God Cares About the "Small" Things - Ruth Snyder

image from http://clickartonline.com/

"Mom, why are we turning around?"

"We're going back to Edmonton. To get your iPad, Levi." I fought to keep my tone even, though I felt like screaming. I kept telling myself it was only an iPad. 

"Mom's not very happy with you right now." Between checking for other vehicles, I glanced at my fifteen-year-old son. His eyes were on vehicles approaching, no doubt identifying each one. He had absolutely no clue about my inner turmoil. All he knew was that his iPad was missing.

We had left Edmonton half an hour before. Since we were later than I thought we would be, I had phoned the lady who was staying with our other children to make sure she could stay until we arrived home. Just as we were reaching the outskirts of the city, Levi reached down to grab his iPad so he could take a picture of a vehicle that was approaching. It wasn't there. Keeping my eyes on the road, I groped around, thinking it had fallen out of his reach. My hand came up empty too. I found a safe place to pull over and Levi and I both looked for the iPad. Nothing.

I knew I had given Levi's iPad back to him after our visit to the toy section in Walmart. "Did you put your iPad down somewhere?" It's never easy to get information out of Levi. Between his speech difficulties and developmental delays, facts come out garbled at the best of times. I talked him through events and we both came to the realization that his iPad had probably been left on the bathroom counter of Walmart.

Most of the way back I was praying. Hoping the iPad would be where Levi left it. Asking God to help me maintain my perspective. Reminding myself that it was only an iPad, costing about $1,000 to replace, but nevertheless only a piece of technology. 

When we arrived back at Walmart, we went to the bathroom. No iPad. My heart sank. 

"Excuse me. Is there a lost and found in the store?"

The security guard nodded. "What are you looking for?"

"An iPad."

"Go check at customer service."

As we walked through the store I continued praying. Trying to prepare myself to deal with the reality we'd never see the iPad again.

"Hi. I came to see if you had an iPad turned in."

The clerk smiled and reached behind her. There it was! Levi's iPad. Safely back in his hands.

"Thank you!" 

I felt like shouting. Instead I thanked God and Levi and I headed home.

Even as I write this, there are tears in my eyes. God cares about you and me! Have you thanked Him for something today?

Rose-Coloured Glasses by Marnie Pohlmann

Since last January when the year’s lists of prompts for this blog were shared, I have been dreading this month. The prompt is to choose a memory connected to our writing, and tell how it is a memorial for us, which is an appropriate subject for the month we commemorate Remembrance Day. However, memories are difficult for me. Childhood trauma buried most good recollections along with bad. As an older teen, some of those good memories began to return, as did flashbacks of pain. Stories told by my siblings also raised reminiscences, however good times were often bracketed by confusion. So while I could try to tell a story of how books and writing provided escape from pain, I believe it’s more helpful this month to share that God heals pain.

Shared on Facebook recently was a meme with a picture of blankets thrown over a table and chairs to make a tent. The sentiment was that as an adult we want to go back to those simple days of playing in such a shelter. I was reminded that seeing my own children play under the dining table many years ago, and not recognizing what they were very naturally doing, was the impetus for me to focus on healing from my past. And so began a journey from darkness, through memories, to learning to wear rose-coloured glasses.

If you read my post last month, you may wonder how a girl who sees most situations as glass half-empty can also wear rose-coloured glasses, but I don’t mean seeing life outside of reality. My rose-coloured glasses are God-given, developed by building memorials.

I love memorials! They are different from memories. Memorials are monuments of when we recognize God at work. Memorials can be built in celebration or in the midst of troubles, or even in the blank spaces of memory - because God is sovereign in all these times.

A definition for memorial is “a written statement of facts presented to a sovereign,” so we can take our understanding of the facts of our past or present situation to our Sovereign God. When I write a memorial like this to God, He faithfully shows me His presence and speaks into my heart.

God’s presence makes it possible for me to see not just the pain of the past, but also the blood of Christ that redeems that pain. When we know Immanuel, “God with us,” He helps us make sense of life, providing bloodstained truth about our struggles. As we take the time to build this kind of memorial, facing the hard things and testifying to God’s work in our life, the memorials become guiding lights, shining when we again find ourselves in darkness and pain. Memorials provide Hope for God’s good plan. 

Seeing life through rose-coloured glasses does not mean ignoring pain or insisting our glass is only ever full. The frame of our glasses may be coloured by the pain we have experienced, but Christ’s blood tints the lenses through which we view life. 

Our memorials light not only our own path, though. God’s light can shine from our path into the lives of others. There has been a lot in the media lately about the effects of trauma on soldiers, first responders, and refugees. When those affected are struggling in darkness, our memorials show them there is hope. Writing is how I build memorials, knowing God can use them to light the journey of others.

So I wear God-given, bloodstained, rose-coloured glasses and write memorials of God’s work in my life.

"Solid Rock" Memories by Connie Inglis

As I've shared on this blog before, I haven't been writing for that many years so I don't have many writing memories that have become memorials for me. However, I do have many faith memories that have become memorials for me. Long ago I termed these memories, "rocks," just like in Joshua 4 where God asks one man from each tribe to pick a stone from the middle of the Jordan, cross into the Promised Land, and then build a memorial. Joshua 4:7--"These stones will stand as a memorial among the people of Israel forever," i.e. my "Solid Rocks." 

A year ago, during a difficult family time, God gave me one such rock of promised faithfulness through a rainbow. This wasn't just any rainbow. This was a vibrant, almost electrical, iridescent rainbow that followed our car as we ribboned our way through the Coquihalla Pass in B.C. As it danced alongside our car for half an hour, I felt like I could reach out and touch it's golden strands of promise. I knew that God did this for me--to remind me that all would be well. He knew I needed a rock. He is a good God.

That being said, I do have a couple of writing "rocks" that remind me of God's faithfulness to my obedience in writing for His glory.

In 2004, after years of putting my schooling on hold,  I returned to course work by correspondence to finish my English degree. It was a return to publishable writing. For one of my courses I was asked to write a contemplative piece so I wrote a tribute to my dad from the summer when I was 15. My sister and I spent that whole summer helping build the house that my parents lived in for almost 40 years. I received a good grade so I thought I'd submit it to the MB Herald for their June Father's Day focus. When my submission was accepted, I was thrilled. It was a surprise for my parents and I couldn't wait for them to receive their copy in the mail. That published piece became my "rock" as I continued in my course work and my writing. You can read my piece here:
http://www.mbherald.com/45/08/housejake.en.html

Then in 2010 I submitted another piece for Mother's Day which you can read here:
http://mbherald.com/my-mothers-magical-kingdom/

These two pieces are part of my memorial, an alter of thanksgiving to God for the opportunity to write for Him. They are a source of strength and courage. And they are a reminder of God's faithfulness in my life and that He has made me unique, with something to offer the world through the written word.

And along with this, I never forget that I too am a rock in God's hands--a rock that He is cutting and tumbling and carving and faceting for His glory so that I can shine uniquely for Him. Part of that uniqueness is being able to write. I remember that this too is a precious "Solid Rock."

Love, Trust, Count - by Susan Barclay

As I was thinking this month about leaving a legacy, I thought about my writing, and  about the epitaph I would most want inscribed on my gravestone. Then I re-read the writing prompt and saw that we were to “write a memorial-building account of something [we] want to pass on to [others]…about God’s goodness in [our lives].” That made me think again with new direction.

In January I wrote on my personal blog about having chosen a word for the year. Initially, I identified the word as ‘habits’; later, I defined it more specifically as ‘trust’. As it turned out, there was a lot I was going to have to trust God for this year. And, praise God, He is faithful. He has shown His goodness time and time again. 

Looking back on my life, I see many stories I can share with family and friends to testify of God’s provision. Some examples:

·         He allowed me to be born into a Christian family, to attend church and participate actively in a community of faith;

·         When I was seven, He (literally) saved my life by stopping me from running into a bog;

·         Even though I did some dumb things when I was a pre-teen and a teenager, He spared me from harm;

·         He didn’t always answer my prayers the way I wanted Him to, and in retrospect, I see how He was guiding my path and keeping me from heartache;

·         Just at the right time, He blessed me with a god-fearing husband. We have been together now for more than twenty years and are raising two beautiful children;

·         He gave me a talent and a dream and opportunity to pursue both;

·         Through different events, He’s taught me that my heart and home are large enough to embrace people in need, and He’s more than big enough to take care of us all. 

I could go on but you get the idea. As the song says, “our God is able to do exceeding abundantly, exceeding abundantly above/all our hopes, all our dreams, all we ever hope to be/our God is able to do.” 

If I could model the legacy I want to leave, I would demonstrate the following: love God, love people; trust God, count your blessings. I leave you with this hymn as a reminder to do just that.

Count Your Blessings

______________

 For more of my writing, please visit www.susan-barclay.ca 

Passing On the Legacy - Tracy Krauss

My mother was a very vibrant and eccentric individual. She was known for her whimsical ways and inspired a family phrase that perfectly described the way she lived her life. ‘The Doreen Method’ is our way of saying ‘make it up as you go along’. This applied to recipes, sewing, carpentry… just about anything. Mom wasn’t afraid to tackle tasks if she had no previous experience or skill, but the outcome might not be the norm. As an artist she loved to paint on any surface from canvas to rocks to whole buildings. When my sister and her husband moved into Mom’s old house they were faced with a dilemma.  There were lots of funny little murals she had painted in obscure nooks and crannies. How could one paint over them?

Mom was also a storyteller, and some of my favourite childhood memories include listening to bedtime stories and songs. We were well acquainted with Thornton W. Burgess’ Adventures of Reddy Fox, for instance. In fact, foxes and mice were the favourite characters in her repertoire of stories and songs. She shared them with her children and nieces and nephews, and the tradition was carried forward to her grandchildren and even her great-grandchildren.

Mom passed away in 2007 at the age of 80. Unfortunately, we lost her seven years earlier to dementia. It was so difficult to see such a formerly vibrant individual reduced to the shell that she became. I had the privilege of sitting with her during the hours before she passed away. Somewhere around four o’clock in the morning on January 17, 2007, she slipped away to be with Jesus, free from the mental constraints that had kept her trapped for those seven years.

While I sat with her, holding her hand, I sang some of those old songs. One particularly special song was an old Haven Gillespie tune written in the 1930s called ‘The Sleepytown Express’. (listen here!) This is the song that ushered her into the presence of the Lord.  Strangely, my sisters and my two female cousins all woke at around four o’clock, dreaming about the Sleepytown Express...

I decided soon afterward that I would like to publish a book illustrating the song as a tribute to my mother. It took several years to do the paintings and quite a bit of  research to obtain permission to use the lyrics, but finally, in February of 2014, seven years after Mom passed, The Sleepytown Express was published.

Evangeline and Oma (me)

For me this project was so much more than another book under my belt. It was about sharing Mom’s legacy with the extended family and passing it on to the next generation. Here is a picture of my own granddaughter reading her favourite book. As you can see from the shape of the cover, it is well used. This is not a book to be kept in pristine or precious condition; it is a book to be sung and celebrated as we pass the memorial torch on to the next generation.

Tracy Krauss comes from a long line of creative people - artists, musicians, writers, and teachers go back generations. She currently teaches Art, Drama, and English - all things she is passionate about, while living in Tumbler Ridge with her husband. She also writes books and plays in her 'spare' time. Here is a link to an article called 'Artistic Generations'. You can also visit her website to see all of her published work: 7 novels, 7 stage plays, 3 anthologies, one devotional, and one illustrated children's book... and counting!