Love in the Face of Death ~ Valerie Ronald

He held my hand, the one without the IV attached to it, warming it in his big, gentle palms. I was the only chemotherapy patient receiving treatment in the small room, so we could speak and act freely. I shivered, so he brought me a blanket. When I wept he did not turn away, waiting in caring silence. 

“Why are you here?” I asked him through my tears.

“Because I love you and want to be with you through whatever comes.”

“I don’t understand. You could choose from any number of healthy women with a normal life expectancy. I have cancer. Why take the chance of marrying me when I could be gone within the year?”

He smiled.

“I don’t think I am taking a chance. We know God is in this so why would it be taking a chance to be together, for as long or as little time as He gives us?” 

I shook my head in wonder at such love.


When we first met, I told Garth about my recent diagnosis of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. The survival rate stood at 40 to 50 percent at that time. It was important that I be transparent from the start so if it was too much for him, he could bow out. After a divorce, he spent six years raising his children before considering remarriage. I seemed a poor choice for a wife in light of my prognosis, however, with God writing this story, His choice became clear. I soon realized that God had gifted this man with an altruistic character, and I was the beneficiary of it.

Our wedding took place in between my chemotherapy treatments. In spite of weakness and fatigue, joy gave me the energy to enjoy our celebration to its fullest. That day happened 20 years ago, 19 of which I have been in remission from lymphoma. I tell Garth often that he is essential to my well-being. His cherishing love and care are key elements to my ongoing good health. My husband’s selfless love in the face of death speaks volumes to me about its true nature. It is a beautiful picture of Christ’s sacrificial love.

The apostle Paul exhorts husbands to love their wives so deeply, purely and sacrificially that it can only be understood when compared to the love Christ has for His bride, the church. A husband should care for his wife as if his life depended on it, the same way he cares for his own body, loving and protecting his wife as if she were his very heart. (Eph. 5:25-33)  

Every day I experience the love of Christ through the love of my husband. Having escaped a previous marriage scarred by emotional abuse and neglect, I thank God for how He has redeemed those painful years by gifting me with a marriage as He designed it to be. To take for granted the myriad of small acts of love my husband does for me throughout each day would be to miss the greater reason behind them, his love for Jesus.  

Love is large and incredibly patient. Love is gentle and consistently kind to all. It refuses to be jealous when blessing comes to someone else. Love does not brag about one’s achievements nor inflate its own importance. Love does not traffic in shame and disrespect, nor selfishly seek its own honor. Love is not easily irritated or quick to take offense. Love joyfully celebrates honesty and finds no delight in what is wrong. Love is a safe place of shelter, for it never stops believing the best for others. Love never takes failure as defeat, for it never gives up. Love never stops loving. (1 Cor. 13: 4-8 Passion Translation)  

  

 

 The high calling of love as described in 1 Corinthians 13, is not achievable unless Christ loves through us. My husband and I are not perfect at loving well. We are frail humans, prone to wander, to focus on ourselves, and to react poorly. Daily we ask God to fill us with His Spirit so we can be channels for His love to flow through us, first to each other, then to others.

When Garth was praying about re-marrying, a friend asked him what he was looking for in a wife. He said, “A woman who loves the Lord and a partner to help in the ministry He’s given me.” The friend replied, “Perhaps you are to be a partner to help in the ministry the Lord has given her.”  

Garth’s encouragement and belief in the calling of God on my life speaks volumes about his love. He has suffered late, scrambled-together dinners when I’ve lost track of time while in the writing zone. Because my work space is in our open concept living/dining room, he’s missed his favourite TV programs so I can write in peace and quiet. As my “in-house pastor”, he critiques my writing for theological and doctrinal accuracy. He has taken time off work to drive me to speaking engagements at women’s luncheons, waiting patiently in a coffee shop until I’m done. His support gives me wings to fly and confidence to pursue the ministry God has given me. I love doing what God has created me to do. With the encouragement and support of my husband, I am finally free to pursue my calling. 

We have come a long way since the days of chemotherapy treatments, poor prognoses and an uncertain future. Garth and I enjoy growing old together where we acknowledge every day as a gift from the Lord. Most of all, I want to use this gift of time to thank Him for showering me with His love through the man who loves me so well. 

 

More of Valerie's work can be read on her blog:

https://scriptordeus.wordpress.com/

Love Never Lets Go by Bob Jones

 

 

“Your problem is how you are going to spend this one and precious life you have been issued. Whether you're going to spend it trying to look good and creating the illusion that you have power over circumstances, or whether you are going to taste it, enjoy it and find out the truth about who you are.”

― Anne Lamott

 

“Bob, will you help me write my story?” There was only one possible reply. “Yes” was out of my mouth before I fully thought through the significance of the commitment. Phyllis Fisher thought my yes was a gift to her but the privilege was all mine. Writers love what we do and sometimes what we do is love in writing.

 

FULL CIRCLE

I met Phyllis when her husband Bruce, tied the knot for my wife, Jocelyn, and I in 1979. Eleven years later, Bruce invited me to join his pastoral staff at Central Tabernacle in Edmonton, Alberta.

 

Only four years passed before our lives went full circle. Bruce’s health was failing, and he could not sustain his pastoral responsibilities. The congregation handed me the baton as their pastor positioning me as Phyllis and Bruce’s pastor. The significance of this rare relationship was never lost on Jocelyn and I. Phyllis was Jocelyn’s biggest cheerleader. “She inspired me to believe I could be the pastor’s wife of a significant kingdom church.”

 

TRANSPLANT

In 2015, Phyllis was diagnosed with cancer. Intense treatments were not enough to prevent the end of her life from speeding towards her in 2018. The prognosis inspired her to create a legacy piece for her grandchildren and invited me to help her write it. The afternoons we spent together recording her memories were sacred moments. She invested precious hours of her remaining life into insuring her grandchildren would have a written legacy of her convictions and values.

 

Phyllis was one of the longest surviving kidney transplant patients in Canada. In fact, she was a double transplant patient. Her desire was for people to be assured that organ transplants work. She conferred with many patients who were afraid to have a transplant and when she told them how long she had her transplant they’d respond, "You have been how long?!" When she reached thirty years as a transplant patient, her story was about encouraging other people, not about her.

 

She introduced me to the woman who donated one of her kidneys when Phyllis’ first transplant failed. We met to capture the donor's story for the book. I listened in on their lively conversation in the Fisher living room, unaware that less than two months later Phyllis would be in heaven. Anyone who knew Phyllis was always surprised when they learned about her beginnings. She lived a love that was beyond her natural experience.

 

ABANDONED BUT NOT FORSAKEN

Phyllis was a pre-schooler when her father abandoned the family. Her mother was unable to care for her, so Phyllis lived with other families during her formative years. After high school she was applied for Bible College and was pleasantly surprised that they would accept "a girl like her." While at college she met the love of her life and she faced an early end to her life. Kidney failure threatened her future. Dialysis in the 60's was primitive and painful. Through it all she shared her faith with nurses and doctors and was sustained by a calm assurance that God's love would never let go. In the same year Bruce and Phyllis wed, she received a new kidney. 

Though Phyllis was born into a family that didn’t work, she knew how to make her family work. Her fragile health prohibited her from carrying a baby, so Bruce and Phyllis adopted two children. Phyllis never used her illness or pain to deflect her drive to care for people and it was easy for those looking on to think she never had a care in the world beyond those they knew about. Phyllis fulfilled her dream of becoming credentialed as an ordained minister and a chaplain. When Bruce went on permanent disability, Phyllis became the breadwinner, employed by the Ponoka Hospital and Care Centre. 

 

Our writing journey began in her living room on March 9, 2017. We met for a second interview on March 17^th - Saint Patrick’s Day - a fitting time as Phyllis was proud of her Irish heritage. There was no blarney in her answer when I asked how she was feeling. “I’m at a five out of ten on a pain scale. Three would be a threshold where some attention needs to be paid to my pain level. But that’s OK.”

 

We met again over the next five weeks and fully expected to meet with her in May. Sadly, she needed tertiary care. Our conversations came to an end. Within days she passed. I did my best to fill in the gaps and published her memoir, Love Never Let’s Go a few weeks after her death. 

 

Phyllis left a resounding testimony of God's love and care. She lived her too short life to the full. The Fisher family and their friends expressed appreciation for creating a memoir of Phyllis' life, but I was the one with gratitude for being entrusted with this sacred responsibility. As a writer there is no greater trust than to be invited in to chronicle a love story. Truly, love never lets go.

I write to grow hope, inspire people to be real, forge an authentic faith in Jesus, and discover their life purpose.

Please follow my writing at REVwords.com

I would love to hear from you.

 

A Prayer of Relinquishment ~ Valerie Ronald

 

My husband and I held each other in the dark as we prayed through our tears. We were married only a short time when I discovered the cancer I was being treated for was still growing. We had known this possibility was real, yet we clung to the hope the treatments would work. God had brought us together in a miraculous way, so why would He allow this awful disease to separate us?

As mature Christians, our faith was strong in our sovereign God and His perfect will. This was a second marriage for both of us. We saw ourselves as a couple of seasoned war horses, having survived the battles of our betrayed first marriages with our faith still intact. These trials taught us that when God asks us to surrender our will to His, we must trust He will show us the way. He clearly showed us the way to each other. We knew without doubt our marriage was a gift from Him. Only now our faith was being put to the ultimate test in a life-and-death situation. Could we trust Him with this?

On tear-soaked pillows we relinquished our own dreams and desires to the One who holds all things in His hands. It was a desperate prayer, a laying down of this precious gift of love we had in each other.We surrendered all, but not without a sense of rending, of tearing, of grief at the possibility of losing what we had only just found in our mutual love. It felt risky to lay bare before God our deepest longing. What if He chose not to spare me? What if our life together was cut short?

“Remember what God said?”, whispered my husband. “ 'For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways.' 1  We need to trust Him, no matter what.”

Not only were we called to trust, we were called to obey. Giving over to God what we held dearest to our hearts needed to be done as an act of obedience, not of emotion. Pleading to have our own way, no matter how right it seemed, would be placing our own will above His. If we truly trusted Him, then we must truly trust that His ways are best, whatever the outcome. Our desire for God to be foremost in our hearts must take precedence over our desire for me to be cured. Like Abraham, we placed the “Isaac” of our life together on the altar, giving it to God to do with as He thought best.

My oncologist intensified my treatment regimen. For six more months I endured chemotherapy infusions which made me sicker than the disease itself. When I was at my lowest I sometimes wondered if our prayer of relinquishment was turning into one of resignation. But resignation signifies defeat, giving up to expect the worst. Our prayer meant we accepted the reality of our situation, yet with open hands to receive willingly whatever our loving Father sent. Relinquishment did not close the door on hope.

That night of prayer and tears happened over 19 years ago. Doctors credited the treatments for halting the cancer, but we know God gave me the gift of this long remission. We have come to believe that relinquishing our desires to God, the hardest thing we’ve ever done, positioned us to receive what He wanted to give us and to accomplish what He had in mind for our lives.

What if God had chosen not to prolong my life? Would our prayer have failed? There can be no failure in relinquishing our will to God, because doing so tells God of our complete trust in Him, and that is what He desires most from us. I reached a point when I could say with Job, “Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him.” 2

My husband and I take every day we have together as a blessing from our loving God. We continue to yield our dreams and hopes to Him, not knowing what the outcome will be, yet trusting the One who knows the end from the beginning. Whatever He deems best is fine with us.

___________________________

1  Isaiah 55:8 NIV              2  Job 13:15 NIV

Valerie Ronald lives in Portage la Prairie, Manitoba. She is a graduate of Vancouver's Langara College journalism program, and has worked as a newspaper reporter, freelance writer, public speaker and bookstore employee. She writes devotionals for her home church bulletins and her online blog. Her current book project chronicles how God's faithfulness saw her through the dark valleys of divorce and cancer. Along with her husband, Valerie enjoys spending time with their blended family and six grandchildren. She is a nature photographer, water colorist, cat lover and Scrabble addict.

More of her devotionals can be read on her blog https://scriptordeus.wordpress.com

My Unexpected Shadow Mentor by Bob Jones

What minister wouldn’t want to emulate pastor/authors such as Chuck Swindoll, Max Lucado, Jamie Buckingham, Rick Warren and Eugene Peterson?  From as far back as my first year of pastoral ministry in 1980, their writing informed and inspired my imagination.

 

The library shelves in my office began to fill with books like,

 

“Run With the Horses,”

“God Came Near,”

“Growing Deep in the Christian Life,” 

“Hand Me Another Brick,” 

“Where Eagles Soar,”

“The On Purpose Church”

“A Long Obedience in the Same Direction.”

 

One day, I imagined, there would be a book with my name on it, in the hands of a young pastor seeking to help her or his congregation grow in Biblical knowledge.

 

Then I met storytellers like Patrick Lencioni, Ken Blanchard and Jim Brown. Who would have believed that business principles could be communicated through the real conversations of fictional characters?

My shelves continued to be populated with classics like,

 

“The One Minute Manager,”

“The Five Dysfunctions of a Team,”

“Who Moved The Cheese,”

“The Imperfect Board Member.”

 

In the mid-90’s I started writing a storybook for pastors – a combination Warren and Lencioni – on pastoral leadership. Unfortunately the online manuscript was lost in a series of unfortunate circumstances.

 

That setback neutralized the passion for writing a book. My creative itch was scratched through blogging, newspaper and magazine articles.

 

Then she came along.

 

2011.

 

 

KristenFersovitch phoned me in August 2011 to say she had been diagnosed with inoperable cancer and was given twenty-four months to live. Kristen was a precocious seven-year old when I first met her. She was now a 28-year old a mom of three boys under-five, married to an Edmonton firefighter, a musician, singer and songwriter.

 

For the next twenty-one months, Kristen wrote a weekly blog about the frustration of cancer, the loves of her life and her faith, hope and joy in Jesus. Her content was compelling. In spite of her suffering, God’s favor was on her. Everyone could see it and hear it her music.

 

Just before Thanksgiving weekend, 2013, Kristen passed away. Her family asked me to minister at her funeral service. I can still feel the sunshine warming the tears on my face, standing by her graveside on an autumn afternoon.

 

Everyone who encountered Kristen through her journey with cancer wanted to know how she could have been at her best when life was at it’s worst. Her family gave me permission to chronicle her story - my first book. God’s favor continued through her life, after her death, when the book won a national writing award for most inspiring story of 2015.

 

So Kristen, you are my shadow mentor.

 

Your light shines on.

 

Forever grateful.

The Themes They Are A-Changin' by Lynn Dove

It started during the night as a tightening, then a squeezing pain in my right calf.  I knew right away I had another blood clot, a DVT.  I hobbled down the stairs and broke the news to my husband that he'd better take me to the emergency room. 

He groaned, "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," I winced while struggling to put on my shoes. 

Having a family history of DVT's, cancer, and diagnosed with another clotting disorder, the odds were in my favour to get blood clots at some time in my life, and sure enough, I have experienced deep vein thrombosis three times before this one.  As we drove in silence to the hospital, I could feel the anxiety well up in me.  Times had changed in our world.  We were still in the middle of a pandemic, and I wondered what new protocols might be in place to address my current situation and also to keep me safe from contracting the virus.  I wore a mask, as has been my new normal while I've been out and about the last several weeks, but I was given a new one the instant I walked into the emergency department.  The nurses were in full PPE (personal protective equipment), but their eyes seemed friendly enough.  Both my husband and I were told to sanitize our hands, and wait, keeping socially distant from anyone else in the waiting room.  At least the waiting part was very familiar to us.  It was a full day spent at the hospital, waiting on medical tests to confirm what I already knew, I had a DVT in my right leg.  I was sent home with my prescription for blood thinner pills and a new referral to the Thrombosis Clinic. 

All last year, I had documented my battle with endometrial cancer on my blog, Journey Thoughts.  I certainly had not intended at the start of 2019, that the theme of my writing for most of that year, would be focused on my personal journey with cancer, but life events have a way of determining what I write about.  When my kids were teenagers, I wrote about bullying, based on what they were experiencing at school.  When I was teaching, I wrote about my classroom experiences.  As a grandmother now, I write about my growing family.  My personal walk of faith with God has always been a part of my writing, interwoven throughout like a reoccurring colourful thread.  As life has its ebb and flow, or in my case giant U-turns, my writing gives account to all the highs and lows of daily living and walking with God through it all.

It is no wonder that the last several months, my writing has documented some of the challenges I've faced living through a global pandemic.  Three months ago I never used the terms, social distancing, cohort family, or global pandemic.  I never wore a mask, nor imagined a time when people would be forced to stand two metres apart, or unable to hug loved ones, or discover no toilet paper on grocery store shelves.  I thought I faced a "new normal" after my battle with cancer?  I'm still trying to figure out how to follow arrows in supermarkets to ensure we can pick up milk in a safe and orderly manner!

In the last two weeks, I have seen demonstrations held world-wide, to bring awareness to the systemic racism that pervades our society.  It has sensitized me on how I can write in such a way that shows my empathy without offending anyone.  It hasn't been easy.  I want to stay relevant in my writing, but admittedly, there are just some themes and topics I am uncomfortable in tackling.  So I pray instead, and hope my Saviour groans and intercedes on my behalf, hearing my heart when words fail me.

I've spent the past week with my leg elevated, waiting for the blood thinners to cut in.  Only today have I been able to sit at length in front of my computer to blog.  As I reflect on all the events that have occurred world wide, as well as process my own personal experiences over these past few years, I know my writing is in perpetual metamorphosis.  What I write about today, will not be what I write about a year from now,... maybe not even a week from now.  I'm okay with that.  I do pray I will be writing less and less about my ongoing medical issues, because it's a pain.  Literally.  All I can say with great certainty going forward is, "The Themes They are A-Changin'".

  
Lynn Dove is the award-winning author, of the YA “Wounded Trilogy”- a contemporary Christian fiction series with coming-of-age themes.  A wife, mom, grandmother, and free-lance writer with articles published in several magazines and anthologies including Chicken Soup for the Soul books, her blog, “Journey Thoughts” is a Canadian Christian Writing Award winner.  Readers may connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and at lynndove.com   

Bloom Where You Are Planted by Lynn Dove

The sidewalks were pink with cherry blossom snow.  I could smell the fragrance of newly mowed grass, mingled with the sweet aroma of springtime blossoms.  The seagulls screeched their welcome to me as I walked towards the shoreline and embraced the full view of the ocean, the waves lapping in rhythmic cadence to the beating of my heart.  I was home.  Well, the home of my childhood at least. 

Several weeks before the travel bans and the Covid_19 season of isolation hit us all, I had left my wintry “home” in Alberta, to come to Vancouver Island for a week-long stay.  Had I known what we would be facing when we returned home from the Island, I likely would have fretted and not enjoyed this brief sojourn.  Thankfully, we were blissfully unaware of the growing pandemic looming just over the horizon so we thoroughly enjoyed our trip, drinking in the beauty and familiarity all around us.  Truth be told, I have been a prairie girl far longer than an island girl, having lived in the Calgary area most of my adult life.  Still, whenever I have had opportunity to visit Victoria and travel up and down the Island, I always feel like I am experiencing a homecoming of sorts.  The Island is where I spent my childhood, my teen years, and two years of university before I married the love of my life and returned to Calgary to settle permanently.  I have been a landlubber in Alberta since 1979, raising my family, and enduring the long, harsh winters there.  The getaway to visit parents, friends and family on Vancouver Island has become an almost yearly trek.  It is our annual reprieve from the cold of February and March in Alberta, to embrace Spring in all its glory there on the Island.  I drink in all the green, the budding trees, the crocuses and daffodils that grow like weeds everywhere I look.  I want the sights and smells to imprint themselves on my psyche, so I can recall them vividly when I again return to my Albertan home still in the throes of winter.

Last year, we did not go to the Island.  In April last year I was experiencing a myriad of strange aches and pains that was eventually diagnosed as endometrial cancer.  Spring was all but forgotten as I fought and battled up to Christmas.  During the darkest of those days, when the battle seemed almost overwhelming, I wasn’t sure I would ever experience another spring.  I felt the icy fingers of winter engulf me, even in the heat of summer.  I tried to remain positive, leaning on God for strength through the ordeal of chemo.  Always looking towards the finish line, when I could declare the battle over, I found comfort thinking about how I would embrace life after cancer.  The first item on my “to do” list, was to plan a trip to the Island. 

Wonderment.

 It’s the best way to describe how I felt throughout that week on Vancouver Island.  Wonderment at experiencing Spring in all its glory there, but also wonderment at being fully alive, fully in the moment, battle-weary, but overwhelmingly thankful to be thriving, not just surviving once again!
 

That feeling persists. 

Coming home to wintry Alberta, I didn’t complain about leaving the green of Spring there on the Island even when I saw the white drifts of snow piled up in our driveway.  I was home.  The break from winter had been refreshing, but the familiarity and peacefulness I feel here, even being in the last grips of winter chill, warms my heart like nothing else.  I remind myself that I must bloom where I am planted.  I must bloom, survive, thrive, and embrace life for as many days, weeks, and years that God gives me.  

I can't forget that.

Even in the midst of this Covid isolation, forced quarantine, and my inability to venture out because of my compromised immunity, I remind myself that this season will pass eventually.  I long to hug on my loved ones, and my arms ache to cuddle my grandbabies once again.  Still, I continue to stay positive.  I must enjoy each day as a gift from God no matter what circumstances lay before me.  I must continue to bloom, to look to the future, and be thankful.

After all, I praise God every day that I can bloom at all!

Lynn Dove is the award-winning author, of the YA “Wounded Trilogy”- a contemporary Christian fiction series with coming-of-age themes.  A wife, mom, grandmother, and free-lance writer with articles published in several magazines and anthologies including Chicken Soup for the Soul books, her blog, “Journey Thoughts” is a Canadian Christian Writing Award winner.  Readers may connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and at lynndove.com   

A Season of Refreshment by Lynn Dove

A refreshing drive into the mountains - Highway 1 towards Canmore, Alberta

My oncology visit in January was one I had dreaded.  Why do I always get nervous? I chided myself before my meeting with my doctor.  I was cancer-free,... or was I?  I don't know how many more times I needed to be encouraged by the doctors, but one more time couldn't hurt...could it?

My oncologist tried to reassure me,  "It is not unusual for cancer survivors to be nervous about cancer returning."  She was right about that.  I thought I had beaten cancer in 2001 once and for all, but with the diagnosis last year, I wasn't sure anymore. 

"It's not metastatic."  she said.  Meaning that my endometrial cancer was not a result of a spread of cancer to other organs in my body from my battle with breast cancer, it was an entirely new fight. 

"What does that even mean?" I asked. 

"It's just dumb luck you got cancer twice," she said.  Funny.  I had heard the same phrase from my surgical oncologist in 2001 when I asked how I could have gotten breast cancer.  "Dumb luck," he had said.

I don't believe in luck. I whispered to myself.  "I don't need any more of that kind of "luck"." I said aloud.

"No kidding, right?" she grinned and patted my knee.

Still, it's like an icy presence looking over my shoulder playing peek-a-boo with my emotions.  Would I feel it at every doctor's visit from now on?  The fear, along with the half expected words, "It's back."

She patted my knee again.  "You're doing great!  I also think you can come off the blood thinner injections AND I don't need to see you for another four months."

My husband smiled.  He has been with me to every treatment, every appointment, and I could see the relief in his eyes.  He has never been a fan of hospitals and knowing we don't have to be near one for four months (God willing) was a huge relief.  I thought about the fact I don't have to give myself needles anymore.  A huge weight lifted off of me.  I mentally pushed those icy fingers off of my shoulders and felt lighter in mind, body and spirit.  Throughout those challenging months of treatments, I had longed and prayed for the recovery phase.  Now it seemed I finally had the confidence to move past recovery to another level of wellness: refreshment.  I praised God as we left the cancer clinic and the words to one of my favourite hymns immediately came to mind:

"Great is thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
there is no shadow of turning with thee;
thou changest not, they compassions, they fail not;
as thou hast been thou forever wilt be.

Great is thy faithfulness!
Great is thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
all I have needed thy hand hath provided--
Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!"

The mountains beckoned to us a couple days later.  The normalcy of taking a scenic drive, having lunch with my husband, planning future excursions together, dreaming, drinking in all the sights and sounds around us, we both felt invigorated.  I felt refreshed.  I praised God for the day, for the week, for allowing me to experience this new season of refreshment.  The warm, Chinook wind lifted my wig nearly off my head, so I discarded it and have not worn it since.  It is like shedding another layer, discarding another reminder, another symbol of what I have battled and beaten again.  My newly sprouted, extremely short, dark hair is a "fashion statement", as my husband calls it.  "Show it off!" he said. 

I am enjoying this Season of Refreshment by doing some early spring cleaning, embracing the days with renewed energy.  God continues to comfort me through His people, and His Word.  Worshiping God through song, I am ever mindful that He is faithful.  Once again, I have experienced His compassions and I am now renewed.

"Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,
sun, moon, and stars in their courses above
join with all nature in manifold witness
to thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love.

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide,
strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

Great is thy faithfulness!
Great is thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
all I have needed thy hand hath provided--
Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!"

Source: Trinity Psalter Hymnal #245
Thomas O. Chisholm (1923)  Public Domain
Lamentations 3:22-23

Lynn Dove is the award-winning author, of the YA “Wounded Trilogy”- a contemporary Christian fiction series with coming-of-age themes.  A wife, mom, grandmother, and free-lance writer with articles published in several magazines and anthologies including Chicken Soup for the Soul books, her blog, “Journey Thoughts” is a Canadian Christian Writing Award winner.  Readers may connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and at lynndove.com   

“Rest” For 2020 by Alan Anderson

Matthew 11: 28-29—Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

I don’t have a practice of choosing a verse or word for a particular year. I’m giving it a shot for 2020. My key word is, “rest.”

No sooner had the New Year 2020 started reality reminded me the world acts as it is accustomed. You and I are bombarded by all sorts of in your face disruption and mankind’s cruelty to each other. Tragedies like the Jan. 8 plane crash woke me up to the fact of great sadness all over the world.

I’m tired of it all. What is the answer to all this weariness, this reality of being “heavy laden?” Is there an answer? As a storyteller who is a Christian I know there is. There is only one answer and no other. The words of Christ noted at the beginning of this post offer the answer. To those who come to Him, He offers rest.

I admit the yoke of the world, its ways of life, can weigh me down. This yoke is too much and difficult to bear. These days with so much sin, confusion and disorder being tolerated, I want to fade away. My thoughts taunt me by saying I don’t feel safe and I don’t fit in. The temptation to find a place to run away can be inviting.

Matthew 11:28-29 speaks to me. The words call me back and remind me of my deep need. There is a place of safety, of rest, from the storms of life and calamities of our world. I need to remind myself of this gentle rest. I need rest found only in God. This rest is not found in the world. Coming to God is the only way. I know this is basic to our lives if we are Christians.

Years ago my family doctor suggested I relax more. I can’t say I listened and in 1997 I began two years of burnout and depression. This dark time caused me to reflect on what I did to myself to come to this time of burnout. I took on too much to please other people. I know I have considered this time in my life in another InScribe post or two. The thing is as I reflect on this even today I am still learning from it.

Years have gone by since my burnout and depression but I still need rest. This rest allows me to be calm and patient even in the midst of the agonies of the world and those I love. I’m not always successful in this. This takes self-discipline for me, as I’m prone to worry about my family and others. When my wife had cancer surgery two years ago I must say it robbed me of rest. She reminded me of her attitude rest is possible even in such circumstance.

From a personal perspective, I rest and lay aside from performing for people, in doing things I think will stand me in good stead with others. I try to be at peace with the people in my world who don’t always understand me. I try to be at peace with decisions I make regarding relationships with others, including family, friends, and strangers.

I have “come” to God through Jesus and I realize I am in the world but not of it. To embrace, and never let go of Christ’s yoke is rest. Like all Christians, I too am to be Christ-like. I am to show what “rest” looks like to the world. I can walk with Him in peace and rest.

Oh, God, help me show your rest to all I meet.

https://scarredjoy.ca/

In his Heart... by Lynn Dove

As most of my fellow InScribers know, 2019 was a battleground year for me.  Fighting endometrial (uterine) cancer, I finished my last radiation treatment on December 3rd, rejoicing in the fact I was cancer-free once again.  It was a long, and weary fight and I'm still trying to overcome some of the side effects associated with my treatments.  I had hoped to start the New Year, more or less, back to normal, but I have a new "normal" now, and it's taking me a little time to get used to it.  Doctor, and specialist appointments are already on my calendar.  I haven't committed myself to participate in any  extra activities because I never know how I will feel on any given day.  I used to plan well in advance, now I don't look further ahead than a week at a time.  Sometimes that gets shortened to a day at a time.  I know it's all part of the recovery phase I now find myself, but it does get frustrating, especially for my A-type personality, to be forced to rest when my heart says "RUN!"  It's that old adage of my mind is willing but my body is weak. 

On January 3rd, I joined our local recreation centre, determined to begin my fitness journey again.  I'm not a resolution person, but I feel it important to build up my stamina and try to stave off the aging process as much as possible.  I've got two "set in stone" calendar dates I cannot miss: my daughter's wedding on July 18th, and the 40th Anniversary of the Terry Fox Marathon of Hope run in Victoria, B.C., on September 20th.  I know the organizer of the head-shaving event, and I have been asked to be one of the guest speakers.  I have made my plans for those two special days, but I also know only too well that, "In his heart, a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps."  Proverbs 16:9

That particular scripture verse has been my life verse.  I have gotten so used to the U-turns in life that I am no longer surprised by them.  2019 taught me that when a health crisis hits, all plans change, almost in an instance.  Nothing else takes precedence than fighting the battle.  Dates on the calendar are wiped clean, activities are cancelled or rescheduled. The idea is to trust God and allow Him to steer me through, around and over any of those unexpected life-changes I find myself.  God has never steered me wrong! 

My prayers are that 2020 will be filled with countless memory-making events, and that I will be strong and healthy to plan, and enjoy each and every one of them!

I have appreciated all your prayers for me last year, and ask that you continue to pray for me while I continue to recover.

Lynn Dove is the award-winning author, of the YA “Wounded Trilogy”- a contemporary Christian fiction series with coming-of-age themes.  A wife, mom, grandmother, and free-lance writer with articles published in several magazines and anthologies including Chicken Soup for the Soul books, her blog, “Journey Thoughts” is a Canadian Christian Writing Award winner.  Readers may connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and at lynndove.com