Today was the last day of classes in the semester. Students talked about what they had learned about grammar, about reading, and about sentence structure. I told them that most important was what they had learned about themselves, about how to be in the world, how to interact with others, and how to be a better human. I told them that if they didn't learn these things, then I felt that, somewhere along the line, I hadn't succeeded in my role as teacher.
Today was the last day of classes in the semester. This is the day all teachers wait for and look forward to. I love teaching, but even teachers who love teaching look forward to the last day of classes. No matter how much we love helping the students reach their goals; no matter how much we enjoy being in the classroom and interacting with the students--on the last day of class, we're happy.
Today was the last day of classes in the semester. I know this is the last time I'll see some of these students. That's the sad part. Even promises to "keep in touch" may fade in importance as other things take over in the daily routine.
We've all worked hard since September, and we are all looking forward to a rest. For some, there will be a major change, as they return to their own country, their own culture, and, yes, their own language. As much as I've encouraged them all to keep listening to, speaking, writing, and reading English, I know that kind of activity will drop off dramatically once they land in Bogota, Macau, Tokyo, Kyoto, or wherever else they call "home."
Farewell . . . till we meet again!
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
HBS 9426
We are the family of last-minute projects and hare-brained schemes (HBS). We work to the deadline. This means that when we arrive at the finish line, we're practically dead.
We measure the hare-brainèd-ness of any scheme by how many late/sleepless nights it takes to complete the project. The more late/sleepless nights, the higher the number on the HBS (hare-brained scheme) scale. "Late" usually means past midnight.
Lately, we've been involved in a few such enterprises. For example, making signs for a school fundraiser. This was a many-stage project. First, finding just the right graphic. Then, setting up the projector to project the image on the blackboard. Next, tracing the design in chalk, colouring carefully over each line in various and appropriate colours of chalk. Finally, delivering the finished product to the venue at which the fundraiser would be held.
On a scale of 1 to 10 (1=low and 10=high), that was about a 7.
Tonight, it was different effort. Six person-hours, and that was just counting tonight. Last night boosted us up on the HBS-ometer with this hare-brained scheme (HBS). I'm sure it was past midnight when we put away the proxima; gathered pencils, pens, and rulers; shut down the laptop; and turned off the lights. We'd spent a couple of hours (two-person hours, for a total of four-person hours) tracing the letters on a banner for our float in the Christmas Parade. And that wasn't counting the thinking and planning time. I'd put it at about an 8.
But we all pull together. Everyone in the family helps. One person has an idea; another person adds to it; a third improves it even more. The kids cooperate and lend a hand to the project by quietly watching a movie while the adults work.
I use the term "hare-brained scheme" (HBS) loosely. Most of our efforts are actually directed towards very worthwhile projects: school fundraisers, grassroots activist groups, and other such world-improving projects.
It just seems that in the middle of the work, or towards the end of a long evening during which we'd all rather be doing something else but our word that we've given keeps us focused, the plan of action that we signed up for seems a bit like a hare-brained scheme.
We all decided that it would just be too depressing to assign a number to and keep count of all such projects that we undertake. But at least, we're all in it together. A project is always a chance to work together, help each other, and improve the world.
What better use could we make of our time?
We measure the hare-brainèd-ness of any scheme by how many late/sleepless nights it takes to complete the project. The more late/sleepless nights, the higher the number on the HBS (hare-brained scheme) scale. "Late" usually means past midnight.
Lately, we've been involved in a few such enterprises. For example, making signs for a school fundraiser. This was a many-stage project. First, finding just the right graphic. Then, setting up the projector to project the image on the blackboard. Next, tracing the design in chalk, colouring carefully over each line in various and appropriate colours of chalk. Finally, delivering the finished product to the venue at which the fundraiser would be held.
On a scale of 1 to 10 (1=low and 10=high), that was about a 7.
Tonight, it was different effort. Six person-hours, and that was just counting tonight. Last night boosted us up on the HBS-ometer with this hare-brained scheme (HBS). I'm sure it was past midnight when we put away the proxima; gathered pencils, pens, and rulers; shut down the laptop; and turned off the lights. We'd spent a couple of hours (two-person hours, for a total of four-person hours) tracing the letters on a banner for our float in the Christmas Parade. And that wasn't counting the thinking and planning time. I'd put it at about an 8.
But we all pull together. Everyone in the family helps. One person has an idea; another person adds to it; a third improves it even more. The kids cooperate and lend a hand to the project by quietly watching a movie while the adults work.
I use the term "hare-brained scheme" (HBS) loosely. Most of our efforts are actually directed towards very worthwhile projects: school fundraisers, grassroots activist groups, and other such world-improving projects.
It just seems that in the middle of the work, or towards the end of a long evening during which we'd all rather be doing something else but our word that we've given keeps us focused, the plan of action that we signed up for seems a bit like a hare-brained scheme.
We all decided that it would just be too depressing to assign a number to and keep count of all such projects that we undertake. But at least, we're all in it together. A project is always a chance to work together, help each other, and improve the world.
What better use could we make of our time?
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Civic Elections
Our city has a new mayor tonight. On city council, five of the six incumbents were returned, and there will be one new face at the table. Congratulations!
Thank you to those who put themselves forward to run for office. It's not an easy thing to give up a certain amount of privacy, to be put on the "hotseat" and asked questions by the voting public, and to spend your own money on campaign efforts all because you believe you can make this city a better place to live.
But shame on us! Only 22% of eligible voters turned out to exercise their civic right and duty. In the nearest city to us, the turnout was almost 40%.
So 22% of the eligible voters have decided for 100% of the citizens.
This is democracy.
Thank you to those who put themselves forward to run for office. It's not an easy thing to give up a certain amount of privacy, to be put on the "hotseat" and asked questions by the voting public, and to spend your own money on campaign efforts all because you believe you can make this city a better place to live.
But shame on us! Only 22% of eligible voters turned out to exercise their civic right and duty. In the nearest city to us, the turnout was almost 40%.
So 22% of the eligible voters have decided for 100% of the citizens.
This is democracy.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
This Week on CBC's "Ideas"
This week, the CBC radio program "Ideas" will broadcast the CBC Massey Lectures. Margaret Atwood will be reading from her newest book, Payback: Debt and the Shadow Side of Wealth. In addition to being a great novelist, Atwood is almost a social critic and commentator. You can read the CBC promo for the show at this web site:
http://www.cbc.ca/ideas/massey.html
Tune in to "Ideas" Monday to Friday this week on CBC Radio One at 9 p.m. Check your local listings for the broadcast time in your area.
It's going to be great!
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
This Was No Comfort to Me.
Today, I was listening to a lecture by the eminent professor who teaches the distance course that I'm taking. He said this: "I'll never ask you anything on a test that I couldn't tell you myself."
As his student, I drew no comfort at all from his statement. I'd seen his resume posted on the seminary web site. It was impressive. He is the Richard Jordan Professor of Theology at Reformed Theological Seminary. He has a BA, a BD and, from the University of Edinburgh, a PhD. Oh, and a diploma from the University of Lyon.
The description continues: "His firm grasp of multiple languages [probably Hebrew, Greek, Latin, French . . . ] and his theological competence are capably demonstrated in translating such works as Sermons by John Calvin on II Samuel. He is serving with David Wright of the University of Edinburgh as a general editor for a revision of Calvin's Old Testament Commentaries."
Hmm. Are you getting the picture? I began to feel very nervous about the upcoming midterm exam, even bearing in mind that he wouldn't ask me anything he didn't know.
He has recently written Creation and Change: Genesis 1.1 - 2.4 in the Light of Changing Scientific Paradigms and Carolina Scots: An Historical and Genealogical Study of Over 100 Years of Emigration, and has just published a systematic theology. He has travelled extensively throughout the world preaching and teaching. He was enlisted to serve on the Jurisprudence project of The Christian Legal Society and wrote a book, The Emergence of Liberty in the Modern World. Other publications include If God Already Knows, Why Pray? and Preachers with Power: Four Stalwarts of the South.
There was absolutely no comfort in his statement, "I won't ask anything of you that I couldn't tell you myself."
As his student, I drew no comfort at all from his statement. I'd seen his resume posted on the seminary web site. It was impressive. He is the Richard Jordan Professor of Theology at Reformed Theological Seminary. He has a BA, a BD and, from the University of Edinburgh, a PhD. Oh, and a diploma from the University of Lyon.
The description continues: "His firm grasp of multiple languages [probably Hebrew, Greek, Latin, French . . . ] and his theological competence are capably demonstrated in translating such works as Sermons by John Calvin on II Samuel. He is serving with David Wright of the University of Edinburgh as a general editor for a revision of Calvin's Old Testament Commentaries."
Hmm. Are you getting the picture? I began to feel very nervous about the upcoming midterm exam, even bearing in mind that he wouldn't ask me anything he didn't know.
He has recently written Creation and Change: Genesis 1.1 - 2.4 in the Light of Changing Scientific Paradigms and Carolina Scots: An Historical and Genealogical Study of Over 100 Years of Emigration, and has just published a systematic theology. He has travelled extensively throughout the world preaching and teaching. He was enlisted to serve on the Jurisprudence project of The Christian Legal Society and wrote a book, The Emergence of Liberty in the Modern World. Other publications include If God Already Knows, Why Pray? and Preachers with Power: Four Stalwarts of the South.There was absolutely no comfort in his statement, "I won't ask anything of you that I couldn't tell you myself."
Monday, November 3, 2008
Valerie Elaine Wilkins, Where Are You?
This is November 3. It's a special day in my memory. It has been for a long time.
When I started Grade 5, I changed schools. I was the new girl in the class. The teacher paired me up with another student named Valerie. Throughout the next three years, we became best friends. In Grade 5, Valerie lived on my street, just a few houses--half a block--down the street. Then she moved three streets over. Montclair, Walkley, Prince of Wales.
We used to run home on our lunch hour, either to her house or my house. We always had the same thing for lunch. A glass of milk and cream of tomato soup with handfuls of Saltine crackers crumbled up in it. Then we'd race back to school. Three blocks to my street, then three or four blocks to the school. I think we were late lots of times. Or almost late.
When we started Grade 8, Valerie and I went to different high schools. It was the beginning of the end. In Grade 9, I moved to the suburbs. The last time I talked with Valerie was when I was in Grade 11 or 12.
November 3 is Valerie's birthday. I can picture her face the way I last saw it. I don't know where she is now. Our lives have taken us different places and there have been many years in between then and now. It was from Valerie that I first heard the phrase "retribution of justice." At that time, it was perhaps the most complicated language I had ever heard and the most profound idea I had ever come in contact with.
I still remember the great times we had together. I remember walking home from Girl Guides every Thursday night. We'd get to the corner of her street, but we weren't finished talking. So she'd walk me to my corner, but we still weren't finished talking. I'd walk her back to her corner, and maybe she'd walk me back to mine. Then we'd each have to run home before our mothers were phoning each other, worried that something might have happened to us on the way home.
I remember playing. I remember lots of laughing.
Today, I just wanted to say, "Happy Birthday, Valerie."
When I started Grade 5, I changed schools. I was the new girl in the class. The teacher paired me up with another student named Valerie. Throughout the next three years, we became best friends. In Grade 5, Valerie lived on my street, just a few houses--half a block--down the street. Then she moved three streets over. Montclair, Walkley, Prince of Wales.
We used to run home on our lunch hour, either to her house or my house. We always had the same thing for lunch. A glass of milk and cream of tomato soup with handfuls of Saltine crackers crumbled up in it. Then we'd race back to school. Three blocks to my street, then three or four blocks to the school. I think we were late lots of times. Or almost late.
When we started Grade 8, Valerie and I went to different high schools. It was the beginning of the end. In Grade 9, I moved to the suburbs. The last time I talked with Valerie was when I was in Grade 11 or 12.
November 3 is Valerie's birthday. I can picture her face the way I last saw it. I don't know where she is now. Our lives have taken us different places and there have been many years in between then and now. It was from Valerie that I first heard the phrase "retribution of justice." At that time, it was perhaps the most complicated language I had ever heard and the most profound idea I had ever come in contact with.
I still remember the great times we had together. I remember walking home from Girl Guides every Thursday night. We'd get to the corner of her street, but we weren't finished talking. So she'd walk me to my corner, but we still weren't finished talking. I'd walk her back to her corner, and maybe she'd walk me back to mine. Then we'd each have to run home before our mothers were phoning each other, worried that something might have happened to us on the way home.
I remember playing. I remember lots of laughing.
Today, I just wanted to say, "Happy Birthday, Valerie."
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Reformation Day - October 31
Tomorrow, October 31, children and adults across North America and Europe will celebrate Halloween. A walk around both my neighbourhood and my workplace reveals that many have spent time and money to decorate their houses, yards, and office doors and windows. There are bats, ghosts, goblins, ghouls, coffins, gravestones, black cats, hideous faces carved in pumpkins, witches on broomsticks, cobwebs, mummies, and much more--and that's not even counting any of the costumes that will be walking about tomorrow.
They will celebrate Halloween. As for me, I choose to celebrate Reformation Day. This is the commemoration of the day on which Martin Luther posted his 95 Theses on the door of the Castle Church at Wittenberg, Germany. That was October 31, 1517. That act, 491 years ago, instigated the movement known as the Reformation.
Make no mistake. The Reformation was no small or insignificant event. It influenced politics, economics, society, literature, the arts, and even the development of the English language. And it reformed the religious system of the day.
At the core, it was religious movement that celebrated the rediscovery of the good news of salvation by grace through faith in Jesus Christ.
That good news has not changed; it is as true today as it was when Luther posted his document on the church door. He originally wrote in Latin, but his theses were quickly translated into German and printed and distributed throughout Europe. You can read the 95 Theses at the following web site: www.spurgeon.org/~phil/history/95theses.htm
Ninety-five of anything sounds like a lot, and "theses" sounds awfully academic, but actually, what Luther wrote were 95 simple statements (that's what's meant by "theses.")
Scholars debate whether Luther actually nailed his document to the church door or not. For sure, we know that on Oct. 31, 1517, he wrote a letter to his superiors protesting the sale of indulgences. With his letter, he included 95 propositions or statements protesting against various corrupt practices of the church. He was the first Protestant.
Regardless of whether or not Luther ever had a hammer and nail on that day, the Castle Church door has become famous as a symbol of his act. The original door burned down, but in the 18th century, bronze doors were fashioned with the 95 Theses permanently engraved on the panels of the doors.
As for Luther, he left the priesthood, was excommunicated from the Roman Catholic church by the Pope, became an enemy of the state, translated the Bible into German, wrote hymns, got married to a (former) nun, and fathered six children.
On this day, may Christians everywhere remember their heritage and the great cloud of witnesses who surround us.
They will celebrate Halloween. As for me, I choose to celebrate Reformation Day. This is the commemoration of the day on which Martin Luther posted his 95 Theses on the door of the Castle Church at Wittenberg, Germany. That was October 31, 1517. That act, 491 years ago, instigated the movement known as the Reformation. Make no mistake. The Reformation was no small or insignificant event. It influenced politics, economics, society, literature, the arts, and even the development of the English language. And it reformed the religious system of the day.
At the core, it was religious movement that celebrated the rediscovery of the good news of salvation by grace through faith in Jesus Christ.
That good news has not changed; it is as true today as it was when Luther posted his document on the church door. He originally wrote in Latin, but his theses were quickly translated into German and printed and distributed throughout Europe. You can read the 95 Theses at the following web site: www.spurgeon.org/~phil/history/95theses.htm
Ninety-five of anything sounds like a lot, and "theses" sounds awfully academic, but actually, what Luther wrote were 95 simple statements (that's what's meant by "theses.")
Scholars debate whether Luther actually nailed his document to the church door or not. For sure, we know that on Oct. 31, 1517, he wrote a letter to his superiors protesting the sale of indulgences. With his letter, he included 95 propositions or statements protesting against various corrupt practices of the church. He was the first Protestant.
Regardless of whether or not Luther ever had a hammer and nail on that day, the Castle Church door has become famous as a symbol of his act. The original door burned down, but in the 18th century, bronze doors were fashioned with the 95 Theses permanently engraved on the panels of the doors.As for Luther, he left the priesthood, was excommunicated from the Roman Catholic church by the Pope, became an enemy of the state, translated the Bible into German, wrote hymns, got married to a (former) nun, and fathered six children.
On this day, may Christians everywhere remember their heritage and the great cloud of witnesses who surround us.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Lost . . . and Found
I've been looking for something. Something that didn't belong to me. I had borrowed it, and then, when it came time to return it, I couldn't find it. I was sure I hadn't LOST lost it but had just misplaced it. But where? It wasn't too small, about the size of a video box. Actually, it was a video box--two to be exact. And they had been borrowed from the library. This week I was informed that the library was going to bill me about $75 for the "lost" videos, but I was assured that should they ever surface, I would receive a cheque for the aforementioned amount.
The prospect of paying $75 for something that wasn't LOST lost was not too appealing. So tonight, I took the inevitable step. I went through my office paper by paper, book by book, binder by binder. I sorted. I reorganized. I discarded.
The shelves grew neater as the recycling bin grew fuller. Some time around 10:30 p.m., I think I had forgotten that I was actually looking for something specific and I just starting revelling in the sparseness and bareness of the shelves. Yes, I could live like this!
By eleven o'clock, the elusive videos still hadn't surfaced. It's not as if I hadn't looked for them before. Not this thoroughly, of course, but I had made less diligent search more than once, both at home and at the office. I had picked up papers, shuffled them about, flipped books back and forth on the shelf, and opened all the filing cabinet drawers.
Maybe it was where I was standing this time that was the key to my success. (Yes, I did find what I was looking for!!) I opened the top filing cabinet drawer, but instead of standing directly in front of the cabinet as I usually do, I stood at the side, and standing there, I could see around behind the files at the front of the drawer to the relatively empty space behind the files. And voilà! There were the missing videos! It was all a matter of perspective!
So tomorrow, happily, I will return the videos to their proper home in the library, and hopefully, all will be forgiven.
I felt the elation of the woman who lost the coin and swept her house clean till she found it. And the shepherd who lost a lamb and scoured the countryside till he found it and returned rejoicing.
Now if I could only find that lost book on dinosaurs that I've already paid for at the public library!
The prospect of paying $75 for something that wasn't LOST lost was not too appealing. So tonight, I took the inevitable step. I went through my office paper by paper, book by book, binder by binder. I sorted. I reorganized. I discarded.
The shelves grew neater as the recycling bin grew fuller. Some time around 10:30 p.m., I think I had forgotten that I was actually looking for something specific and I just starting revelling in the sparseness and bareness of the shelves. Yes, I could live like this!
By eleven o'clock, the elusive videos still hadn't surfaced. It's not as if I hadn't looked for them before. Not this thoroughly, of course, but I had made less diligent search more than once, both at home and at the office. I had picked up papers, shuffled them about, flipped books back and forth on the shelf, and opened all the filing cabinet drawers.
Maybe it was where I was standing this time that was the key to my success. (Yes, I did find what I was looking for!!) I opened the top filing cabinet drawer, but instead of standing directly in front of the cabinet as I usually do, I stood at the side, and standing there, I could see around behind the files at the front of the drawer to the relatively empty space behind the files. And voilà! There were the missing videos! It was all a matter of perspective!
So tomorrow, happily, I will return the videos to their proper home in the library, and hopefully, all will be forgiven.
I felt the elation of the woman who lost the coin and swept her house clean till she found it. And the shepherd who lost a lamb and scoured the countryside till he found it and returned rejoicing.
Now if I could only find that lost book on dinosaurs that I've already paid for at the public library!
Monday, October 27, 2008
The Written Word and Jesus, the Word
As I walked home from work today, I was thinking about 2 Timothy 3:16, where it says that all scripture is "inspired by God or "God-breathed" or, in the words of the English Standard Version, "breathed out by God."
The problem with the word "inspiration" is that it means breathing in. We need to make sure we have the right perspective. It's God that breathes out the Word.
In contemplating the nature of the written word, I began to think of the relationship between the written word and Jesus as the Word, the Logos.
He was God, and, at the same time, He was man. This is a mystery for sure, but it is true nonetheless.
I began then to think about the product that we have now that we call the Bible. It proclaims itself to be the word of God. 2 Peter 1:21 tells us that "men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit." Some other translations say "moved" or "borne" by the Holy Spirit.
The particular thought that struck me was that in a similar way that Jesus (the Logos) was both God and man, both divine and human, so the Bible also is both divine and human.
It makes sense, does it not? They are both the Word of God.
The problem with the word "inspiration" is that it means breathing in. We need to make sure we have the right perspective. It's God that breathes out the Word.
In contemplating the nature of the written word, I began to think of the relationship between the written word and Jesus as the Word, the Logos.
He was God, and, at the same time, He was man. This is a mystery for sure, but it is true nonetheless.
I began then to think about the product that we have now that we call the Bible. It proclaims itself to be the word of God. 2 Peter 1:21 tells us that "men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit." Some other translations say "moved" or "borne" by the Holy Spirit.
The particular thought that struck me was that in a similar way that Jesus (the Logos) was both God and man, both divine and human, so the Bible also is both divine and human.
It makes sense, does it not? They are both the Word of God.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
So Many Stars!
The other morning, my five-year-old grandson, Caleb, was up early with me at about 6:15. It was still dark out, and, even though it was cold, I stepped out onto the back deck to view the cloudless sky. As a portent of winter, Orion guarded the early morning sky. Only a few other stars were visible. I called to Caleb to come out on the deck with me, and I pointed out the stars of Orion. He counted those stars and the few others that were still visible in the approaching dawn . . . “eleven, twelve, thirteen! Wow! So many stars, Grandma!”
So many stars, indeed! Last night, a friend and I walked to the clearing at the top of my driveway at the lake to view the sky at 2:45 a.m. It was very dark and cold. We saw why the Psalmist sang, "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above shows his handiwork" (Ps. 19: 1). We gazed up at the sky for so long that our necks became sore and we became dizzy.
Tonight, once again, we went to the clearing at the top of the driveway. This time, we were on a quest for the Coat Hanger, a deep-sky object in that dark valley of the Milky Way near Cygnus. We stood in the middle of the road where the sky is most open. I scanned the sky but couldn’t find what I was looking for. I moved my focus a bit to the right, a bit up, a bit over, but couldn’t zero in on it. Resigned, I commented out loud: “I can’t spot; it’s too . . . OKAY, I FOUND IT!” Then I looked away and found it again. And looked away and found it again. Now I knew where to look.
I handed the binoculars over and pointed out where it was. At first, the Coat Hanger was elusive, but within minutes, I could tell by the excitement in my friend’s voice that she had found it. She counted the stars in the horizontal part of the “hanger”: "One, two, three, four, five, six . . ." and the ones in the hanger’s hook: “and one, two, three, four.” I knew she had seen it clearly.
Then we put the real plan for tonight's outing into action. We spread two plastic picnic tablecloths on the driveway and we lay down and covered ourselves with a comforter to keep warm. From this reclining position, our eyes drank in the Milky Way, that fog of stars that stretched from the northwest across the expanse of the heavens to the southeast over the lake. To our left, the Seven Sisters of the Pleiades winked at us through the branches of the trees. The binoculars felt heavy as we held them to our eyes, but the resulting view showed so many stars!
We lay there for a while, just listening to the stars speak to us, all the while hoping no errant driver would turn down our driveway by mistake. Despite the diamond dust above us, we weren't very comfortable. My neck and back were cold, even though I had on a t-shirt, a sweater, a sweatshirt, a jacket, a scarf, a toque, gloves, and, under my jeans, pyjama pants as a second layer. But we were happy. We had found what we were looking for. And that wasn't easy, amid so many stars.
So many stars, indeed! Last night, a friend and I walked to the clearing at the top of my driveway at the lake to view the sky at 2:45 a.m. It was very dark and cold. We saw why the Psalmist sang, "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above shows his handiwork" (Ps. 19: 1). We gazed up at the sky for so long that our necks became sore and we became dizzy.
Tonight, once again, we went to the clearing at the top of the driveway. This time, we were on a quest for the Coat Hanger, a deep-sky object in that dark valley of the Milky Way near Cygnus. We stood in the middle of the road where the sky is most open. I scanned the sky but couldn’t find what I was looking for. I moved my focus a bit to the right, a bit up, a bit over, but couldn’t zero in on it. Resigned, I commented out loud: “I can’t spot; it’s too . . . OKAY, I FOUND IT!” Then I looked away and found it again. And looked away and found it again. Now I knew where to look.I handed the binoculars over and pointed out where it was. At first, the Coat Hanger was elusive, but within minutes, I could tell by the excitement in my friend’s voice that she had found it. She counted the stars in the horizontal part of the “hanger”: "One, two, three, four, five, six . . ." and the ones in the hanger’s hook: “and one, two, three, four.” I knew she had seen it clearly.
Then we put the real plan for tonight's outing into action. We spread two plastic picnic tablecloths on the driveway and we lay down and covered ourselves with a comforter to keep warm. From this reclining position, our eyes drank in the Milky Way, that fog of stars that stretched from the northwest across the expanse of the heavens to the southeast over the lake. To our left, the Seven Sisters of the Pleiades winked at us through the branches of the trees. The binoculars felt heavy as we held them to our eyes, but the resulting view showed so many stars!
We lay there for a while, just listening to the stars speak to us, all the while hoping no errant driver would turn down our driveway by mistake. Despite the diamond dust above us, we weren't very comfortable. My neck and back were cold, even though I had on a t-shirt, a sweater, a sweatshirt, a jacket, a scarf, a toque, gloves, and, under my jeans, pyjama pants as a second layer. But we were happy. We had found what we were looking for. And that wasn't easy, amid so many stars.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Cognitive Dissonance
Okay, I admit it: it was late. I'd been working at my computer for a few hours, only getting up to walk to the kitchen every hour or so for a glass of water. Maybe my brain was overtaxed, like the rest of me. After staring at the screen for so long, my eyes suddenly shifted and . . . I jumped! And gasped!
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw this:
What surprised me, of course, was that in my fog of tiredness, I thought that my grandson, Noah, was somehow outside the window staring in at me. It was surreal, like a scene from a dream, a bad dream. Not bad because I could see my grandson, but bad because that moment of cognitive dissonance threw me off kilter. I knew he was in bed fast asleep and couldn't possibly be outside at such a late hour, yet what I saw in that flicker of my eye was his little face staring in at me through the window.
Cognitive dissonance is that strange twist in our brain that happens when we try to make sense of something that doesn't make sense. Our perception is somehow skewed, and we do our best to untangle our thoughts. Most of the time, as in this case, there is a logical explanation, even if, at first glance, it isn't apparent.
What became apparent to me is that I had recently placed his new school photo behind some other photos that grace my window sill, and that the dark blue background of the photo was pretty much the same as the darkness outside at 11:30 at night.
And, of course, that maybe I shouldn't sit at the computer for so long!
On a more serious note, we sometimes have this same kind of cognitive dissonance when, for instance, we watch the news and see story after story of war, suffering, disaster, and destruction. Everything we see around us screams "chaos." Financial fortunes lost in an instant, whole countries "going under"--everything seems hopeless and helpless.
Yet despite what we see and what we behold with our eyes, the truth is that our sovereign God is executing his plan. All things will culminate in his plans being fulfilled. We needn't fear the wars or rumours of wars. We need only remember that if we are persuaded that God is good and merciful, we can repose in Him with perfect trust, and not doubt that in his loving-kindness a remedy will be provided for all the ills.
I didn't actually make that last sentence up; it's basically a paraphrase from John Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion, II, 2, 2, which is on the reading list for the course I'm taking. First published in Latin in 1536, Calvin's words still speak with clarity and simplicity after 472 years.
By the way, I wonder what's being written today that will still be being read 472 years from now.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw this:
What surprised me, of course, was that in my fog of tiredness, I thought that my grandson, Noah, was somehow outside the window staring in at me. It was surreal, like a scene from a dream, a bad dream. Not bad because I could see my grandson, but bad because that moment of cognitive dissonance threw me off kilter. I knew he was in bed fast asleep and couldn't possibly be outside at such a late hour, yet what I saw in that flicker of my eye was his little face staring in at me through the window.
Cognitive dissonance is that strange twist in our brain that happens when we try to make sense of something that doesn't make sense. Our perception is somehow skewed, and we do our best to untangle our thoughts. Most of the time, as in this case, there is a logical explanation, even if, at first glance, it isn't apparent.
What became apparent to me is that I had recently placed his new school photo behind some other photos that grace my window sill, and that the dark blue background of the photo was pretty much the same as the darkness outside at 11:30 at night.
And, of course, that maybe I shouldn't sit at the computer for so long!
On a more serious note, we sometimes have this same kind of cognitive dissonance when, for instance, we watch the news and see story after story of war, suffering, disaster, and destruction. Everything we see around us screams "chaos." Financial fortunes lost in an instant, whole countries "going under"--everything seems hopeless and helpless.
Yet despite what we see and what we behold with our eyes, the truth is that our sovereign God is executing his plan. All things will culminate in his plans being fulfilled. We needn't fear the wars or rumours of wars. We need only remember that if we are persuaded that God is good and merciful, we can repose in Him with perfect trust, and not doubt that in his loving-kindness a remedy will be provided for all the ills.
I didn't actually make that last sentence up; it's basically a paraphrase from John Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion, II, 2, 2, which is on the reading list for the course I'm taking. First published in Latin in 1536, Calvin's words still speak with clarity and simplicity after 472 years.
By the way, I wonder what's being written today that will still be being read 472 years from now.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Fall is Splendiferous!
I've lived in the Peace country for more than 30 years, and yet I never tire of the glories of fall. The air has a crispness to it that heralds the coming winter, but it's invigorating, and for sure, it wakes me up during an early morning walk to work.
There is a certain sadness to the colour of the leaves. The yellow is bright in the sun, but on a cloudy day, it dims to a pale yellow that soon turns into a grubby brown once it's on the ground. When the wind has finally whipped all the leaves off the trees, there is a sameness to the branches, brownish-gray against the hills and sky.
I still miss the riot of reds and yellows and oranges and browns on the huge maple trees in Montreal, where I grew up. I'd like to go back, maybe even a bit farther south, perhaps to Vermont, in the autumn, and once again, shimmer in those colours, but for now, I'll have to content myself with yellow . . . brown . . . down!
There is nothing finer than an autumn walk through the woods or the park with kids on their bikes or in the stroller. The leaves crunch and rustle under our feet, and overhead, the bare branches of the trembling aspens click and clack on one another, faint applause for the annual Show of Leaves.
I cherish the memories of these days.
There is a certain sadness to the colour of the leaves. The yellow is bright in the sun, but on a cloudy day, it dims to a pale yellow that soon turns into a grubby brown once it's on the ground. When the wind has finally whipped all the leaves off the trees, there is a sameness to the branches, brownish-gray against the hills and sky.
I still miss the riot of reds and yellows and oranges and browns on the huge maple trees in Montreal, where I grew up. I'd like to go back, maybe even a bit farther south, perhaps to Vermont, in the autumn, and once again, shimmer in those colours, but for now, I'll have to content myself with yellow . . . brown . . . down!
There is nothing finer than an autumn walk through the woods or the park with kids on their bikes or in the stroller. The leaves crunch and rustle under our feet, and overhead, the bare branches of the trembling aspens click and clack on one another, faint applause for the annual Show of Leaves.
I cherish the memories of these days.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
An Amazing, Beautiful Thing
The human body is an amazing, beautiful thing. Not mine particularly, but in general I mean. We recently had a marvellous demonstration of the truth of this (that's the body is amazing and beautiful) when the gymnastics team from Ollerup, Denmark, visited our town as guests of our local gymnastics club.
The bleachers at the high school gym were packed. On the visiting team were 30 gymnasts; half were men, half women. They put on a 45-minute spectacle that combined tumbling, gymnastics, precision drill, and modern dance, all to upbeat musical accompaniment that showed the choreography at its best.
The costumes were beautiful. In number after number, the gymnasts marched, strode, or floated into the gym in an array of colours perfectly suited to the music and mood of the dance. My favourite was the turquoise dresses for the dance with “pins”—wooden "bowling" pins that were swivelled, swirled, spun, tossed, caught, and occasionally dropped.
The men did a routine to the music of the "Pirates of the Caribbean." The costumes were clever, as were the tumbling, rowing, and riding the "waves."
My grandchildren were spellbound. They sat and paid rapt attention for the whole show and proved that it was possible for them to sit still.
And how excited they were when the team visited their school the next day for a demonstration. The boys both came home and immediately turned the living room furniture into mats and springboards. They wanted to show off their new moves that they had learned.
We've had no injuries yet, and the lamp is still standing!
The bleachers at the high school gym were packed. On the visiting team were 30 gymnasts; half were men, half women. They put on a 45-minute spectacle that combined tumbling, gymnastics, precision drill, and modern dance, all to upbeat musical accompaniment that showed the choreography at its best.
The costumes were beautiful. In number after number, the gymnasts marched, strode, or floated into the gym in an array of colours perfectly suited to the music and mood of the dance. My favourite was the turquoise dresses for the dance with “pins”—wooden "bowling" pins that were swivelled, swirled, spun, tossed, caught, and occasionally dropped.
The men did a routine to the music of the "Pirates of the Caribbean." The costumes were clever, as were the tumbling, rowing, and riding the "waves."
My grandchildren were spellbound. They sat and paid rapt attention for the whole show and proved that it was possible for them to sit still.
And how excited they were when the team visited their school the next day for a demonstration. The boys both came home and immediately turned the living room furniture into mats and springboards. They wanted to show off their new moves that they had learned.
We've had no injuries yet, and the lamp is still standing!
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Flashback to the Sixties
I was a teenager in the Sixties. It was the era of protests. Some people protested against war, against abortion, against poverty. Other people protested for student rights, women's rights, and civil rights. There were marches and demonstrations and sit-ins. Some were peaceful; some were not. Some times, there were small groups of people. Other times, like the famous March on Washington, gathered hunderds of thousands of like-minded citizens together. These events were in the news on a daily basis. And these marches and demonstrations and sit-ins changed our society.
As a young person, I watched but never took part in a demonstration or march. I saw the signs and placards, heard the shouts and slogans, but, at that time was too conservative, sheltered, fearful, naieve--or a combination of all these things.
When my daughter was at the University of British Columbia in the Nineties, not only was she in a protest, but her shouting face and upraised arm were prominent in a photo in the Vancouver Sun. I remember feeling proud and a bit fearful at the same time when I saw that picture.
Recently, I had a second chance to stand up and be counted. I took part in a demonstration right here in my hometown, a town of 18,000 people in a northern, rural area. We were protesting the proposal to build a dam seven kilometres southwest of this city. We were protesting because building this dam will mean flooding a valley, destroying good farm land, removing people from their homes, destroying wildlife habitat and fish species. These things are forever.
We gathered at a park in the centre of the city, a group of about 30 people. We had placards and banners, cowbells and whistles. As we marched up the main street, drivers honked their horns and we shouted all the louder, "No Site C! No Site C!" Others took up the cry with "No consultation without the information."
Traffic stopped as we crossed the street, then back again to the other side. Once we reached the main crossroads, we posted groups on each of the four corners so cars approaching from all directions could read our signs.
We were peaceful, but we were not to be deterred. When we entered the hotel where the utility company was holding public stakeholders meetings, the security guard told us that we couldn't go in there, but we responded that it was a public meeting and we were going in.
Once inside the meeting, we lined the room. One of the group had written a protest song specifically for that night's demonstration. He had his guitar and sang the verses, and we all joined in on the chorus. Members of the public applauded as we finished singing and filed out of the room.
I don't know if the protests will change the outcome of the consultation process and prevent what many say is the inevitable, but somehow I think they change those who participate in them. By making our voice heard in this way--a way that is still available to us in this country, we know, whatever the outcome, that we have done our part. We have done our best. We have believed enough in something to stand up and be counted.
We have tried to make this world a better place.
As a young person, I watched but never took part in a demonstration or march. I saw the signs and placards, heard the shouts and slogans, but, at that time was too conservative, sheltered, fearful, naieve--or a combination of all these things.
When my daughter was at the University of British Columbia in the Nineties, not only was she in a protest, but her shouting face and upraised arm were prominent in a photo in the Vancouver Sun. I remember feeling proud and a bit fearful at the same time when I saw that picture.
Recently, I had a second chance to stand up and be counted. I took part in a demonstration right here in my hometown, a town of 18,000 people in a northern, rural area. We were protesting the proposal to build a dam seven kilometres southwest of this city. We were protesting because building this dam will mean flooding a valley, destroying good farm land, removing people from their homes, destroying wildlife habitat and fish species. These things are forever.
We gathered at a park in the centre of the city, a group of about 30 people. We had placards and banners, cowbells and whistles. As we marched up the main street, drivers honked their horns and we shouted all the louder, "No Site C! No Site C!" Others took up the cry with "No consultation without the information."
Traffic stopped as we crossed the street, then back again to the other side. Once we reached the main crossroads, we posted groups on each of the four corners so cars approaching from all directions could read our signs.
We were peaceful, but we were not to be deterred. When we entered the hotel where the utility company was holding public stakeholders meetings, the security guard told us that we couldn't go in there, but we responded that it was a public meeting and we were going in.
Once inside the meeting, we lined the room. One of the group had written a protest song specifically for that night's demonstration. He had his guitar and sang the verses, and we all joined in on the chorus. Members of the public applauded as we finished singing and filed out of the room.
I don't know if the protests will change the outcome of the consultation process and prevent what many say is the inevitable, but somehow I think they change those who participate in them. By making our voice heard in this way--a way that is still available to us in this country, we know, whatever the outcome, that we have done our part. We have done our best. We have believed enough in something to stand up and be counted.
We have tried to make this world a better place.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
A Bolt from the Blue
Yesterday, I was hit by a bolt from the blue. No, I didn't have an epiphany or think of a creative plan to solve the world's problems or make a million dollars. It wasn't that kind of bolt.
It was a bolt of fabric thrown from a mezzanine level 40 feet above me. Someone else had had a bolt from the blue about the fastest way to unroll a bolt of fabric. Toss it over the railing and let gravity do the rest. In theory, this is a very practical idea. As it happened, the moment that person felt the bolt leave her hand she saw me below, striding purposefully on my own errand, oblivious to the impending danger.
I didn't know what hit me. The bottom corner of the bolt hit my left cheekbone, knocked off my glasses, threw me off balance, and sent me flying to the ground.
My grandson heard the "smack" of the bolt hitting the floor. In the confusion of people rushing to pick me up, he thought it was the sound of his Grandma hitting the floor. People brought water, Advil, and ice wrapped in a Ziplock bag and a towel. I sat for a few minutes, till I stopped seeing stars.
It's easy to toss an incident such as this off without another thought. On the other hand, it's a chance to be thankful for the providence of a great and loving God who looks after me, even to protecting me from a bolt from the blue.
It was a bolt of fabric thrown from a mezzanine level 40 feet above me. Someone else had had a bolt from the blue about the fastest way to unroll a bolt of fabric. Toss it over the railing and let gravity do the rest. In theory, this is a very practical idea. As it happened, the moment that person felt the bolt leave her hand she saw me below, striding purposefully on my own errand, oblivious to the impending danger.
I didn't know what hit me. The bottom corner of the bolt hit my left cheekbone, knocked off my glasses, threw me off balance, and sent me flying to the ground.
My grandson heard the "smack" of the bolt hitting the floor. In the confusion of people rushing to pick me up, he thought it was the sound of his Grandma hitting the floor. People brought water, Advil, and ice wrapped in a Ziplock bag and a towel. I sat for a few minutes, till I stopped seeing stars.
It's easy to toss an incident such as this off without another thought. On the other hand, it's a chance to be thankful for the providence of a great and loving God who looks after me, even to protecting me from a bolt from the blue.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Family Projects
When anyone in our family takes on a project, it inevitably turns into a family project. This means that everyone is recruited. Right now, we're very busy with a fund-raising project for the kids' school. It's a great event, with entertainment, international foods, a silent auction and a live auction. We're expecting about 350 people to attend.
My daughter is one of the main organizers. Over the past few weeks, more and more of the responsibilities fell onto her plate, and as that happened, she started recruiting. Around the dinner table.
First, could I please help with serving drinks at the café on the night of the event. Okay, that didn't sound too hard. Then, volunteers were in short supply, so I said I would ask some of my students if they'd like to help. That turned out well as several were eager to get involved in a community event. It's a great chance to practice your English, I told them.
I also asked one of my students who has studied piano for 15 years if he would be part of the entertainment line-up, and he said yes, he'd like to do that! So far so good.
Now today, we're right up against a firm deadline, as the event is tomorrow. Ms. Organizer Extraordinaire commandeered our kitchen and has been mixing, tasting, adjusting, and stirring all day. She's in charge of drinks. Because children will attend this event, the drinks are hot and cold non-alcoholic drinks with funny names like Hazelnut Mutt, Irish Setter, French Poodle (those are the flavoured coffees), Mount Everest, Boo Boo Berry, Cherry Chill (the kids' drinks) and Vienna Cooler, English Garden Sipper, and Southern Belle (cold drinks for the adults).
Other details also needed taking care of. After dark, a covert operation was mounted. Undercover agents were eight-year-old son and Mom (names are withheld to protect the guilty). Tools: garden snippers. Destination: tall hedges with brilliant red leaves. Result: beautiful centrepieces for the tables.
Of course, we'll have to find some time, probably after the event, to clean up what's been left in our wake as we dashed from one task to the next. This is the garage floor where the table arrangements were produced!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I was making signs with chalk and blackboards. The boards are 36" x 30" and will hang above the café table. They turned out quite well, if I do say so myself!
Now, it's quarter past midnight and I've just finished assembling nine posters, the edges of which needed trimming so the poster panels could be overlapped and taped.
All these jobs are more difficult than they first appear, and even if we correctly assess the difficulty right from the start, they always take longer than we first anticipated.
Tomorrow . . . well, it's actually already that day . . . will be a very busy day, with lots of to-ing and fro-ing, and with setbacks and upsets, no doubt. On the other hand, tomorrow night, when it's all over, and we're the last ones to leave the hall, we will be able to look back at the event and know that we did our best.
This kind of project, where family and friends all get involved, is a great way to teach kids about what it means to be in a family. A family supports you. A family helps you. A family bails you out. A family puts their heads together to come up with creative solutions for whatever problems crop up. A family works together right to the end.
That lesson is a valuable one.
My daughter is one of the main organizers. Over the past few weeks, more and more of the responsibilities fell onto her plate, and as that happened, she started recruiting. Around the dinner table.
First, could I please help with serving drinks at the café on the night of the event. Okay, that didn't sound too hard. Then, volunteers were in short supply, so I said I would ask some of my students if they'd like to help. That turned out well as several were eager to get involved in a community event. It's a great chance to practice your English, I told them.
I also asked one of my students who has studied piano for 15 years if he would be part of the entertainment line-up, and he said yes, he'd like to do that! So far so good.
Now today, we're right up against a firm deadline, as the event is tomorrow. Ms. Organizer Extraordinaire commandeered our kitchen and has been mixing, tasting, adjusting, and stirring all day. She's in charge of drinks. Because children will attend this event, the drinks are hot and cold non-alcoholic drinks with funny names like Hazelnut Mutt, Irish Setter, French Poodle (those are the flavoured coffees), Mount Everest, Boo Boo Berry, Cherry Chill (the kids' drinks) and Vienna Cooler, English Garden Sipper, and Southern Belle (cold drinks for the adults).
Other details also needed taking care of. After dark, a covert operation was mounted. Undercover agents were eight-year-old son and Mom (names are withheld to protect the guilty). Tools: garden snippers. Destination: tall hedges with brilliant red leaves. Result: beautiful centrepieces for the tables.
Of course, we'll have to find some time, probably after the event, to clean up what's been left in our wake as we dashed from one task to the next. This is the garage floor where the table arrangements were produced!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I was making signs with chalk and blackboards. The boards are 36" x 30" and will hang above the café table. They turned out quite well, if I do say so myself!
Now, it's quarter past midnight and I've just finished assembling nine posters, the edges of which needed trimming so the poster panels could be overlapped and taped.
All these jobs are more difficult than they first appear, and even if we correctly assess the difficulty right from the start, they always take longer than we first anticipated.
Tomorrow . . . well, it's actually already that day . . . will be a very busy day, with lots of to-ing and fro-ing, and with setbacks and upsets, no doubt. On the other hand, tomorrow night, when it's all over, and we're the last ones to leave the hall, we will be able to look back at the event and know that we did our best.
This kind of project, where family and friends all get involved, is a great way to teach kids about what it means to be in a family. A family supports you. A family helps you. A family bails you out. A family puts their heads together to come up with creative solutions for whatever problems crop up. A family works together right to the end.
That lesson is a valuable one.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Falling Behind
I have fallen. I've fallen seriously behind. I'm on a plan, sort of a spiritual diet--not a diet to lose "weight" but a diet to gain "weight." It's called The Bible in 90 Days, and I've fallen off the wagon.
I know why, too. I spent the last three nights stargazing with a friend (see previous blogs!) That ate up the better part of the evening, and there is only so much time in the day. Hmm . . . I see that I didn't even have time to turn the calendar page from September to October!
So here's what I'm going to do. I'm not going to throw in the towel. I'm going to get right back on track. The best way at the moment is to just start with today's reading and leave the stuff that I've missed for now. There are two days' grace at the end and maybe I can catch up then. Or maybe not. Maybe at the end of the 90 days, I'll just have to say, I read through the Bible in 90 days, except for 1 King 7:38-2 Kings 25:30.
Is that so terrible? I don't think so. I will be blessed for having read what I read, and . . . for having confessed what I didn't read.
I know I'm going to have to pray for the Holy Spirit's help, for extra energy, and for time management skills because in addition to this reading plan, I've just registered for another course: Systematic Theology 1. The reading list is formidable. If nothing else, I'll get some muscle carrying the books from the shelf to the desk. There are several tomes. Looks a bit scary . . . but I'm really looking forward to the challenge and the excitement of this new way of studying God's Word.
I might not have too much time to write my blog, though!
I know why, too. I spent the last three nights stargazing with a friend (see previous blogs!) That ate up the better part of the evening, and there is only so much time in the day. Hmm . . . I see that I didn't even have time to turn the calendar page from September to October!
So here's what I'm going to do. I'm not going to throw in the towel. I'm going to get right back on track. The best way at the moment is to just start with today's reading and leave the stuff that I've missed for now. There are two days' grace at the end and maybe I can catch up then. Or maybe not. Maybe at the end of the 90 days, I'll just have to say, I read through the Bible in 90 days, except for 1 King 7:38-2 Kings 25:30. Is that so terrible? I don't think so. I will be blessed for having read what I read, and . . . for having confessed what I didn't read.
I know I'm going to have to pray for the Holy Spirit's help, for extra energy, and for time management skills because in addition to this reading plan, I've just registered for another course: Systematic Theology 1. The reading list is formidable. If nothing else, I'll get some muscle carrying the books from the shelf to the desk. There are several tomes. Looks a bit scary . . . but I'm really looking forward to the challenge and the excitement of this new way of studying God's Word.
I might not have too much time to write my blog, though!
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Turning the Calendar Page
The beautiful weather we've had for the past week or so belies the fact that September is over. The warm temperatures and brilliant blue skies beckon through the classroom window, and today, we allowed ourselves to be enticed.
I took my writing class for a walk in the Community Forest. The students were instructed to collect something from the forest, at the very least some impressions, if not some realia. I collected a few specimens--moss, a few leaves, a pinecone--that can be used as the basis for a descriptive paragraph.
The smells and sights and sounds were all very fallish. Although it's not a very pleasant thought, the smell of death was all around us. Leaves and plants and grasses and weeds and flowers, all in some state of decay. Wild cranberries that smell like dirty socks and dying leaves that smell like bananas. Yu's shirt was the same yellow colour as the aspen leaves on the ground. The light played in and around the cottonwoods and the spruces, while birds and squirrels chirped and chattered away.
Ostensibly, the walk was to collect impressions to use as the basis for writing. Really, we were there for the sheer enjoyment of the experience.
I took my writing class for a walk in the Community Forest. The students were instructed to collect something from the forest, at the very least some impressions, if not some realia. I collected a few specimens--moss, a few leaves, a pinecone--that can be used as the basis for a descriptive paragraph.
The smells and sights and sounds were all very fallish. Although it's not a very pleasant thought, the smell of death was all around us. Leaves and plants and grasses and weeds and flowers, all in some state of decay. Wild cranberries that smell like dirty socks and dying leaves that smell like bananas. Yu's shirt was the same yellow colour as the aspen leaves on the ground. The light played in and around the cottonwoods and the spruces, while birds and squirrels chirped and chattered away.
Ostensibly, the walk was to collect impressions to use as the basis for writing. Really, we were there for the sheer enjoyment of the experience.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Dancing with the Stars!
Tonight, the temperature is a balmy 16 degrees, very pleasant for the last day of September. Not only was it warm, but the skies were clear. The night called to me, and I borrowed a pair of binoculars, called on a friend, and we went out stargazing once again.
Armed with the latest edition of Sky News, the Canadian backyard astronomy magazine, a small flashlight, a drawing of the Ursa major constellation, of which the Big Dipper, well-known to many, is only a part, we set out at about 10 p.m.
We were well-rewarded. The wide-sky country of this area does not disappoint. Constellations (and asterisms!) that had eluded me at other times jumped out like diamonds on black velvet: Auriga, lying close to the northeastern horizon; Draco, the dragon, twisting its way between the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper; Ursa Major; Pegasus, with its great square high in the southern sky; Aquila, the eagle; Delphinus, the dolphin, and, of course, the others that are already our friends—Cassiopeia, the Big Dipper, Polaris, the Summer Triangle, the Pleiades, and Cygnus, for example.
And yes, the Coat Hanger! I knew where it should be, and by scanning the area with the binoculars for several minutes, I found it! It’s formal name is Brocchi’s Cluster, but, really, it does look like a coat hanger.
Appreciating the natural world around us doesn’t have to be expensive, even though the ads in the magazines would convince us otherwise. There is so much to see even with the unaided eye. One thing that does make it more enjoyable: a friend to share it with.
Armed with the latest edition of Sky News, the Canadian backyard astronomy magazine, a small flashlight, a drawing of the Ursa major constellation, of which the Big Dipper, well-known to many, is only a part, we set out at about 10 p.m.
We were well-rewarded. The wide-sky country of this area does not disappoint. Constellations (and asterisms!) that had eluded me at other times jumped out like diamonds on black velvet: Auriga, lying close to the northeastern horizon; Draco, the dragon, twisting its way between the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper; Ursa Major; Pegasus, with its great square high in the southern sky; Aquila, the eagle; Delphinus, the dolphin, and, of course, the others that are already our friends—Cassiopeia, the Big Dipper, Polaris, the Summer Triangle, the Pleiades, and Cygnus, for example.
And yes, the Coat Hanger! I knew where it should be, and by scanning the area with the binoculars for several minutes, I found it! It’s formal name is Brocchi’s Cluster, but, really, it does look like a coat hanger.
Appreciating the natural world around us doesn’t have to be expensive, even though the ads in the magazines would convince us otherwise. There is so much to see even with the unaided eye. One thing that does make it more enjoyable: a friend to share it with.
Looking for the Coat Hanger
I went out last night around 9:30 and drove five minutes north of town to a dark area where the light pollution from the city was minimal. I pulled off the road and let my eyes become accustomed to the dark for a few minutes. Then I looked up at the heavens.
It was a breath-taking, glorious sight. The Milky Way meandered across the sky with such a dense cloud of stars that it was difficult to pick out the constellations against that backdrop. The stars of the Summer Triangle, easily visible from my back deck in town as the brightest stars in the southern sky, were lost among the dazzling array of other stars. I was looking for Brocchi's Cluster, commonly called the Coat Hanger because its ten stars are arranged in the shape of an upside-down coat hanger. It's found about a third of the way along a line joining Altair and Vega, two of the stars of the Summer Triangle.
I looked but couldn't isolate the cluster because of the brilliant mass of stars vying for my attention. I'm going to look again, this time with binoculars.
The best thing about last night's outing was that I was with two international students, both from Colombia. They were amazed at the sight of the Milky Way, which they had never seen before. They spotted Jupiter, bright in the southern sky, dipping below the horizon during the hour we were out. They found the Pleiades, which in Spanish is called the Rosario because of its resemblance to a string of rosary beads. Each of the students saw a "falling star." In addition, we saw a satellite plodding its path through the dark night sky.
Most enjoyable to me was the excitement in their voices. Viviana pointed out to Andrea the double star in the handle of the Big Dipper. They giggled and laughed and exclaimed. A rush of words in Spanish from one or the other clarified or asked a question.
They marvelled when I told them that God calls each star by name: "He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names" (Psalm 147:4). It is a demonstration of God's greatness and His infinite wisdom.
I just enjoyed their enjoying.
It was a breath-taking, glorious sight. The Milky Way meandered across the sky with such a dense cloud of stars that it was difficult to pick out the constellations against that backdrop. The stars of the Summer Triangle, easily visible from my back deck in town as the brightest stars in the southern sky, were lost among the dazzling array of other stars. I was looking for Brocchi's Cluster, commonly called the Coat Hanger because its ten stars are arranged in the shape of an upside-down coat hanger. It's found about a third of the way along a line joining Altair and Vega, two of the stars of the Summer Triangle.I looked but couldn't isolate the cluster because of the brilliant mass of stars vying for my attention. I'm going to look again, this time with binoculars.
The best thing about last night's outing was that I was with two international students, both from Colombia. They were amazed at the sight of the Milky Way, which they had never seen before. They spotted Jupiter, bright in the southern sky, dipping below the horizon during the hour we were out. They found the Pleiades, which in Spanish is called the Rosario because of its resemblance to a string of rosary beads. Each of the students saw a "falling star." In addition, we saw a satellite plodding its path through the dark night sky.
Most enjoyable to me was the excitement in their voices. Viviana pointed out to Andrea the double star in the handle of the Big Dipper. They giggled and laughed and exclaimed. A rush of words in Spanish from one or the other clarified or asked a question.
They marvelled when I told them that God calls each star by name: "He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names" (Psalm 147:4). It is a demonstration of God's greatness and His infinite wisdom.
I just enjoyed their enjoying.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
I Already Knew This About Myself
Today, at lunch time, I attended a time management seminar and found out many things I already knew about myself, as well as some things I didn't know and wasn't happy to find out!
First of all, the "P" word. That's Procrastination and all the cousins: procrastinate, procrastinator, procrastinated, procrastinting, procrastinatively, procrastinatingly, procrastinative, procrastinatory, and procrastinativeness. Whew! Who knew there were so many ways to put things off till tomorrow!?
In fact, that's the origin of this word: tomorrow; that's cras in Latin. Or, as my Spanish friend would say, "Manana!" The root idea is putting something off till tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. Why put off till tomorrow what you can put off till the next day? I believe this has been my motto of late.
For example, I had an assignment to do. I'd known about this assignment since the middle of August. I knew the deadline was September 19. Did I work on that assignment during those six weeks? Not one bit! I hadn't even chosen the topic that I would write on, so really, I wasn't even thinking about it.
True to my own inimitable pattern, however, I did finish and submit the assignment on time. Thursday night, September 18, I put aside all other projects that had arisen since and devoted myself to the assignment. When I finished, the essay had many marks of a desperate writer: introduction was a bit top-heavy, body paragraphs were a wee bit thin, and I was ready for the conclusion by the top of page 3.
So I asked myself today, "Why do I do this to myself?" If it were just once, I might put it down to some quirk of personality or schedule, but it is an oft-repeated pattern. I tell myself that it's because I do my best work under pressure, backed right up against a firm deadline.
The other possibility, looming large in my thoughts right now, is that, for as hard as I seem to be working all the time, I'm actually quite a lazy person. It's part of the human condition. (There! That makes me feel better!)
This brings me to my point: I have never considered procrastination to be a sin, but it is. That's the truth. We always tell those with whom we share the gospel not to put off surrendering their lives to Christ. If they hear the Holy Spirit speaking to them, don't put off being obedient; don't procrastinate.
This counsel is useful even after we have obeyed that first time. I myself need to heed this sound advice.
First of all, the "P" word. That's Procrastination and all the cousins: procrastinate, procrastinator, procrastinated, procrastinting, procrastinatively, procrastinatingly, procrastinative, procrastinatory, and procrastinativeness. Whew! Who knew there were so many ways to put things off till tomorrow!?
In fact, that's the origin of this word: tomorrow; that's cras in Latin. Or, as my Spanish friend would say, "Manana!" The root idea is putting something off till tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. Why put off till tomorrow what you can put off till the next day? I believe this has been my motto of late.
For example, I had an assignment to do. I'd known about this assignment since the middle of August. I knew the deadline was September 19. Did I work on that assignment during those six weeks? Not one bit! I hadn't even chosen the topic that I would write on, so really, I wasn't even thinking about it.
True to my own inimitable pattern, however, I did finish and submit the assignment on time. Thursday night, September 18, I put aside all other projects that had arisen since and devoted myself to the assignment. When I finished, the essay had many marks of a desperate writer: introduction was a bit top-heavy, body paragraphs were a wee bit thin, and I was ready for the conclusion by the top of page 3.
So I asked myself today, "Why do I do this to myself?" If it were just once, I might put it down to some quirk of personality or schedule, but it is an oft-repeated pattern. I tell myself that it's because I do my best work under pressure, backed right up against a firm deadline.
The other possibility, looming large in my thoughts right now, is that, for as hard as I seem to be working all the time, I'm actually quite a lazy person. It's part of the human condition. (There! That makes me feel better!)
This brings me to my point: I have never considered procrastination to be a sin, but it is. That's the truth. We always tell those with whom we share the gospel not to put off surrendering their lives to Christ. If they hear the Holy Spirit speaking to them, don't put off being obedient; don't procrastinate.
This counsel is useful even after we have obeyed that first time. I myself need to heed this sound advice.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Christian dandies
A dandy is a man who is overly concerned about his clothes and appearance. The origin is uncertain, but it's almost 250 years old, first coming into use around 1770. It's sort of an old-fashioned word, one we might expect to find in a play by Oscar Wilde. An up-to-date choice might be metrosexual. Regardless of which word we choose to express this idea, the point is the overconcern about externals.
Ephesians 6: 10-18 gives us a picture of a soldier ready to do battle:
10 Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.
11 Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.
12 For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
13 Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
14 Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness;
15 And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace;
16 Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.
17 And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God:
18 Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints;
(Click on the picture above to make it larger so you can read the description.)
In church on Sunday, we heard about this soldier. He knows how to use what he has. Both he and his armour are battle-ready and battle-tested. This is no Christian dandy soldier standing around looking sharp in his uniform. This is a man dressed to kill, so to speak. He's ready to do battle in the spiritual high places.
It's not enough to be dressed like soldiers--Christian dandies, just looking the part. We must battle-hardened. The only way to get that way is to fight like soldiers.
1 Peter 5:8 warns us to "Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour."
For sure, our enemy is no "dandy lion"!
Ephesians 6: 10-18 gives us a picture of a soldier ready to do battle:
10 Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. 11 Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.
12 For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
13 Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
14 Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness;
15 And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace;
16 Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.
17 And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God:
18 Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints;
(Click on the picture above to make it larger so you can read the description.)
In church on Sunday, we heard about this soldier. He knows how to use what he has. Both he and his armour are battle-ready and battle-tested. This is no Christian dandy soldier standing around looking sharp in his uniform. This is a man dressed to kill, so to speak. He's ready to do battle in the spiritual high places.
It's not enough to be dressed like soldiers--Christian dandies, just looking the part. We must battle-hardened. The only way to get that way is to fight like soldiers.
1 Peter 5:8 warns us to "Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour."
For sure, our enemy is no "dandy lion"!
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Keeping Short Accounts
When someone owes us money, we all know how anxiously we wait for payment. It might be from someone who's borrowed money from us or maybe it's from a business that we've done some work for. If we've done the work, then we expect to be paid in a timely fashion. If our ledgers are filled with too many accounts "over 30 days" or "over 60 days," then it's hard to run our own business. Business people know, too, that their chance of collecting goes down as the time increases.
On the other hand, if we're the ones who owe money to someone else, then we need to be sure to pay promptly! We need to keep short accounts.
This applies not only to money, but also in the area of friendships. If we feel hurt over something, we should go to the person who has offended us and tell him or her how we feel. We should do this in a humble and kind way, but not let a small thing grieve us and grow out of proportion to the original incident. This way, friendships are preserved and stress is avoided.
We also need to keep short accounts with God. When we sin, we need to confess it, repent of it, and move on through the power of the Holy Spirit, praying that He will keep us from that sin the next time we are tempted.
We cannot hide our sin from God. He knows. We don't confess it because He needs to know and if we don't, He'll be in the dark about what we've done. God is never in the dark. He doesn't need to learn because He already knows everything. The value in our confessing and repenting is for us. It's for our benefit.
Daily come to the Father and ask Him to search your heart. When He points something out, confess it. Keep short accounts with God.
On the other hand, if we're the ones who owe money to someone else, then we need to be sure to pay promptly! We need to keep short accounts.
This applies not only to money, but also in the area of friendships. If we feel hurt over something, we should go to the person who has offended us and tell him or her how we feel. We should do this in a humble and kind way, but not let a small thing grieve us and grow out of proportion to the original incident. This way, friendships are preserved and stress is avoided.
We also need to keep short accounts with God. When we sin, we need to confess it, repent of it, and move on through the power of the Holy Spirit, praying that He will keep us from that sin the next time we are tempted.
We cannot hide our sin from God. He knows. We don't confess it because He needs to know and if we don't, He'll be in the dark about what we've done. God is never in the dark. He doesn't need to learn because He already knows everything. The value in our confessing and repenting is for us. It's for our benefit.
Daily come to the Father and ask Him to search your heart. When He points something out, confess it. Keep short accounts with God.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Hard to believe!
I came home from work the other day, and as I rounded my house to go through the back gate, two different things came to my attention. One I heard. The other I saw. First, a man's voice. He was talking, having a conversation. Then, I saw him. He was jumping on the neighbour's trampoline. Talking on his cell phone.
This seemed to me to be the height of something. I suppose some would call it multitasking. Redeeming the time. Making the best and most use of every second. He couldn't just enjoy the sensation of jumping on the trampoline by itself.
In my view, this represented some small obsession with being in contact with others at every moment of the day and, probably, night. We have given ourselves over to the idea that we can't be out of touch with others at any time.
Hubert Dreyfus, professor of psychology at the University of California at Berkeley, has theorized and predicted that a life lived in cyberspace will strip human life of meaning, relevance, and the ability to distinguish the relevant and important from the nonrelevant and the trivial. His short book, On the Internet, contains dire predictions about human life lived online. On the air waves.
We used to joke about the guy at the office who spent so much time on the phone that he'd have to have the phone surgically removed from his ear. I think that day is coming closer for a lot of people. Only it won't be elective surgery--it will be a necessity.
This seemed to me to be the height of something. I suppose some would call it multitasking. Redeeming the time. Making the best and most use of every second. He couldn't just enjoy the sensation of jumping on the trampoline by itself.
In my view, this represented some small obsession with being in contact with others at every moment of the day and, probably, night. We have given ourselves over to the idea that we can't be out of touch with others at any time.
Hubert Dreyfus, professor of psychology at the University of California at Berkeley, has theorized and predicted that a life lived in cyberspace will strip human life of meaning, relevance, and the ability to distinguish the relevant and important from the nonrelevant and the trivial. His short book, On the Internet, contains dire predictions about human life lived online. On the air waves. We used to joke about the guy at the office who spent so much time on the phone that he'd have to have the phone surgically removed from his ear. I think that day is coming closer for a lot of people. Only it won't be elective surgery--it will be a necessity.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Summer's Over! (sigh!)
Life is busy for most people. We have jobs, family, friends, plus things to do, places to go, and people to see. We want to take time to deepen those relationships that are important to us, as well as find time to be healthy--eat well, reduce stress, and exercise physically and mentally.
One of the ways I like to exercise my mind is by reading. I always have a long list of books that I can't seem to get to--books that are waiting for me. They are patient! Reflecting on what I've read takes a bit of extra time, but I think it's time well spent.
One of my friends is a voracious reader. She takes stacks of books from the public library and wolfs them down like she's starving. I envy her (in a good way, of course!) Perhaps it's closer to the truth to say I am really happy for her that she has--and makes--the time to do something that she loves doing. She inspires me to put aside other things that can wait in order to enrich my life through the words of others.
I don't have a lot of time for reading, and I don't read a lot of fiction, but one book that totally stole me away from other duties was Year of Wonders, by Geraldine Brooks. It tells the story of an English village during 1665-1666, a year in which the plague struck the village. Under the guidance of the local pastor, the village quarantines itself from the outside world. The story is told through the voice of 18-year-old Anna Frith, a widow with two small sons, both of whom die of the plague. Her life is hard, her burdens are many . . . and the ending is . . . fantastical! I read this book in two sittings, staying up way past my bedtime to do it! I found new words, lots of history, and a solid sense that my life looks pretty good.
This is why I like reading: I invariably learn something about myself, my place in the world, and how to be. How to relate to those around me. How to have compassion on those who suffer. How to make room for those who need a voice.
Each book is a new adventure, a way to set sail on the sea of life. Bon voyage!
One of the ways I like to exercise my mind is by reading. I always have a long list of books that I can't seem to get to--books that are waiting for me. They are patient! Reflecting on what I've read takes a bit of extra time, but I think it's time well spent.
One of my friends is a voracious reader. She takes stacks of books from the public library and wolfs them down like she's starving. I envy her (in a good way, of course!) Perhaps it's closer to the truth to say I am really happy for her that she has--and makes--the time to do something that she loves doing. She inspires me to put aside other things that can wait in order to enrich my life through the words of others.
I don't have a lot of time for reading, and I don't read a lot of fiction, but one book that totally stole me away from other duties was Year of Wonders, by Geraldine Brooks. It tells the story of an English village during 1665-1666, a year in which the plague struck the village. Under the guidance of the local pastor, the village quarantines itself from the outside world. The story is told through the voice of 18-year-old Anna Frith, a widow with two small sons, both of whom die of the plague. Her life is hard, her burdens are many . . . and the ending is . . . fantastical! I read this book in two sittings, staying up way past my bedtime to do it! I found new words, lots of history, and a solid sense that my life looks pretty good. This is why I like reading: I invariably learn something about myself, my place in the world, and how to be. How to relate to those around me. How to have compassion on those who suffer. How to make room for those who need a voice.
Each book is a new adventure, a way to set sail on the sea of life. Bon voyage!
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Finishing Grade 2
At the end of June, my grandson finished grade two in the French Immersion program at one of the local elementary schools. Just as thousands of school kids all over, he brought home his report card, and we all read it with interest and many comments on his progress and success.
Then, from my treasure trove of Kept Items, I pulled out my grade two report card from exactly 50 years ago. My grandson was interested in everything about it, from the envelope it came in--with advertising from the Montreal City and District Savings Bank--to the different grading system used back them. I explained to him that for each subject we received two marks, one for achievement and one for effort. This meant that if you tried really hard but still didn't get everything right, you could get an A for effort and a B, for instance, in spelling or reading.
It's difficult for children to imagine their parents and grandparents as children, but here was tangible proof that I, too, had once been in grade two. I, too, had been eight years old. Having my report card to show my grandson made me happy that I'd had a mother who kept things for me, who didn't just look at my grade two report card and throw it out. It's a material part of our family history.
Thanks, Mom.
Then, from my treasure trove of Kept Items, I pulled out my grade two report card from exactly 50 years ago. My grandson was interested in everything about it, from the envelope it came in--with advertising from the Montreal City and District Savings Bank--to the different grading system used back them. I explained to him that for each subject we received two marks, one for achievement and one for effort. This meant that if you tried really hard but still didn't get everything right, you could get an A for effort and a B, for instance, in spelling or reading.
It's difficult for children to imagine their parents and grandparents as children, but here was tangible proof that I, too, had once been in grade two. I, too, had been eight years old. Having my report card to show my grandson made me happy that I'd had a mother who kept things for me, who didn't just look at my grade two report card and throw it out. It's a material part of our family history.
Thanks, Mom.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Hero or Fool?
Tonight, I watched a film about a young man who went into the wilderness of Alaska unprepared, and, as a result of mistakenly eating a poisonous plant, died of starvation. Based on a true story, the film plays up the freedom of the road that the young man experiences as he travels throughout the western States for more than a year and a half.
The film focuses on him, but others are brought into the story, those whose lives he "touched" as he traveled. Not too much is made of the situation of his parents and sister, all of whom he left behind.
Was he a saint, some kind of cult hero? Or was he a foolish, selfish, self-indulgent young man who couldn't get over certain incidents in his family background?
I would have to go with the latter choice. His family didn't know where he was for almost two years. He rejected their values, possessions, and, ultimately, them.
Yes, he had a kind side, and perhaps, in a certain way, a maturity beyond his years, but this doesn't give him sway to destroy the lives of his family. Many people have baggage that they bring with them from their family situations. Families today are combined and recombined, and it's not all good, but spreading the anguish doesn't help.
Christ is the answer for those who are hurting, for those with anguished hearts. He is touched with the feelings of our infirmities. We have a great High Priest who intercedes on our behalf with the Father. Let us bring our griefs to Him and be comforted by Him.
The film focuses on him, but others are brought into the story, those whose lives he "touched" as he traveled. Not too much is made of the situation of his parents and sister, all of whom he left behind.
Was he a saint, some kind of cult hero? Or was he a foolish, selfish, self-indulgent young man who couldn't get over certain incidents in his family background?
I would have to go with the latter choice. His family didn't know where he was for almost two years. He rejected their values, possessions, and, ultimately, them.
Yes, he had a kind side, and perhaps, in a certain way, a maturity beyond his years, but this doesn't give him sway to destroy the lives of his family. Many people have baggage that they bring with them from their family situations. Families today are combined and recombined, and it's not all good, but spreading the anguish doesn't help.
Christ is the answer for those who are hurting, for those with anguished hearts. He is touched with the feelings of our infirmities. We have a great High Priest who intercedes on our behalf with the Father. Let us bring our griefs to Him and be comforted by Him.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Spring is almost here!
I've turned the calendar page, and it's already three days into May! Today, I saw robins! Not right here in my yard, but their flight is unmistakeable. What a cheery sight. I also saw wild flowers--white crocuses, I think--peeking out from the dried grasses of last year. Two ducks and some geese winged their way overhead on their way to summer nesting grounds. Here, we're still waiting for that first flush of green, that tender, soft green of the first buds unfolding. That won't happen for another couple of weeks, and then, all along the highway, in every field, along every stream, the sight will be glorious!
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Another Week Flies By!
This past week has been very busy for me. I've been doing a lot of reading, a lot of walking on my treadmill, and generally, just trying to keep up with things or catch up with things.
I'm listening to the Bible on CD. I can do this at night before I go to bed, or when I'm doing the dishes after supper. If I'm folding or putting away laundry, it's an excellent way to make use of my mind while doing activities that are a bit mindless.
Here is a very useful link with solid teaching. I enjoy the ministry of R.C. Sproul; I am currently also watching several of his teaching series. Here's the link to TableTalk:
www.ligonier.org/tabletalk
Enjoy the reading; enjoy the teaching; may God bless you through it.
I'm listening to the Bible on CD. I can do this at night before I go to bed, or when I'm doing the dishes after supper. If I'm folding or putting away laundry, it's an excellent way to make use of my mind while doing activities that are a bit mindless.
Here is a very useful link with solid teaching. I enjoy the ministry of R.C. Sproul; I am currently also watching several of his teaching series. Here's the link to TableTalk:
www.ligonier.org/tabletalk
Enjoy the reading; enjoy the teaching; may God bless you through it.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
The Future is Now!
Recently, it was announced that Virgin Galactic, a division of the Virgin group of companies, owned by Sir Richard Branson, will offer tourist flights into space. The flights, which will launch from a special base in New Mexico, will last about two and a half hours and will provide about five minutes of weightlessness to the participants. Most than 150 people (mostly the rich and the famous) have already signed up to go. These include soap opera star Victoria Principal and physicist Stephen Hawking.
The reason the rich and the famous have signed up (well, at least it's the reason the rich have signed up) is because these flights cost $200,000 U.S. That's $80,000 an hour. At that rate, those five minutes of weightlessness will cost $6,666.66.
Although this price seems pretty high--more than $1,000 a minute--(who makes this kind of money? Maybe consultants?) I've experienced another kind of weightlessness the price of which far exceeds what Virgin Galactic will charge. When I stood at the Cross, and the burden of my heart rolled away, when my sins were lifted off me and placed on Jesus, when that happened, I felt weightless. I was no longer under the crushing weight and burden of my sin.
The price for this freedome was far greater than can be reckoned in dollars and cents. It was nothing less than the death of the Son of God. He gave His life that I might live.
This forgiveness yields the kind of weightlessness we all need to feel.
The reason the rich and the famous have signed up (well, at least it's the reason the rich have signed up) is because these flights cost $200,000 U.S. That's $80,000 an hour. At that rate, those five minutes of weightlessness will cost $6,666.66.
Although this price seems pretty high--more than $1,000 a minute--(who makes this kind of money? Maybe consultants?) I've experienced another kind of weightlessness the price of which far exceeds what Virgin Galactic will charge. When I stood at the Cross, and the burden of my heart rolled away, when my sins were lifted off me and placed on Jesus, when that happened, I felt weightless. I was no longer under the crushing weight and burden of my sin.
The price for this freedome was far greater than can be reckoned in dollars and cents. It was nothing less than the death of the Son of God. He gave His life that I might live.
This forgiveness yields the kind of weightlessness we all need to feel.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Dealing with Discouragement
Today, I saw two people who were discouraged about some things in their day. I felt for both of them because sometimes I'm discouraged, too. I feel as if my heart has been taken away, and that idea is pretty close to the original meaning of discourage. This word comes from the French for heart (coeur), and so to be discouraged is to lose heart; to be encouraged is to be enheartened.
As a matter of fact, I'm thinking about those two people because today I am a little discouraged after talking with a friend. I tried to give the best advice I could but I couldn't make my friend see what I was saying. That person didn't want to let go of one way of thinking to move on to another.
We can take heart from the scriptures, and God has a lot to say about the heart. Although my heart may be deceitful, God has given me a new heart and that heart is a heart after Him. It follows after Him and rejoices in His ways, His laws, His commandments.
Lord, help us to take heart and be encouraged in You.
As a matter of fact, I'm thinking about those two people because today I am a little discouraged after talking with a friend. I tried to give the best advice I could but I couldn't make my friend see what I was saying. That person didn't want to let go of one way of thinking to move on to another.
We can take heart from the scriptures, and God has a lot to say about the heart. Although my heart may be deceitful, God has given me a new heart and that heart is a heart after Him. It follows after Him and rejoices in His ways, His laws, His commandments.
Lord, help us to take heart and be encouraged in You.
Friday, January 18, 2008
A Day Away!
Today, we went skiing at Worsley, Alberta. It's not the Swiss Alps, as one student from Switzerland said, but I think everyone had a very good time. Some of the students skied and some snowboarded, but all of the students came in with high colour in their cheeks after a day on the hill.
I spent the day in the chalet, chatting with people as they came in for a rest and reading a book. I'd say it was more of a day of apres-ski, for me. I'm still recovering from the tobogganing incident back in November!
The fresh air was exhilarating and the during the drive, we saw many moose and deer and one wolf that dashed across the road in front of the bus. For the students, seeing wildlife is always a thrill.
It was lots of fun today, but judging from the number of tumbles those students took, especially the snowboarders, I think that when they go to get up in the morning, there will be some moans over the aching muscles.
I'm glad I sat this one out!
I spent the day in the chalet, chatting with people as they came in for a rest and reading a book. I'd say it was more of a day of apres-ski, for me. I'm still recovering from the tobogganing incident back in November!
The fresh air was exhilarating and the during the drive, we saw many moose and deer and one wolf that dashed across the road in front of the bus. For the students, seeing wildlife is always a thrill.
It was lots of fun today, but judging from the number of tumbles those students took, especially the snowboarders, I think that when they go to get up in the morning, there will be some moans over the aching muscles.
I'm glad I sat this one out!
Monday, January 14, 2008
Remembering Marilyn Monroe
On January 14, 1954, Marilyn Monroe married baseball great Joe DiMaggio, who was known as "the Yankee Clipper." For two years, their courtship had played to the romantic in American hearts everywhere, but, after January 14, they remained married for only nine months. Monroe went on to marry playwright Arthur Miller, and, then, in 1961, she died of an overdose of barbituates. I remember hearing that news, and being incredulous--it couldn't be! She was so beautiful; she was so rich; she was so famous.
Of course, that was the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Yet many around us have hidden wounds of the soul that even their close friends or family do not know about. Some have pressures in their lives that make them despair of ever getting out from under them.
Our calling, as friends, neighbours, sisters, wives, husbands, partners, brothers, parents--whatever relationships we find ourselves in--is to be kind, encouraging, and sensitive to those around us. We need to listen to what's being said and to what's not being said. Sometimes silences can speak louder than words. We need to make the chance to speak kindly often to each other. Pay a compliment to someone. Write a note to cheer someone. Stop and really listen after you ask, How are you?
. . . Love one another, for love is of God.
Of course, that was the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Yet many around us have hidden wounds of the soul that even their close friends or family do not know about. Some have pressures in their lives that make them despair of ever getting out from under them.
Our calling, as friends, neighbours, sisters, wives, husbands, partners, brothers, parents--whatever relationships we find ourselves in--is to be kind, encouraging, and sensitive to those around us. We need to listen to what's being said and to what's not being said. Sometimes silences can speak louder than words. We need to make the chance to speak kindly often to each other. Pay a compliment to someone. Write a note to cheer someone. Stop and really listen after you ask, How are you?
. . . Love one another, for love is of God.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Let It Go!
Sometimes, someone says something to us that offends us. It doesn't really matter what it is. It might be something about the way we look, the way our children look, or the way our house looks. Once those words fall on our ears, we take offense. Our feelings are hurt. Our pride is wounded. And that's the problem right there.
It's a matter of pride. That original sin in the original sin. The sin that keeps on rearing its head. As humans, we are so full of our own goodness and our own self-importance that when someone dares to say something against us or ours, we are ready to play that for all its worth.
We may talk it over with a friend, sounding them out about the situation. He or she in turn will probably feed our own feelings about the situation, fanning the flames instead of dousing the fire with water.
This year, starting today, we should let those things go. Give them up. Let go and let God deal with us about our own pride. Of course, we would rather that He deal with the other person who said the words that injured us. And He may do just that. But first, He may wish to deal with us.
Let's welcome the promptings of the Holy Spirit, the dealings of a merciful and gracious Father, and the blood of His Son that covers sin, even our pride.
It's a matter of pride. That original sin in the original sin. The sin that keeps on rearing its head. As humans, we are so full of our own goodness and our own self-importance that when someone dares to say something against us or ours, we are ready to play that for all its worth.
We may talk it over with a friend, sounding them out about the situation. He or she in turn will probably feed our own feelings about the situation, fanning the flames instead of dousing the fire with water.
This year, starting today, we should let those things go. Give them up. Let go and let God deal with us about our own pride. Of course, we would rather that He deal with the other person who said the words that injured us. And He may do just that. But first, He may wish to deal with us.
Let's welcome the promptings of the Holy Spirit, the dealings of a merciful and gracious Father, and the blood of His Son that covers sin, even our pride.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
It's Christmas All Over Again!
I know Christmas is over for another year (although driving past a friend's house this morning on the way to work, I noticed their Christmas tree still lighting up their living room window!), but a delivery card in my mailbox let me know that a parcel for me was waiting to be picked up at the post office. I went down after supper and yes, it was Christmas all over again! A box of books. Can there be anything better!
This delivery brought a treasure trove: The Geneva Bible, 1560 edition. Advertised as "the Bible of the Reformation," this Bible is a bit different from what we used to. Who knew that the letter "s" used to look like the letter "f" or that "v" looked like "u"? What this means is that "love" is "loue" and "bless" is "bleff." So it will take us a bit longer to get through this than perhaps we anticipated. The interesting thing about this edition, though, it that it contains notes in the margins by various Reformers. We think these annotations will be precious and revealing. (This book really was a Christmas present that didn't arrive in time!)
The other book was The Reformation: A History by Diarmid McCullough. I'm looking forward to reading this. It's quite hefty, but I want to make more time this year for reading.
The last thing I uncovered in the box was a five-set DVD on the history of the Bible and of the Reformation. These I plan on watching while walking on the treadmill. Talk about redeeming the time! The minutes and miles just flash by!
Although I receive lots of e-mail everyday at both my work e-mail and personal e-mail addresses, I'm still excited to receive a box of books from the post office!
This delivery brought a treasure trove: The Geneva Bible, 1560 edition. Advertised as "the Bible of the Reformation," this Bible is a bit different from what we used to. Who knew that the letter "s" used to look like the letter "f" or that "v" looked like "u"? What this means is that "love" is "loue" and "bless" is "bleff." So it will take us a bit longer to get through this than perhaps we anticipated. The interesting thing about this edition, though, it that it contains notes in the margins by various Reformers. We think these annotations will be precious and revealing. (This book really was a Christmas present that didn't arrive in time!)
The other book was The Reformation: A History by Diarmid McCullough. I'm looking forward to reading this. It's quite hefty, but I want to make more time this year for reading.
The last thing I uncovered in the box was a five-set DVD on the history of the Bible and of the Reformation. These I plan on watching while walking on the treadmill. Talk about redeeming the time! The minutes and miles just flash by!
Although I receive lots of e-mail everyday at both my work e-mail and personal e-mail addresses, I'm still excited to receive a box of books from the post office!
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Our Conscience, A Good Friend
God has given everyone a good friend. I'm not talking about Jesus, although He is a good and true friend, the friend that sticks closer than a brother (Prov. 18: 24). I'm talking about our conscience. Often we see this depicted in cartoons as two little beings on our shoulders, whispering in our ear. One is an angel, telling us to do something that we should, or not to do something that we shouldn't. The other is depicted as a little devil, complete with the red face, the little horns, the pointy tail, and a three-pronged pitchfork. This being is telling us, Go ahead! Do it! It won't matter! Satisfy yourself! . . . or whatever other words we want to hear.
The very fact that people have consciences is "proof" for God. People who don't have the law of God do by nature what is codified in the law of God. Why? Because of the conscience that God has given to us. Every society has ideas of what is right and wrong. Most agree, for instance, that murder is wrong. Most agree that incest is wrong. The Apostle Paul talks about this in the book of Romans.
When we hear the "still small voice," we need to heed it carefully. It's a friend that can keep us from sin. The Holy Spirit speaks to us through a tender conscience. We're warned in 1 Tim. 4: 2 about those who have their conscience seared. Burned over. It becomes unresponsive. In Rom. 1: 24, we read about people whom God "gave . . . up to uncleanness through the lusts of their own hearts" because they didn't listen when He spoke.
I want to be found always with a tender heart and a tender conscience toward the Lord. When the Holy Spirit speaks to me, I want to have ears to hear.
The very fact that people have consciences is "proof" for God. People who don't have the law of God do by nature what is codified in the law of God. Why? Because of the conscience that God has given to us. Every society has ideas of what is right and wrong. Most agree, for instance, that murder is wrong. Most agree that incest is wrong. The Apostle Paul talks about this in the book of Romans.
When we hear the "still small voice," we need to heed it carefully. It's a friend that can keep us from sin. The Holy Spirit speaks to us through a tender conscience. We're warned in 1 Tim. 4: 2 about those who have their conscience seared. Burned over. It becomes unresponsive. In Rom. 1: 24, we read about people whom God "gave . . . up to uncleanness through the lusts of their own hearts" because they didn't listen when He spoke.
I want to be found always with a tender heart and a tender conscience toward the Lord. When the Holy Spirit speaks to me, I want to have ears to hear.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
What's on your reading list for this year?
I always have several books on the go. They are stashed at various places around my house: the bedside table, the small table beside the couch in the living room, the bookshelf in the dining room--all these places are ports of call in my reading voyage.
One of the books I'm reading now is Bury the Chains: Prophets and Revels in the Fight to Free an Empire's Slaves. This is the story of the main personalities in the movement in Britain and America in the 1700s and 1800s to abolish the slave trade. This book was loaned to me by a friend after we watched the film, Amazing Grace, the story of William Wilberforce, also a major name in the abolitionist movement. The volume is a hefty 430 pages, and I wish I could just stay up all night to finish it, but I'm only on page 99, and even staying up all night, if that were possible, might not do it. So I'll fit in a chapter or two a day, here and there, and prolong the experience.
What's on your reading wish list for this coming year?
One of the books I'm reading now is Bury the Chains: Prophets and Revels in the Fight to Free an Empire's Slaves. This is the story of the main personalities in the movement in Britain and America in the 1700s and 1800s to abolish the slave trade. This book was loaned to me by a friend after we watched the film, Amazing Grace, the story of William Wilberforce, also a major name in the abolitionist movement. The volume is a hefty 430 pages, and I wish I could just stay up all night to finish it, but I'm only on page 99, and even staying up all night, if that were possible, might not do it. So I'll fit in a chapter or two a day, here and there, and prolong the experience.
What's on your reading wish list for this coming year?
Friday, January 4, 2008
It's a new year, and I'm set to blog!
I'm set on a great path for the year, and I feel very optimistic. I have a list of things that I'm going to accomplish in 2008, and I am going to be steady in my resolve to keep my eyes on the goal. Writing is one of my goals and blogs are a great way to do this. Those who know me and saw my list for 2007 will probably note that some of the items from that list have been forwarded on to my 2008 list. That's right! If at first I don't succeed, I keep trying!
Over the holidays, we had some wonderful times with family and friends. Of course, there was lots of "stuff," too. Stuff for the little kids and stuff for the big kids. We want to remember the reason for the season. Giving gifts is a way to show our love and care for each other. God gave us the gift of His Son. It was His way of showing His love for us. Christ came, and then, "while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" (Rom. 5: 8). This was also God's way of showing His love toward us.
I'm excited about the opportunities that are before me as the new year starts off. One of the things on my to-do list is to memorize a verse a week. I pray that the Holy Spirit will guide me in my selection and memorization of these verses.
Set yourself some goals. Aim high. Take courage!
Over the holidays, we had some wonderful times with family and friends. Of course, there was lots of "stuff," too. Stuff for the little kids and stuff for the big kids. We want to remember the reason for the season. Giving gifts is a way to show our love and care for each other. God gave us the gift of His Son. It was His way of showing His love for us. Christ came, and then, "while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" (Rom. 5: 8). This was also God's way of showing His love toward us.
I'm excited about the opportunities that are before me as the new year starts off. One of the things on my to-do list is to memorize a verse a week. I pray that the Holy Spirit will guide me in my selection and memorization of these verses.
Set yourself some goals. Aim high. Take courage!
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