"It takes a village" lived out before my eyes...

The image will forever be etched in my memory. It was beautiful, truly beautiful. A grieving mother standing before her family and friends at the funeral of her 28-year-old son who tragically took his life. Grieving friends, her husband and her other children standing with her literally supporting her fragile frame. A grieving young son, who is one of our students, embracing his mother completely with his head nestled in her bosom. As she spoke, tears flowed freely and honestly down her face. What I saw next is the memory I will never forget.

Our student, who is very mischievous at school, took the kleenex he was holding in his hand and gently wiped away his mother's tears. Tears are flowing down my face as I write this! The bond of love between this son and mother was so powerful it filled the entire room permeating deep into our souls.

This funeral was the most honest funeral I have been to. It was beautiful! They freely shared their pain with us about their son and why he took his own life. The Pastor spoke beautiful words of hope and not condemnation.

It was my first Jamaican funeral. Let me tell you, I loved every minute of it, which I know sounds strange in light of this tragedy! I truly saw lived out before my eyes the old Nigerian proverb, "It takes a village to raise a child." This funeral had a profound effect on me. I want to be part of this village. Actually, I AM part of this village! I loved the music! I loved how these people communicated between each other when they sang and loved how they communicated between each other when the pastor gave his message! There was no fear or inhibitions, yet they maintained a reverence that filled that room with peace. I LOVED how when they sang the final hymn, "Farther Along," they meant every word. It came from a deep place within them which stirred my heart to sing and stirred my body to move with the same gumption! I didn't care that tears were pouring down my face. I was part of this village now! I also knew without a doubt, our boy would be okay. His village would continue to take care of him.

I know when living in community, things are not always perfect, but this culture has something special my culture does not have. I think that is why I was profoundly affected by what I witnessed that day. Don't get me wrong, I have a wonderful supportive family, supportive church and wonderful supportive friends. It is just different and that is okay. But I just love how this culture truly believes and lives out the Nigerian proverb, "It takes a village to raise a child." I hope we can learn something from this wisdom! I feel honoured to have been privy to this beautiful funeral filled with hope and peace.

PS I tell my Caribbean students that I am part of their "village" now so they have to listen to me! They don't know I'm part black inside! Look out world!

PSS I was also excited to be privy to the Jamaican food after the funeral! Curried goat and jerk chicken were on the menu and I bravely ate every morsel!

a bold memorial

I saw something today that made me stop and turn my car around. I wanted to take a closer look. It was a memorial. One that no doubt is controversial, but worth pausing to reflect and remember.

In the shadow of the large maple tree looming high above the catholic church hall, there stood a white, wooden cross. An abundantly colourful wildflower garden surrounded the cross. In the middle, nailed to that cross, was a yellow sign with black bold lettering which proclaimed:

"In honour of those who lost their lives due to abortion."


I realize the abortion issue is a controversial one , even to those reading my blog. I am pro- life. I make no bones about it. However, I make no judgement upon those who are pro-choice. Realistically, if I am to be honest with myself, I have no idea what decision I would make if I was suddenly raped and left pregnant. I would hope I would chose life, but I can't be 100% certain.

Life is a miracle. More and more I am utterly amazed at how intricately detailed God has designed our bodies to be alive and to create life. A couple months back I went to the Body Worlds exhibit with my school. I found it to be a fascinating exhibit. I learned so much and, being a visual learner I was in my glory. It clearly showed me how truly amazing our human body is and how the design of it fits together perfectly. It confirmed in my mind God is an amazing Creator.

The one area that intrigued me the most was seeing the babies (fetuses) as young as 5 weeks (I believe) right up to 40 weeks. I stood and stared for a long time marvelling at these precious babies standing only 1 cm tall- they WERE babies with fingernails, eyelashes, smiles on their faces, etc. It saddened me as well to know these babies were children of parents out there who lost them far too young. It was a poignant moment for me. But one that affirmed life begins at conception. Truly a miracle. Life is precious.

So how does one respond to a bold, powerful memorial declaring to those that pass by, life is precious choose wisely, remember the innocent ones who didn't have the opportunity to experience life here on earth?

My response. A prayer for the families and then I thanked God for the life He has allowed me to live. May I continue to live it wisely.

Bosom Buddies

("After the storm passed by," Bangor Country Club, Northern Ireland, July 2008)

Anne tipped the vase of apple blossoms near enough to bestow a soft kiss on a pink-cupped bud, and then studied diligently for some moments longer.

"Marilla," she demanded presently, "do you think that I shall ever have a bosom friend in Avonlea?'

"A--what kind of friend?"

"A bosom friend--an intimate friend, you know--a really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my inmost soul. I've dreamed of meeting her all my life. I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will too. Do you think it's possible?"

(Anne of Green Gables)

It comes from out of no where. When we least expect it. Life is strange that way. However, ironically life prepares us for this moment. The moment when we have to briefly step out of our self-absorbed world taking the focus off our life and its craziness and step into the world of our close circle, our bosom friends, supporting, encouraging, protecting them through their adversities. It is not the time to abandon their plight. It is the time we muster the courage to see them through to the other side.

Several beautiful souls in my circle are in the "winter of their discontent." Their angst resonates in my spirit. But, now is the time for me to support them in the ways they need supporting. It is the time for me to give them the freedom to be. No pressures. It is the time for me to pray. It is the time for me to remind them I love them and will never abandon their side.

They are resilient. They are invincible. They WILL make it to the other side of this brokenness.
Mended, strengthened, renewed. Ready for the adventure that awaits! This is the moment life prepared me to live.

Acquiring Wisdom at a Funeral

"You learn more at a funeral than at a feast - After all, that's where we'll end up. We might discover something from it."

(Ecclesiastes 7:2 The Message)

(Pere Lachaise Cemetery, Paris, March 2007)

Gazing around at the congregation seated for Doug's funeral, I noticed something unique. Multi-generations were gathered together to celebrate the life of this 82-year old man. Even though Doug was in the generation ahead of mine, my friends and I came to bid farewell to one of the "spiritual giants" who influenced our lives.

My church community is like family to me, so I grieve the loss of these dear souls like Doug, who came alongside me when I was just a tiny baby and helped nurture my spiritual life in a bevy of ways. I am grateful. I am blessed. I am sad to say goodbye. But, this is part of life and as the Quester says, it's where we all end up.

It was a lovely funeral - which seems like an oxymoron- where I did glean from the age-old "wisdom" of the elders in my life.

I learned ...

my dad wants his ashes to be put in a Tim Hortons coffee tin,

and he wants my mom's ashes put in her famous fudge pan,

Okay, maybe that is not a tidbit of wisdom but, I learned the "age -ed" lose their inhibitions but keep their sense of humour! Maybe that is one secret for staying young!

I learned...

that people survive the grief and in most cases are doing just fine.

I learned...

I do not need to fear being left alone because I belong to a wonderful church community that comes alongside and helps those in need. In addition, I have an incredible circle of friends and extended family that will make sure I am looked after! I love the strength in community. I learned I cannot forget the bounty in my life. I learned I must never forget that God is with me and will never leave me alone. I am thankful.

I learned...

it is important to listen to the stories told by the elderly. I learned you may discover something new about your world! I heard a familiar story, but from the perspective of a third party, which provided a new piece of information about my life. I was 10-months old when my mom, along with her parents took their first trip back to Northern Ireland since they immigrated to Canada. My mom says she was torn leaving me home with my dad but needed to take this final trip with her aging parents before they died. ( My Grandpa died 2 years later)

This lady at the funeral began to share with me how she remembers my dad bringing me to church all by himself. She remembers being impressed with how great he was with such a small baby. Remember that was back in the late 60's when the roles of men and women were very different! One thing I admire about my father is how he always equally shared the duties of the household! And, to this day he has an amazing gift with children!

I learned...

the secret to staying young is to never stop loving Jesus, continue to study scripture, surround yourself with young people, eat healthy, get enough sleep, exercise, always have something to do, and never lose your sense of humour.

A lovely funeral indeed. A "feast" of wisdom and memories.

I will miss you Doug, especially seeing you sitting on that bench just inside the doors of the church greeting us, hugging us, making us feel loved and cared for. Maranatha!

Lessons from the Quester

***PREFACE I never know how my story will end when I begin penning my thoughts. I was going to go in a totally different direction when I sat down today to write. But, the following story is what came out of me. I feel scripture speaks for itself and decided I didn’t need to say anything. I have been reading through Ecclesiastes in my prayer times. These are the verses that spoke to my heart. In an odd way, I am left speechless, letting the words of God soak into my being, so I know how to let them ooze out. Futility/mortality, the theme of Ecclesiastes, has been on my mind as of late, for many reasons. Thus, my desire to read the wisdom from the Quester. Ecclesiastes sweeps our souls clean so we can give our full attention to God revealed in Jesus Christ. It is a cleansing, a call to repentance. And once the cleansing is complete, we are ready for reality-for God. I once read somewhere that in order to fully appreciate life, we must begin with death. ( this is my paraphrase from I think, the Dali Lama! If anyone knows the exact quote please let me know!)
I fear death. More specifically, I fear my parent’s death, not my own. I have no idea why. I have a secure faith. I know I will see them again one day in heaven. I think the real issue is that I fear being left alone. I am afraid no one will look after me in my old age. Which sounds absurd because I have this wonderful community of friends and extended family whom I know will look out for me. I know God is my provider, loves me and will take care of my needs. Sigh. I need to face the fear and let it go. Look at me, I’m not speechless anymore am I?! Without further adieu, let the words of scripture be medicine to your soul. And enjoy the story at the end. It came out of me too. I was planning on ending the post before “ Honourable mention…” I love where this writing journey takes me! ***

Ecclesiastes Greek word translated as ‘the preacher’ or ‘the teacher’

“People come into this world with nothing, and when they die they leave with nothing. In spite of all their hard work, they leave just as they came.”

Ecclesiastes 5:15

“I looked at what I had done, and I thought about all the hard work. Suddenly I realized it was useless, like chasing the wind. There is nothing to gain from anything we do here on earth.”

Ecclesiastes 2:11

“Still, anyone selected out for life has hope…the living at least know something, even if it’s only that they’re going to die…SEIZE LIFE! Eat bread with gusto, drink wine with a robust heart. Oh yes-God takes pleasure in your pleasure! Dress festively every morning. Don’t skimp on colours and scarves [written just for me]! Each day is God’s gift. It’s all you get in exchange for the hard work of staying alive.”
Ecclesiastes 9

“Be generous: Invest in acts of charity. Charity yields high returns. Don’t hoard your goods; spread them around. Be a blessing to others. This could be your last night…don’t stare at the clouds, get on with your life. Just as you’ll never understand the mystery of life forming in a pregnant woman, so you’ll never understand the mystery at work in all that God does…Take delight in each light-filled hour, remembering that there will also be many dark days…”

Ecclesiastes 10

“Honour and enjoy your Creator while you’re still young, before the years take their toll and your vigor wanes…In old age, your body no longer serves you so well…yes, you’re well on your way to eternal rest, while your friends make plans for your funeral. Life, lovely while it lasts, is soon over.

Life as we know it, precious and beautiful, ends. The body is put back in the same ground it came from. The spirit returns to God, who first breathed it…

The last and final word is this:

FEAR GOD
Do what He tells you.

And that’s it. Eventually God will bring everything that we do out into the open and judge it according to its hidden intent, whether it’s good or evil.”

Ecclesiastes 12

Today, I remember those special ones in my life who made their mark here on earth, who seized life, who feared and obeyed God, but now have returned to the Breath of Life.

Honourable mention goes out to a dear soul, Doug Churchill, who knew me since my birth. In fact, we were distantly related- a fellow Newfoundlander. Doug was ushered into the arms of Jesus on Friday. There are many fond memories I could share about Doug but the one that stands out is this:

***WARNING - eyes may roll, lips may smile, cheeks may blush, brains may even wonder why on earth I would choose this memory to pen in blogland. I was on the threshold of a new stage in my life. Doug was part of it whether he liked it or not. He was supportive in a quiet way. He was non -judgemental and didn’t ask questions. He showed sensitivity in my hour of need. I was grateful. I’m not sure what Doug would think of me penning this particular memory, but I wanted to honour the joke-ster in him today! ***

The year was 1983. It was a hot & humid summer day, the kind where the sweat rolls off you incessantly. Not a cloud in sight, just an expanse of baby blue sky. I, along with my mom and dad, were in the backseat of Doug’s HUGE car. (I forget the model but know it had to be a General Motors product!) We were on our way up to Doug and his wife Leila’s cottage on Balsam Lake for the day. It happened to be the day when I “ became a woman,” if you catch my drift! I was a late bloomer so was ecstatic my period FINALLY arrived. That was until the intense pain took control of my body! What was happening to me. I didn’t like being a woman anymore. I had to have Doug stop at every gas station along the route so I could use the facilities. Knowing how most men like to travel – no stops- I appreciate Doug’s willingness to accommodate this poor teenage girl in pain. I was initially embarrassed. But, the embarrassment was long forgotten with the reality of pain. We eventually made it to the cottage. I don’t actually remember the rest of the day, but do know I always had a wonderful time in both summer and winter up at the lake. So, I assume that day was no exception. Every month, even to this day, I have a flashback to that eventful roadtrip!

Seize life!

**all scripture from The Message**

**photos: 1) newborn baby, 1day old, July 2008, Northern Ireland

2) Amish cemetery, August 2007, Lancaster, PA, USA ***

Last link

**UPDATED PHOTOS **

"If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance."

George Bernard Shaw

Traipsing through the charming Fermanagh, Northern Ireland countryside in search of my ancestry brings joy to my soul. Linking to my past is essential for me to understand part of who I am and why my family functions in the manner it does. I embrace the "skeletons" as well as the honour my family embodies in the community.

Archie Crozier lived on the farm across the road from my maternal grandfather's farm until his death yesterday. He was my last link to my grandfather's family. No more yarns while sipping tea nestled in front of the peat -stoked fire in his cozy, warm kitchen. I adore the scent of the peat fires diffusing through the crisp air of Northern Ireland. Breathing in this essence is refreshing and makes me feel alive.

The peat, or "turf " fields

The village hasn't really changed from when my grandfather was born back in 1898. This amazes me, especially coming from a city in such a young country that is constantly changing and growing. I can't describe how it felt to walk the same roads my grandfather walked. To wander around my grandfather's farm which is still basically the same - only a few minor renovations have been made, like thatched roofs on the barns were replaced with tin. The stone farmhouse has been mended and is still perched on the hill overlooking the village of Kilskerry. The lush, green rolling hills separated by stone walls are a sight to behold. Breathtaking. I can visualize my grandfather guiding his donkey, loaded with bails of hay, up the long, winding drive to the barn.

I found a pic of this winding drive up to my grandfather's farm. It was taken from the car in the pouring rain. This entrance is right across the road from the entrance to Archie's farm.

Once again another photo taken from the car due to the pouring rain. My grandfather's farm is the cream house in the distance. These pictures do not capture the beauty of this countryside. In past visits to Northern Ireland, I took some wonderful photos - before digital. I was able to capture the view from the farm which is phenomenal! Maybe I will scan them one day:)

The train station, Bundoran Junction, where my grandfather caught the train to the seaside is still standing. The tracks are gone, but I can still hear the sound of the steam engine pulling out of the station crowded with excited passengers headed for a day at the sea.

The Church of Ireland cemetery is home to two of my great aunts and one great uncle who all died as young children. My grandfather never spoke of these siblings. I made this discovery from browsing through the church records at the Manse.

One thing I have observed about the Irish, or maybe it is just my family, is even though they are incredibly friendly and hospitable, they are also very private. My grandparents rarely spoke of the "old country." Thus the reason why I so enjoyed my visits with Archie Crozier. Between his yarns about the family scandals and the information I found in the church records, I was able to fit the last piece of the puzzle together.

According to Archie, the reason my grandfather, his brother and his father immigrated to Canada in the late 1920's was to flee from the IRA. They were all part of the "B-Special's," which were a reserve police force, predominantly protestant, who defended Northern Ireland from the IRA terror campaign. Apparently, my great-grandfather was a Magistrate who had prosecuted some members of the IRA. His life was now is danger. So, Canada was the safe haven!! Scandalous!

I loved this link to my lineage. Archie was quite the character. Maybe you can catch a glimpse of his "badness" from my pictures!! He lived his 96 years well! I will miss him. I am grateful I had the opportunity to visit him last summer. I will cherish those moments.

Archie and I in his kitchen - July 2008! This is the same farm across the road from my grandfather's home farm! It hasn't really changed either! You can even see the Canadian tray I brought him sitting on his table!



Here's to dancing skeletons!!

In memory...

We lost a saint today. (Saturday December 13, 2008) Yet this faithful servant of Jesus gained her reward today: meeting her Saviour face to face.

( taken at Helene's 90'th birthday party, Calvary Baptist Church, Oshawa, ON, December 8, 2008)

Helene Connaty. (Always Mrs. Connaty to me!) December 6, 1918 - December 14, 2008. "Prayer Warrior" extraordinaire.

I have been blessed to be raised in a church community where the older generation were (and still are) committed, faithful prayer warriors. I am indebted to them for their support over the years.

My first memory of Mrs. Connaty praying for us was in her kindergarten Sunday School class. We would sit cross -legged on the floor, eagerly anticipating the flannelgraph Bible story about to be told!

Over the years, I knew Mrs. Connaty and the others were faithfully praying for us young people. I didn't fully appreciate the ramifications until I was a missionary with Youth For Christ in Edmonton, Alberta - a LONG way from home!


Mrs. Connaty headed up the "Ladies Mission Circle" at the church. This little group of dedicated ladies would meet weekly to make practical gifts for all the missionaries our church supported. In addition, they would write letters to the missionaries and most importantly, would take the time to pray for us. Those letters and prayers were cherished more than they probably realized. These prayer warriors played a key role in the ongoing relationship I still continue to have with some of those high school students I worked with at Youth For Christ back in the '90's. TOGETHER we made a difference!

One thing Mrs. Connaty is known for is her quilt making. She had the "Ladies Mission Circle" make a quilt for every missionary. I was the proud recipient of one of these beautiful quilts. You can see it in the picture below. (Unfortunately, it is the only picture I have of the quilt as it is tucked away in my cedar chest!) Every stitch was crafted with love, tears, age-old wisdom, strength, sacrifice, laughter and prayer. It is a poignant reminder to me of their faithful devotion to Jesus. Shamefully, I am not as consistent in my prayers and encouragement for the younger generation at my church. A New Year's resolution? Definitely! I do hope the younger generation sees Jesus reflected in my life.

(circa, 1997, Edmonton, AB. One of my YFC students and I sitting on Mrs. Connaty and the Ladies Mission Circle's quilt)

What will happen when these prayer warriors are gone? Who will take their place?

I had the privilege of attending Mrs. Connaty's 90th birthday celebration, six days before she died. Surrounded by these prayer warriors, I decided I better capture the moment on film.

Here are some of the remarkable men and women who helped shape me into the woman I am today...

Mrs. Nanckievill, a precious gem, singing and playing her accordion at Mrs. Connaty's 90th birthday - another favourite childhood memory of mine - it was a treat! Mr. and Mrs. Nanckievill hosted many a youth event at their home. They were always so gracious!


Mrs. Connaty enjoying every moment of her celebration!

She always had to have the last word!! Here she is cutting her cake.

Mrs. Connaty's daughter Joanne. My former babysitter:)

Mrs. Lambshed, one of our Pastor's wives, befriended me. Pastor Wally Mills. Pastor Wally was one of the chaplains at our local hospital, so one summer I was his "assistant." What an incredible learning experience!

Mabel Matheson. She was our church secretary for YEARS!

Mrs. Santos, another one of my Sunday School teachers.

Mrs. Grant was one of my Pioneer Girls Club leaders.

Mrs. Bykiv was one of my Vacation Bible School teachers.

Mary Bond (left) was one of my Day Camp Directors when I was a camper and a staff member. Mrs. Hooper (right) was my Sunday School teacher and Pioneer Girl's Club leader.

Thank You

(Words and Music by Ray Boltz)

I dreamed I went to heaven

And you were there with me

We walked upon the streets of gold

Beside the crystal sea

We heard the angels singing

Then someone called your name

You turned and saw this young man

And he was smiling as he came

And he said, Friend

You may not know me now

And then he said, But wait

You used to teach my Sunday School

When I was only eight

And every week you would say a prayer

Before the class would start

And one day when you said that prayer

I asked Jesus in my heart

CHORUS:

Thank you for giving to the Lord

I am a life that was changed

Thank you for giving to the Lord

I am so glad you gave

Then another man stood before you

And said remember the time

A missionary came to your church

And his pictures made you cry

You didn't have much money

But you gave it anyway

Jesus took the gift you gave

And that's why I am here today

CHORUS

One by one they came

Far as the eye could see

Each life somehow touched

By your generosity

Little things that you had done

Sacrifices made

Unnoticed on the earth

In heaven now proclaimed

And I know up in heaven

You're not supposed to cry

But I am almost sure

There were tears in your eyes

As Jesus took your hand

And you stood before the Lord

He said, My child look around you

Great is your reward

CHORUS

I am so glad you gave

Thank You my faithful prayer warriors!