trust you? My answer had to be Yes, because the alternative was even worse. 

And now, almost seventeen years later, when I am asked if I will trust, (the question keeps coming up, because life continues) ...  I hesitate less and say, yes, I will trust you.  Each defining moment carries opportunity for a defining response ... and this filters down to the most ordinary of days. Each day holds an opportunity to live life as holy, to reclaim the power of my identity as a much loved child of God, and to make sense of the world. The control I once wanted has gone by the wayside ... and this brings both a loss and a freedom, when I realize how tenuous that perceived control really is. With less need for control, I allow wisdom and grace to enter.

I want to share the hope that has risen from the defining moment ... that life can be experienced as beautiful again, that the soul can grow larger even in the face of catastrophic loss. And that the comfort and presence of God can be experienced. Blessings to you as you face your defining moments. (If nothing else, you can be relieved that your day doesn't seem nearly as bad now.)

A Prayer for Rest by Jocelyn Faire

  Thou has made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.

Augustine of Hippo

                         

When I signed up for this rest-focused blog, I had something else in mind. This prayer came out of a very busy summer month, catching a nasty cold and preparing for a step-son's wedding.

Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him ...

Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.    

(From Psalm 62 NIV)

A Prayer for Rest:

Dear God,

I'm feeling kind of weary ...

I don't mean to complain, but I need to pour out my heart somewhere ...

I'm tired, weary and heavy laden,

weary of running after things, headlines, new passwords for technology.

Tired of learning new operating systems—can't anything stay the same?

I'm tired of the pressure to perform, the need to be productive,

I'm tired of being tired and feeling past my best before date.

Let me find my rest in thee.

I see exhaustion in so many eyes, drooped shoulders from stress and lack of sleep  

and the struggle to keep on top of things ... do these things really matter that much?

I'm tired of witnessing missionary zeal burn itself out with good deeds

while the darkness closes in.

I'm tired of criticism, cynicism, racism, apathy and the evening news.

I'm tired of Covid, the heat, the smoke, and the forest fires burning,

Is there a soul or tree left unscorched?

Let me find my rest in thee.

I'm tired of overfed bodies, starved souls; because we misread our need.

I'm tired of striving, when I know I should and long to be still.

Weary that there is always more to do, than time for it.

Dear God, I'm tired of grieving, I'm tired of good-byes,

tired of questions and doubts, of wondering if you know what's going on down here.

I'm tired of unanswered prayers and the need to cover for you.

Tired of being told I should be grateful—I know I should be, and I am grateful!

Let me find my rest in thee.

Sometimes I wonder if you know what's going on down here.

Can we sit down and have a good chat?

I'm tired of feeling that I'm in a one-sided conversation in my head.

I don't think I'm alone God ... Did you mean it when you said

we should come to you when we're heavy laden and in need of rest?

If so, why are we struggling to find you and the rest?

The world and your people are in need of a serious sabbatical.

Let us find our rest in thee.

I often think of my daughter and her family, working overseas, seeing her exhaustion; the bone-tired weariness built over years that is helped but not resolved by a vacation. I know there are seasons of weariness, they too shall pass as we are refreshed in spirit.

A response verse to the prayer:

Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?

Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. Psalm 42:11 NIV

It is Good To Be... by Jocelyn Faire

Listen Jacob. Listen Israel—I'm the one who named you! Isaiah 48: 12, The Message 

What's in a Name?

I confess a secret relief when reading Hosea, a relief that I was never born to his wife Gomer ... and never given a name like Lo-Ruhamah, (not loved) or Lo-Ammi, (not my people). I always felt those were harsh names given to children for the sake of the sermon. But a little further in this story, (Hosea 2:23) God declares that He will show love to the one called unloved, and He will say to those not my people, you are my people. 

Throughout the scriptures, it is evident that names carry significance and that names are revisited. I do recall my own pregnant poring over name books in search of the perfect match to bestow upon each child, reflecting desires wished for their lives. One painful thing I know of names: no parent ever wishes to inscribe their child's name on a gravestone. 

In my story of identity crisis, stumbling through grief, divorce and accumulated loss, God spoke powerfully through my renaming in a manner similar to that of Abraham, Sarah and Paul; where it amounted to a spelling change. After a lot of conversation with God, I was given a new name... Changed from Fehr to F-A-I-R-E—Faire, the same pronunciation as my name of the previous 30 years. The beauty of it ... gave me shivers as the words came to me ... FAIRE... the words given by the Spirit ... Faith And Identity Restored Eternally. A holy goose-bump raising moment. My identity as a beloved daughter by her Father was affirmed in this renaming. Identity and how we view ourselves impacts us as we relate to the world.

God continues to be in the business of moving us along in directions we should go. Now that my identity has been restored, I've creatively taken the 'R' to also stand for rest and renew. Just as soil needs rest to renew ... our souls need rest and renewing as well. As I write I feel I should add remember as another important meaning of 'R'. Affirmations need to be remembered in those days when amnesia of faith takes hold of our stressed minds. That is why we write things down, and why we share our stories. Sometimes people will remind us of what we have said, just when we need it most. 

Recently, I've been challenged with a new question related to names/identities.

Is it good to be _______(me)? 

Fill in the blank with your name. Is it good to be you/me? There was a time I wished I was someone else and not the mother of two children in heaven. Now, after life has moved to a better place, I'm back to the usual negative voices in my head ... the ones that tell me, I should do more, be more, be better ... etc. (We're all familiar with those critics lurking in our heads) ... and now I've been challenged to ask—Can I say ... It is good to be Jocelyn Faire? ... and Yes, I can say it. (Because I've been practicing) 

From this affirmation, comes a freedom to move into new growth spaces that I believe the Spirit wants us to move into. As writers we know that we are always telling a story about ourselves, that is how we deal with situations ... and usually our mind wants to immediately categorize our stories (and often our lives) as good or bad ... I've been challenged to let the judgements go, (there are still troubles worldwide) but I want to affirm that it is good to be me. From there I believe I can open my heart further to the fullness of God. I believe as we open our hearts, we live more and more in the fullness of God's goodness, and as we declare and live it, we bring that goodness into other people's lives as well. 

Here's my challenge to you: repeat the line out loud five times, with a different emphasis each time— It is good to be ___. It is good to be____. It is good to be_____. 

It is good to be Jocelyn. It is good to be your name. Sometimes it is just good! 

WANTED: Experienced Cartographer, Attention to Detail Necessary ... by Jocelyn Faire

Set up signposts to mark your trip home. Get a good map. Study the road conditions. The road out is the road back. Come back, dear virgin Israel, come back to your home towns. Jeremiah 31:21 The Msg

Everything in life is much simpler when we are given a detailed map, course outline, or precise instructions to follow. But Life doesn't work that way. It's the twists and turns that develop us. It feels as though I have had a decade of uncharted territory ... actually fourteen years of it ... actually, life is uncharted territory. You would think I would have learned something by now ... and I have.

I have learned that as long as one lives, learning opportunities abound, and I learn best through complications in life.

I have learned that navigating through these uncharted troubles of life requires a great deal of emotional energy. 

I have learned that faith is not the opposite of doubt, faith is acting out our trust.

I have learned that faith is an operation mode that requires practice.

I have learned that we speak ourselves in the direction we want to go.

My recent uncharted territory comes in a unique format. With my marriage of two years, I inherited nine grandchildren, these nine children come as Lego parts of three different sets. On the flip side, I am learning how to be the inherited grandmother. For the youngest children, I will be the only remembered grandma. As two-year-old Brynn stated while we drove past a cemetery “Grandma B is in heaven.” Her two sisters told her that she'd never met Grandma B. These little ones have taken to me well, and I to them. But I also carry self-inflicted guilt as my own grandchildren live overseas and I have limited time with them. My mind began a deceptive mathematical withhold love kind of reasoning in order to keep my biological off-spring in first place; as if love invested here would lessen the amount of love left for my grandkids. In the last two years, my writing time has dwindled while my love of life has increased. Much of my writing of the past dozen years, has come from a place of deep pain. And now the resurfacing of joy has surprised me; this is all new territory.

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6 NIV

Afraid of Heights

It was a year ago that I had a nasty tumble while downhill skiing with my husband. The diagnosis was an avulsion fracture, and two torn ligaments of the left knee ... I was one-legged for three months. This year I determined to ski again, my husband was not quite as convinced. But we went, and I must say it was a huge success. I am doing the final edits on this post as we drive away from the mountains. While skiing, I thought of lessons

learned on mountain tops ... this year a new Fear of Heights reared its head. As I pondered this, I equated this to uncharted territory. I have struggled through despair ... in fact in the grief years, I questioned my right to be happy. Sometimes grief becomes a well-worn garment, we grow accustomed to its heaviness. When spring bursts forth, we feel naked without the winter coat, it all seems too sunny.

It would have been reasonable and easy to give up the skiing, given that I now live in the flattest province of the country; yet, I persisted. But when I got off the chair lift ... the rubber hit the road in the form of skis hitting the snow. Two anemic pieces of fibreglass are supposed to take me down a mountain? I had reason to be afraid. It would be easy not to try. What if I would get hurt? But what if I didn't? I'd done the physio.

Some of the same questioning has come to haunt my writing as well ... It would be easy to quit, but what if I succeed? What does success look like? Hundreds of people on the same mountain each with a different goal in mind; some snowboarders do aerials, some blaze down the mountain, some parents strap their kids alongside and traverse together, there were many other grey heads on skis. We studied the ski maps before we jumped on the chair lifts, the difficulty level was colour coded. As we interacted with other skiers, we explained: we ski like grandparents—because we are!

So I have learned that while navigating new territory or ski slopes—get a good map, follow a trusted guide, and cheer one another on along the way.

The Sense of Urgency by Jocelyn Faire

“Once the soul awakens ... you are inflamed with a special longing that will never again let you linger in the lowlands of complacency and partial fulfillment. The eternal makes you urgent.” ~ John O’Donohue, Anam Cara

Motivational forces in life can come as positive or negative. Too often guilt is used, like the sharp and annoying spur designed for horses, in an attempt to move us towards doing the right thing. We can guilt people into behaviour modification, but it does not change us at the heart level, which is where the most effective spurring happens. Spending time in God’s word and in the beauty of nature inspire my appreciation of his goodness and motivate me to share this hope with those in need of some.

Take time to delve into the riches of My residing Presence. I want you to live increasingly from your real Center, where My Love has an eternal grip on you. From Jesus Calling, Sarah Young. (Feb 20th)

How do I spur people on? By conversation and prayer. And I wish I could say I was more consistent. Often when I am in discussion with someone on an urgent matter, I suggest we pray about it. The spirit nudges me and brings to mind people to pray for: those with grief, with cancer, with marriage issues, with difficult children, those in my daughter’s Muslim neighborhood. There is a sense of critical urgency in most of the requests. It is all too easy to get busy with life activities and decrease time spent in prayer. And then I feel guilty, but what I love about God is his open invitation to spend time with him, as a friend. He invites.

What do I want to spur people on to? My husband and I just returned from a medical mission project in Guatemala. He worked on the surgical team, I helped in the hearing clinic. One young man in his late twenties had wanted to come for years, but was always working at the time. This year, he managed to get the time off to come. We tested his hearing level to discover that he had a severe hearing loss. After further testing and fittings, the audiologist provided a special higher end hearing aid for him with just a tiny wire going into his ear. (See if you can spot the wire) When the world of clear sound came to him, his grin reached from ear to hearing aid ear. I felt privileged to help give the gift of hearing to him and many others. These aids-many of them refurbished from Canada-were given at no cost to people who could not afford them. We also provided a year’s supply of batteries. My desire is to help people hear the word of God and experience the hope that God offers free of charge in their lives.

Who spurs me on? I have a dear sister and a sister friend. Twice a year we have our own mini-retreats, where we discuss needs, concerns and pray over what God is doing in our lives. These times of rich deep fellowship, spur me on to live my life in a better more loving and surrendering way. Sometimes the spur is a little sharp, and the nudging does not feel pleasant.

I have also learned much from my daughter in ministry. Many women come to her home to pour their hearts out to her because she provides a safe place to do that. Her kindness and compassion move me to imitate her selflessness. She also sends many urgent prayer requests my way.

The sense of urgency comes because it feels as though time is speeding up. Does anyone else feel this way? When my mother was in her late eighties, I asked her if she felt that time was passing more quickly and she answered yes. This surprised me because in my view she had little to occupy her time. I think she was already focused on things unseen. Yesterday marked her one-year passing. I miss her amazing positivity. She has spurred an optimistic streak in my life.

And then the rubber hits the road:) I’d done some work on this post before we left for Guatemala, knowing we returned at midnight the day before my post was due. I thought perhaps there would be some time for writing while away-who was I fooling? Mainly myself. What I hadn’t counted on was a four-hour delay in our return. It’s cold and snowy on our drive home and all the lofty spiritual thoughts that had swirled in my head under the palm trees seemed to have lost their lift. The sense of urgency takes on a more basic meaning :) And a remembered line drifts through my brain: Never doubt in the dark what God has revealed in the day.

All praise to the God and Father of our Master, Jesus the Messiah! Father of all mercy! God of all healing counsel! He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us. 2 Corinthians 1:3,4 The Message

Taste and See ... by Jocelyn Faire

Would you like fries with that? (Yes)

 Would you like to supersize that? 
(No, well yes)

Taste and see that the Lord is good. Psalm 34:8 NIV

There have been seasons of life dubbed as being in the drive through blessing zone; the times when there were not enough minutes to start the day with that quality devotional. The days I was not even able to go to the bathroom alone without an urgent knock on the door ... please let me have 3 minutes of peace. The days my book shelf housed: Where does A Mother Go to Resign? (Barbara Johnson) Those are the spiritual fast food days when you must pick up inspiration via the drive through ... and I see my daughter in that era now. Those were the days that taught me the importance of continuous communication and prayers with my God. Taste and see that the Lord is abundantly good.

If only she'd eat ...

The voiced concern of a friend's husband as he wonders why his Life Partner of more than forty years cannot eat. The fifteen year cancer battle has ravaged every part of her body, and now she is succumbing. But she has rallied many times; this time I think she will not rally ... She has battled fiercely. She and I had a prayerful conversation two weeks earlier. She said to me, “I just want to go home.” I told her I could understand, she had fought the good fight. "No, I just want to go to my house, I don't like the food here." Truth be told, she hasn't eaten much in the last nine months. Not only has her appetite decreased, her ability to eat has diminished as a result of radiation to her jaw. The words of Second Corinthians come to mind, of outwardly wasting away while being renewed inwardly day by day. The prayers of many are sustaining her and her family. Meanwhile meals are being delivered. There is a lot to be said for food service to families sitting at hospital bedsides. This is part of the comfort care. Taste and see that the Lord is kind.

When I think of comfort foods, I think of tapioca pudding still warm, with added melting chocolate chips, topped with a scoop ofvanilla ice cream. Or a whole grain turkey craisin picnic wrap with dill pickles, plain potato chips and ice cold coke. Or a hearty warm vegetable soup with a thick slice of multigrain bread. Or cinnamon buns and coffee with a friend. It is not just the calories we ingest, it is the context to go along with it. 

Memories are linked to foods and meal times; specific foods recall certain events. Scriptures can also be event or genre specific. I love to page through my Bibles to find numerous hand-written dates/places/events associated with the times the words were most meaningful.

These are a few of my favourite comfort verses ...

*When in need of Hope: You'll know then that I am God. No one who hopes in me ever regrets it. (Isaiah 49:23 MSG) Beside that I have starred* and written I declare, June 2013 this is one of many verses about that hope in God that does not disappoint.

*When I'm feeling down and blue: I rally with Psalm 42:5 (NASB) ... Why are you in despair oh my soul, and why have you become disturbed within me? Hope in God, for I shall again praise him for the help of His presence. This reminds me that while I may feel discouraged at the moment, the feeling will pass, because I will experience His presence again.

*When overwhelmed: Isaiah 41:13 springs to mind. For I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you. With this verse, I have lifted my right hand both in my mind and in reality as I walked into high anxiety scenarios.

*When Life restructures: The walls you're rebuilding are never out of my sight. (Isaiah 49:16MSG) These verses inspired my daughter to create a wedding painting, these words were also used for that wedding in Dec 2016.

If only we would eat ... there are times in life, it seems we cannot eat, those are the times we need to help feed one another. Bring those meals ... a word of comfort alongside a great bowl of soup. Deliver pizza to a family if you can't make food. There are many ways to offer meaningful nourishment both scriptural and edible.

Taste and see that the Lord does Supersize!!  

Sometimes Jocelyn also blogs at: http://whoistalking.wordpress.com  This summer she will be planning nourishing scriptural and edible menus for numerous family events.

 Life and Faith canvas photo, taken at Providence College, artist unknown

My Love Affair With Notebooks ... by Jocelyn Faire

I don't know when it began, or what to do with all of them. The notebooks, the journals of all sizes and shapes—many of them still empty, waiting for the right poem or the new theme, or my most brilliant thoughts. Some of the more unusual journals bought on travels are still waiting. Often I try to have a theme for a journal, so I begin more than one of them, while having an ongoing chronological journal. Meanwhile I use notebooks for a collection of ideas, thoughts and quotes.

Why do I encourage so many people to journal? Is there any benefit in writing down what we go through? A resounding Yes is my answer! I began journalling decades ago, when I was going through what I call the usual ups and downs of life; and even there I always felt the benefit of the process. Writing down thoughts brings clarity to whatever the situation may be. During my grief years, my journals became my lifeline, my prayer line, my place to recharge, my place to question any and everything. Those were the times it was necessary to write in order to make sense of what had gone so terribly wrong (write to right). As I reread my journals I see a woman expressing her longings, her laments while choosing to be grateful for the beauty of life. The historical value of journals is to look back and witness in your own handwriting the evidence of God's hand in it all. Most recently this has been vividly evident as I looked back at my 2016 journal while searching for ideas for this blog. A frequently used verse was from Isaiah 49 in The Message: The walls you're rebuilding are never out of my sight.

On January 1, 2016, my notes say:

A blank page

a new journal opens up before me ... what will be written on these pages?

It's a page turner to be sure

Life is an adventure—a sad one at times, disappointment at end of year brings a weariness to the new year.

I went on to express disappointment that I was not in a better place. A main discouragement was that I had been praying for several years for the possibility of a man in my life. And I was beginning to think that God had answered No, and that I would need to come to terms with it. On the blank page opposite my January first entry, I had later added that my daughter had prayed for me that perhaps this was the year. In June of 2016 I told two very dear friends that I thought I would remain alone for the rest of my life, and that I was actually okay with it. And then on June 10, I wrote “God, I think you're up to something.”

June 19, 2016 there was a profound upbeat tone as I wrote about having lunch with Harold, someone I had known for over 30 years ... someone I had worked with, someone who had also gone through some serious grief. That day I wrote in my journal: Is the something you are up to HB?

I chuckle at times when I see my gift of misinterpretation of scriptures. After this wonderful man and I had been communicating for a while, I had some doubts that were answered in a resounding way. In my journal I quoted Isaiah 43 The Message: Forget about what's happened, don't keep going over old history. Be alert, be present, I'm abut to do something brand new. It's bursting out!! Don't you see it? No, I don't often see it, but I love it when verses jump out with what seems a personal message for me.

The gift of the journals is the documented evidence in my own handwriting of how God is working out the bigger plan in my life. And on a separate lovely note, on December 17, 2016 at my wedding to Harold, we used Isaiah's verses about rebuilding walls from chapter 49. The love affair continues :)

Photo by Joel Krahn

A Broken Hallelujah .... by Jocelyn Faire

A Broken Hallelujah

broken

adjective

2. reduced to fragments; fragmented.

3. ruptured; torn; fractured.

4. not functioning properly; out of working order.

Twelve Years ago for my 50^th birthday my son and his to be fiancee sang a song for me ... Jeff Buckley's version of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. The forty or so birthday celebrants listened in amazement at the gifted guitarist and the strong female voice and the beauty of the words. A week and a half later this same song was sung on a missions trip in a Mexican orphanage at chapel time. That time I had goosebumps on my arms, the crowd was hushed, the electricity was palpable in the air and the audience of a hundred Spanish children and adults joined in with the Hallelujahs.

And ten days later these two singers and his sister were in a car accident that transported them to heaven.

So what does Easter mean to me? It means that even though the world is full of brokenness, the resurrection message is one of HOPE. I have not arrived to where I'd like to be in the journey, but I do not grieve (or live) as those without hope. (1 Thess 4:13)

Hope is searching for signs of spring on a cold April day. Hope is continuing to paint Easter eggs. Hope is staying in touch with a drug addict in Australia. Hope is making soup. Hope types words of comfort. Hope sings a song, says a prayer. And hope needs bolstering on a regular basis. For me, hope (as I think I've blogged before) is Hold On Perspective Eternal. Hope has eyes to see the bigger picture.

Hope is a choice

Hope has given me my voice

to question to doubt, to scream to shout

Hope has been in the midst

as a spark

as a river

a cause to shiver

Hope behind, hope before

Hope surrounds as it opens and shuts the door

The taste of hope

And I want more

More of the source

more of truth

more of the grace it has given.

I want Hope on this earth

And a taste of Heaven.

The resurrection of Easter means that which was broken by death, now moves towards wholeness. It means that I will hear that Hallelujah song again, and in heaven it will not be a broken Hallelujah. It means that while I am on this planet I and many others continue to live with loss. I will always wonder where would my son, my daughter be if they were still alive. Would I be a grandmother for their children? But the hope means that I can also put the pause on this line of questioning in order to see the beauty that has subsequently come into my life. It means that as I share with others in grief, I have hope to share. We may live in a broken world, but the presence of God is everywhere. It is the beauty of the sunset, it is the cry of a newborn baby, it is a flower budding, it is a wedding ring. We have been promised that the same power that raised Christ from the dead is the power that works in us. In Ephesians 1, Paul's prayer is that we could see the utter extravagance of God's work in us who trust him, the endless energy and boundless strength. And oh how I need both the energy and the strength. The cross was a once and done deal, I wish it were that simple to say I have hope, to say I don't grieve ... I am a work in progress, I practice hope daily.

Wholeness: noun the state of forming a complete and harmonious whole; unity. The state of being unbroken or undamaged.

Hope helps me move to wholeness as my Hallelujahs become less broken.

Here's a link to the Hallelujah song: there are many versions of this song, in the first the introduction is a bit long, but it's my favorite.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8AWFf7EAc4 Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qSgsW9GLerA Alexander Burke's -a bit more theatrical

Jocelyn is the author of Who is Talking out of My Head? Grief as an Out of Body Experience

Athletic wear doesn't make one an Athlete! by Jocelyn Faire

Most of the Olympics have passed me by, the summer has been busy, this August long weekend I hosted three sisters, a niece and her three children. My niece used my smart TV to play DVDs for her children … and somehow the settings were not returned to my normal.  And I feel not so smart. Aaaagh … I would come in last for the Olympic technology challenge. 

But what an epic adventure of laughter, and bubbles, and parachute men dropped over the balcony, more laughter and great food for our motley crew between my house and the Canmore, Alberta folk festival. And in it all I was reminded of the Olympic sized challenges that my niece and her ten year old daughter face each day of life.

(In the winner's circle!)

Multitudes of prayers had been spoken for Maya prior to her birth, when her parents were informed that their daughter had a rare syndrome, and would be born with numerous life challenging difficulties. She has had at least 40 surgeries, the first one before she was a week old. She has spent months of her life in hospital, and even now the doctors are waiting for her to grow stronger in order for her scoliosis to be corrected. Many of us have wondered if the Psalm 139 verses about being fearfully and wonderfully knit in her mother's womb have missed the mark. And yet according to her Grandmother, Maya is a girl with a special connection to Jesus. When I had the privilege to tuck the three little ones into bed, Maya asked if she could read from her bible. My heart breaks for this girl who is becoming increasingly aware of how different she is than the others. She will never run any competitive races. She has never had a normal bowel movement, as the colostomy bag takes care of that business for her. In the playground while her 4 year old brother ran up and down the boards three times, Maya carefully placed one hand and then a foot down in order to ascend. I cheered heartily as she reached the top. 

We speak of all the hard work and determination that goes into producing an Olympic athlete. We stand in awe giving credit to those who have laboured intensely. I stood in awe of this little girl and her family carving out some sense of normal in a precarious health balance.

What was heart warming was to hear Maya speak to herself in the mirror, while wearing her Epic T-shirt. She would say "I feel epic" over and over, making all of us smile. It's a great thing to see that when we repeat these words, we do become more epic.  Epic is defined as "heroic or grand in scale or character."  As we speak Olympic sized dreams into place, we become more of what we speak.  May we all feel epic, and help those around us to achieve a sense of epic in their own lives.


Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honour Romans 12:10(ESV)

Social Media Circus … by Jocelyn Faire

Social Media, is like managing a three ring circus.

 

Between the blog, Facebook, tweets, twittering, linking in, linking out, podcasting, Instagram, webinars ... The jugglers throw so many balls in the air, I am kept in constant activity of spinning wheels, needing to add one more hula hoop while maintaining the balance of a tight rope walker. My father used to get anxious watching the trapeze artists fly through the air without a safety net. He thought they should just lock them all up and put them in prison. He did not want to see anyone plunge to their death while he sat on the bleachers with his popcorn. Social media has moved the circus from being a spectator sport to a participatory one

Social media experts say the blog is 20% about what you write and 80% marketing. (Stats vary with site) You may write well, but if the marketing is not put in, few will read what you wrote.

And how can one person manage all the acts? The novice writer is a one man show. Social media appears the way to go.

At a job interview, I was asked if I found large projects overwhelming, and how did I manage them. I cannot remember my exact response ... although I went over it for a few days, kicked myself for not seeing that question coming. My response should have been: “I break big projects down, and do them one step at a time. And I relegate tasks to others as well.”

As a mother I learned to do many tasks, I was chief cook, bottle washer, domestic engineer with a flair, social worker, encourager, therapist, buyer and seller of goods. Who could argue that I have not managed three ring circuses before.

But this business of Social Media seems like another game.

Perhaps I don't have to buy into the whole package. I need to focus on the aspects of what works for me, and be willing to move and grow in the other areas.

I also believe this world needs more genuine communication as opposed to more noise. Social media often adds noise without adding value. In my travels, I have picked up a few foreign language greetings ... that led me to pen the following lines.

Guten Tag, wie geht es dir?

Danke es geht mir gut.

La Bess? Bon Jour,

Konichewa, Salemm alla Kum

And you? How are you?

We learn the greetings by rote

And the answer is all the same

The universal language

of that familiar greeting game.

'How's it going? It's good'

Needn't bother to listen

the answer will be the same

Cover up with pleasantries

Just add a different name

With all the new technology

Everyone can keep in touch

In touch without touching.

A smiley face symbol

And a texted XX

Meant to let someone know you care.

But can we care enough to

hold a hand, give a real hug, pick up the phone?

When the going gets tough

I'll take someone who cares over a

Forwarded message of hope.

Chain letters of encouragement

oft veiled with a threat

if you don't pass it on

something worse to expect

The sea of faces have blurred with despair

All wanting to know, someone does care.

The more time we spend interconnected via a myriad of devices, the less time we have left to develop true friendships in the real world.”
― Alex Morritt, Impromptu Scribe

The traveling circus I grew up with may have moved out of town, but Cirque du Soleil is the Social Media version—great ideas taken to a new level. And many are running away from home to join the circus, while I'm still munching popcorn, like my father. 

Jocelyn blogs at:http://whoistalking.wordpress.com

She is author of Who is Talking Out of My Head- Grief as an

Out of Body Experience

 

The Advent-ure of Love …. by Jocelyn Faire

If, as Herod, we fill our lives with things, and again with things; if we consider ourselves so unimportant that we must fill every moment of our lives with action, when will we have the time to make the long, slow journey across the desert as did the Magi? Or sit and watch the stars as did the shepherds? Or brood over the coming of the child as did Mary? For each one of us, there is a desert to travel. A star to discover. And a being within ourselves to bring to life.  (Anonymous, but quoted by Sarah Ban Breathnach in Simple Abundance)

“What does it feel like to be loved?”

The question is asked of my daughter who lives with her husband and three small children in a N African Islamic country. The lady who poses the question is heavy with her third child. Last December I joined my daughter to invite neighbours to attend a Ladies event to experience the flavour of a Canadian Christmas. In that country they do not celebrate December 25th, they do not get caught up in ribbons and bows, in getting the right turkey, the right gifts … they do that for other cultural events. As we spread the word about the party, one of the ladies said “everyone wants to be at her house.” It is a house of welcome, a safe house of light and love. This year, I could not be there and encouraged my daughter in whatever way I

could, mainly prayer from wintery Canada. She is eight hours ahead, so it was early Friday afternoon that the first details came through: “a house full of women, rich conversation, laughter, fun, food.” Via WhatsApp she said “And one pregnant woman who did not have the two dinars (about a dollar) for a taxi ride, walked seven kilometres to come.”  I was moved to tears as I read. That woman walked seven kms because she felt loved and accepted by my daughter. My daughter does not preach, she invests herself into their lives … she cares, she also gives this woman a ride home.

What does it feel like to be loved? Three weeks ago, I heard a fable by Max Lucado. This is now my retelling of his telling … As the prince rode throughout the land, he took note of a peasant woman, he fell in love with her … he proposed marriage. She wanted to refuse … how could he love her, he lived in a castle, she was just a common woman. He insisted that He loved her for who she was, and he wanted to marry her. She still responded in doubt, but as he seemed quite persistent, she said,  she could cook and clean for him, and bear his children … He said, “I do not want you because you can cook and clean, and bear children. I want you to be my wife because I love you” …. They married; she cooked and cleaned and bore his children, but somehow she never trusted his love. In the end she left him, and said to one of her friends, “I never really felt that he loved me.”  

Something stirred my heart at this story, as I have often wondered if God, who says He is

love, could love me? What does it feel like to be loved by the creator of the universe? I have learned that grief does not feel like love …. but the question hangs in the air. Do actions speak louder than words? I do believe that Christmas is Love in Action.

How will I spend the final advent hours? May I take time to feel the desert wind, to gaze at a star and to ponder the birth of new understanding. The final word is Immanuel, God with us, through each season of life, through the longing and the filling, in the journey through the desert. 

Why settle for tinsel, when we are offered the kingdom? 

Read about The Advent-ures of Hope, Joy, Peace on Jocelyn's blog at:

http://whoistalking.wordpress.com

Jocelyn is the author of Who is Talking out of My Head-Grief as an out of Body Experience. 

candle image by www.drew-fuller.com

A Room to Remember -- Jocelyn Faire

The work to forget, can be as difficult as the trying to remember.

“The time is ripe for looking back over the day, the week, the year, and trying to figure out where we have come from and where we are going to, for sifting through the things we have done and the things we have left undone for a clue to who we are and who, for better or worse, we are becoming. But again and again we avoid the long thoughts….We cling to the present out of wariness of the past. And why not, after all? We get confused. We need such escape as we can find. But there is a deeper need yet, I think, and that is the need—not all the time, surely, but from time to time—to enter that still room within us all where the past lives on as a part of the present, where the dead are alive again, where we are most alive ourselves to turnings and to where our journeys have brought us. The name of the room is Remember—the room where with patience, with charity, with quietness of heart, we remember consciously to remember the lives we have lived.”

― Frederick Buechner, A Room Called Remember: Uncollected Pieces

My mother of ninety-one lives in the room to remember. She may not remember what she had for lunch, but, start her on a memory lane conversation and she can tell you how the fly ball felt as it smacked into her bare hands to clinch the game. She was the heroine of her country school ball tournament that day! Of the days of her drinking husband, she says: Those were hard times, but we got through them.

She has a selective memory. Memory can be revisited with rose coloured glasses.

We write things down so we will remember them. As I re-read my journals I am taken back to some powerful aha moments, when God answered my doubting heart with scripture, song a quotable word or visit from a friend. When I read these raw accounts of grief's darkness I feel both the pain and the hope. I relive the assurance that He has been there in those difficult days, surely He will be here today. When I read the joy filled words, my heart marvels in the memory.

The past and future collide into this moment of today, this present, which is exactly that - a present moment, a gift to be opened and deeply appreciated. I want to live my life in such a way, that when I am my mother's age, my room to remember will be positively full. These journals bear witness to His encouragement.

It seems easier to remember the negative, mulling it over and over, than to remember the positive. There is a daily battle for joy going on here, and one of my renewable resources is to have positive words of encouragement posted in all rooms to remind me that life is beautiful, and I am part of that beauty. 
I used to joke that I needed to wear a name tag, so I would not forget who I was. That is closer to the truth than I admit—too often I forget who I am, and who my true Father is. Today I want each of us to remember that we are loved, our lives and our writing has been purposed, and there is much beauty in this world.
Remember who you are serving!!

Daily we choose the room we spend our time in, and we choose to let the Son-shine in.

Ps 103:14 He remembers that we are made of dust. This reminds me, as does Buechner in his quote, that we should enter these rooms of remembrance with kindness (for ourselves) and with quietness of heart and mind.

Image from Global leadership quotes- quotesgram.com

Jocelyn is the Author of Who is Talking out Of My Head, Grief as an out of Body Experience.  She blogs at:http://whoistalking.wordpress.com