Oct 152016
 

I woke up today to the family wondering where the entire case of Gatorade had gone. It was almost comical listening to them feel insane swearing up and down that it was on the floor in the dining room the day before, especially since it had been.

But the floors needed mopped and I cleaned out a cupboard and found space and was able to unpack the case and recycle the box and put the Gatorade away and apparently when you tell the child who actually needs the Gatorade where it is and don’t tell anyone else it causes an early morning ruckus as they try to get ready for a hockey game.

They found it, you know, once they actually stopped looking on the floor!


It’s amazing how a small move can really cause such an issue for someone when they are used to things being in a certain place, a certain way. And yet for us Christians many of us spend our lives searching for God and in reality He isn’t hidden in a cupboard, a church, behind a door, or inside of a book. Yes, He certainly is in all of these places but the one place that needs to be searched and tends to be overlooked is within our own hearts, our own souls.

He created our soul in the very beginning. He created it all, and all of us, right then and there in those first days as the universe took shape and for whatever reason we expect God to be like the Gatorade or the lost keys or the dollar you thought you had in your wallet and can’t find, but that’s not the case. He is unmoving, unwavering, living within those of us who choose to live.

When we accepted Him into our hearts as Lord and Saviour of our lives it wasn’t until He moves on to someone else, to another place. This isn’t a game of hide and seek. He is there, forever and always. We can send Him an eviction notice but He will wait us out and He won’t move.

A compilation of 150 blog posts from the Five Minute Friday Community. The stories found in these pages span a diverse range of experiences, but share a common thread: A Love For the Bravely Written Word.
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Oct 142016
 

It’s been well over 18 months since my best friends letters quit coming. The last from a jail somewhere in Nova Scotia, with a piece of artwork inside like every week. In it he told me that his health was continuing to get worse and that he feared if anything were to happen that the facility wouldn’t provide the help that he required.

I haven’t heard from him since. It’s been over a year now since he should have been released. Since I met him 9 years ago he never missed a single week in mailing me, never missed calling me when he said he would, and when he said he wouldn’t.

I know he is gone, and yet each week I open up the PO Box and eagerly go through each bill hoping that there is a letter from him in there somewhere. Yet, there never is, and hope slowly and reluctantly fades and I place my faith blindly in the Lord because while my friend was a criminal, his whole life, he was also a Christian and his letters from jail would encourage me in my walk with the Lord each week.

We would discuss the books we were reading, the studies we were doing, what we had learned and how walking the walk with God daily was better than not walking it at all and that a daily goal was far easier to achieve then one created with a form of long commitment.

His last handmade card to me still hangs with a clothes pin on my Truly Blessed birdcage from DaySpring and I can’t help but worry that he is still alive and suffering somewhere that he can’t reach me from. Lord knows I have tried to find him, but there are no obituaries or news articles or arrest records or anything that I can find. It’s like he just stopped. Stopped what? I don’t know… writing? Breathing? Living?

I trust that the Lord has him safely wherever he is, I pray that there is no more suffering and that the lack of mail is because my friend is wholly whole with the One who is and always will be Holy.

A compilation of 150 blog posts from the Five Minute Friday Community. The stories found in these pages span a diverse range of experiences, but share a common thread: A Love For the Bravely Written Word.
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Oct 132016
 

I’ve been staring at the screen and the cursor blinking now trying to write and I am aware of the sound of the fish tank needing water, the rush of the filters flowing hard and lulling me to a different time and place.

Aware that the darkness outside my window seems blacker than usual -a sign that the moon and stars must be covered in clouds that can’t be seen until the sun rises.

The exhaustion that has taken over my body weighing me down, like if I were to fall into waters deep I would sink straight to the bottom like a solid rock -and there never seems to be enough air. The air is tight inside of me, not wanting to escape my lungs and refusing to fill them properly too.

Panic possesses me and heightens the sensations of… everything. My emotions running high, my heart easily wounded and hurt. My bruises coloring me in shades of purples and pinks and blacks and green.

The swelling in my back pressing against my tailbone and causing numbness to painfully run down my legs.

A God who has redeemed me and saved me from all of these things if I simply choose to have faith, and I do. I am aware of that, and when the pain gets too high I pull into Him even more than I do in the everyday mundane and for that I am grateful. The hurt in my body and the broken in my soul are what makes me cry out to the One who has already saved.

And, when it is really bad I can feel His mouth against my ear and His words caress my ear “by My stripes you are healed.” The truth, spoken directly into me by the One who IS Truth.

A compilation of 150 blog posts from the Five Minute Friday Community. The stories found in these pages span a diverse range of experiences, but share a common thread: A Love For the Bravely Written Word.
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Oct 122016
 

This week I have been reminded that while we are scientifically made out of carbon and a bunch of other things that sit happily on the periodic table of elements the reality is that we are simply energy that can and does defy all space and time, life and death. We just need to be in tune with our own energy, our own soul -which by the way, can’t be found in the human body, despite science looking for it for generations!

No, I am energy, bouncing molecules in the flesh and floating ones that create my soul that God can see and others who are sensitive to this knowledge can feel. I have reached around the world from Canada to the lemon treed yard in Australia of a friend who I was able to show energy to, to allow him to experience mine. To tell him colors I could see, things I could feel, things that were true to the physical world despite his lack of belief. He believes now.

When he woke the other day with pain and I focused my energy on it and asked him to focus his energy on the healing energy I was emanating he sweetly asked me “will it hurt you?” and the answer is no… it doesn’t hurt, it makes me tired, drained my physical and spiritual energy and causes exhaustion but it doesn’t hurt. Within a few minutes of us concentrating and connecting his pain had eased and a numbness took over, is he better? No, but it doesn’t hurt.

My exhausted mind felt when my best friends dad passed and was able to see the aches in a photo that he hadn’t spoken, because that unspoken-broken says it all if we look into the soul of the person we are staring at instead of at their physical self.

They say you can cut the tension with a knife in a space where an argument has occurred, that’s the energy that we emit and carry with us no matter where we are or when.

I could see the pacing man who passed, and was able to find out that he wasn’t angry or upset about being in the spiritual world, he is simply concerned for his wife and kids, about the insurance, he is proud of his kids, he wanted them to know. And, I passed along the messages he gave me and they were received with much thanks because my friend understands that we are all energy too.

So when I look up at the sky, whether its grey or white or blue or black or colored like a big ole bruise rolling in hard and fast I know that the sun that shines is the same one that you can see -wherever you may be, and those stars and that moon they are the same ones too and the sky seemingly so expansive, so vast, connects us from each corner of this circular world in a way that only the One who created it all could have hoped when He made this amazing design. While spring is popping up in Australia and snow is popping up here the sky is something we can always share and the miles don’t exist and love transports the energy that needs to be shared.

I believe it was Susan Shipe who said that I have a prophetic gift of being a “seer.” I would love to be able to say that I can call myself something as cool as that, but no… I am simply a humble servant of God, who listens to the energy of her world and shares what she can with whoever is open to listening.

A compilation of 150 blog posts from the Five Minute Friday Community. The stories found in these pages span a diverse range of experiences, but share a common thread: A Love For the Bravely Written Word.
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Oct 112016
 

Author and Farmers Wife, Ann Voskamp, has written a whole book on giving thanks. The hard eucharisteo, and for me her words flowing off the pages was absolutely life changing. I think they were for a lot of people given that One Thousand Gifts was a New York Times Number 1 bestseller for some 60+ weeks.

As someone who reviews books I have an idea of how many are published every single day so earning that spot is insane, earning it and keeping it for over a year is unheard of, or at least it was.

My journals filled each year and put into the box in the closet filled with the blessings of the year, the good and the bad. The unspoken-broken that needed to be acknowledged.

Now, I see that this fellow Canadian who is used to waking long before the sun does, who collects eggs in the snowy minus 40 has written another book, The Broken Way, and while I have yet to read it I also completely understand how broken life can be, how in order to experience wholeness I must first experience a shattering of the soul so that God can place me back together.

I am excited for this book. Even the trailer speaks to my soul-holes and brightens the shadowed spots with the One that is the Light. And, we could all use a little more God, stronger faith, more Light.

As the days shorten my faith grows long.

Just like you, Ann Voskamp hungers to live her one life well. Forget the bucket lists that have us escaping our everyday lives for exotic experiences. ‘How,’ Ann wondered, ‘do we find joy in the midst of deadlines, debt, drama, and daily duties? What does the Christ-life really look like when your days are gritty, long–and sometimes even dark? How is God even here?’ In One Thousand Gifts, Ann invites you to embrace everyday blessings and embark on the transformative spiritual discipline of chronicling God’s gifts. It’s only in this expressing of gratitude for the life we already have, we discover the life we’ve always wanted…a life we can take, give thanks for, and break for others. We come to feel and know the impossible right down in our bones: we are wildly loved–by God. Let Ann’s beautiful, heart-aching stories of the everyday give you a way of seeing that opens your eyes to ordinary amazing grace, a way of being present to God that makes you deeply happy, and a way of living that is finally fully alive. Come live the best dare of all!
$18.99 USD

New York Times best-selling author of One Thousand Gifts Ann Voskamp sits at the edge of her life and all of her own unspoken brokenness and asks: What if you really want to live abundantly before it’s too late? What do you do if you really want to know abundant wholeness? This is the one begging question that’s behind every single aspect of our lives — and one that The Broken Way – also a New York Times bestseller – rises up to explore in the most unexpected ways.  

This one’s for the lovers and the sufferers. For those whose hopes and dreams and love grew so large it broke their willing hearts. This one’s for the busted ones who are ready to bust free, the ones ready to break molds, break chains, break measuring sticks, and break all this bad brokenness with an unlikely good brokenness.  You could be one of the Beloved who is broken — and still lets yourself be loved. 

You could be one of them, one who believes freedom can be found not only beyond the fear and pain, but actually  within it.

You could discover and trust this broken way — the way to not be afraid of broken things.

X

$22.99 USD
Oct 102016
 

When you see me in the grocery store smiling and laughing you don’t see the pain behind my smile. The unknown’s that are hidden behind my eyes but right at the surface of my brain. Almost like if you were to pluck out an eyeball instead of gore you would have thousands of thoughts just pour out of me.

Ones that only a very select few even know.

Ones that often scare even myself.

I don’t know how tonight will go or what tomorrow will bring or if the risen Son will give me the gift to rise at all.

The unknowns are in everything, the everyday mundane, in the isle that hasn’t caused an asthma attack in a year that made me sick today. In the strange smell of fried onion wafting through the town at 9:30 this morning or the smell of blueberry tea around noon.

They say you learn something new every day. I never used to believe that, but then one day I realized that Christ was the gift that keeps on giving, the teacher who keeps teaching, the preacher that keeps preaching. I am His lamb and He is my shepherd. A hook to gently guide.

The only thing I know for certain is that Christ is the One constant, the One that is steadfast, faithful, unmoving, every changing and not changing at all.

 

Oct 092016
 

Funny how over the years the words “Post-It” have caused flashes of ugly little squares of paper with a sticky back to flood the brain. Then you go to buy the darned things and see the cute owls and the off brands and you literally stand there wasting time debating price, color and cuteness all for a note that likely won’t stick.

A reminder that will be lost before it’s been forgotten.


I look through my Bible tabbed with Post-It’s the same way that my daughter has her textbooks tabbed. Interesting how something that I had only began doing that she didn’t know about is something I had spotted her doing the same. I wonder if this is normal or if its some form of inherited colour-coding mother-daughter neurotic trait. Lord knows our lives closely mimic each other without intention.

I guess it doesn’t matter too much though if we aren’t purposely trying to be like the other.

I don’t want her to be a yellow or pink or acid green Post-It note that everyone has or can achieve. I want her to be unique. Her own shade with her own tackiness.

I want her to make her own mistakes and be victorious over Satan slain. Even if each of us must crush that cursed serpents slithering head with the heel of boots of steel made for hard work again and again.

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