The Canvas

The Canvas
The universe a canvas

The creator

Opens the heavens

     Light shines down 

          Colors swirl. 

Life breaths into the openness 

Time pauses as clouds are splashed across the horizon-

Where heaven touches earth. 

Heaven reaching down

Streaming in shades of indescribable glory. 

Time dissolved, 

Changing. 

     Evolving.

          Glowing. 

The vast prairies bathed in golden hues

Warm orange melting to yellow and pink as the day draws to a close. 

The earth, stilled 

Silence sneaks in.

Darkness envelopes-

The end unfolds

Yet doesn't totally unravel 

Slivers of new light 

Whispers of hope

     Warm with life 

          Glowing with promise. 

Relentless. 

Breaking the dark barriers

     Shattering the silence. 

Like the tide coming in,

The sun flows over the land. 

Flooding the shadows

Revealing all that was hidden

Washing it clean

Restoring the brokenness 

Making it new. 

     Warming. 

          Encouraging growth. 

Opening wide,

Reaching,

     Yearning for the heavens. 

Pausing, 

Waiting. 

Trusting. 

The creator reaches down

Love flows, 

Life is breathed out

From the heavens

And covers the earth. 

 Inspired during a walk along the dike west of town.  I looked up, and the clouds looked like they had been painted across the blue blue sky with a paint brush- dabbed here and there.  Written May, 2015.

$3.50 Buys A Lot of Good News!

Last night we read part of the Empower Ministries newsletter. It talked about 1000 new believers in Ethiopia who were gathered on the countryside worshiping and praying together. In the midst of their worship, news broke out that there were New Testaments available that were written in their native language.  However, there were only 200 copies available. Chaos and panic struck the group as everyone rushed to get a copy. One man yelled out that he would do anything to get a copy of God's Word for his family. And as we read this, Meski couldn't believe they don't have access to a Bible. She quickly offered to send hers!  But as we discussed the reasons why that wouldn't be a good idea  (the cost to send it and the language problem), her eyes got bigger and she raced off for her money jar.  We continued reading through stories of new believers and new churches, all in need of copies of the Good News. At the end we found out it costs $3.50 to provide a copy of the Bible. Three dollars and fifty cents. Less than a jug of milk in Canada. Meski began counting her spending money. $3.50. Enough for one Bible in Amharic. Her eyes shone and she asked if she had enough for another Bible.

Meski's generous heart was not content to only send money for one Bible. Before bed she prayed for more people to send money for Bibles.  And she prayed that her special people back in the village she was born in would have Bibles and be able to read them.  And so we wonder who else might have $3.50 that they'd like to send to buy a copy of God's Word for our people in Ethiopia. We will gladly give you the address/info for Empower Ministries or will send it in for you.

or go to empowerministries.ca for more info,
or http://www.empowerministries.ca/donate-project/Ethiopia to donate ($3.50 for a Bible and $1.2 for a New Testament).

Grace like Rain Falls Down on Me

I was sitting in my hot tub last night in the rain.  Often I see rain as negative because the pressure systems that come with rain usually make my body ache.  However, this time, as I sat in my sanctuary and refuge, the rain fell on me, cool and refreshing as I soaked in the warm water of the tub.  And as it fell, I was reminded of the song "Grace Like Rain" (see below).  Physically I was alone in the tub, but I knew that the presence of the Holy Spirit was there and I felt secure, at peace, covered in something holy.  It was like His grace was falling like rain and was covering me.  Washing away my sin.  Grace.  Something I don't deserve.  Something I can't earn.  A gift.

I looked up what grace meant after writing that to be sure I was right in what I'd been reminded about and I was struck by the the first definition from Merriam-webster.com: 

Grace:

a :  unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification

b :  a virtue coming from God

c :  a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine grace 

Unmerited.  A virtue coming from God.  A state of sanctification enjoyed through divine grace.  That is what I want more of.  That is what I want to cover me.  While everything around me tells me to do more, to be more, to try to save myself, this grace leaves me in wonder and awe.  And, Easter is coming where I celebrate that Jesus died and rose, paying for my sin and inviting me to a life in heaven after this life, a life that never ends.  And that takes grace to a deeper place.  He did that for me.  Nothing I can do will ever equal what He did nor be enough.  I deserve death because of my sins, But God loves us so much that His son died for us.  There's no way can I ever earn or come to deserve this gift.  In Ephesians 1:7 it says "Because of the sacrifice of the Messiah, his blood poured out on the altar of the Cross, we're a free people- free of penalties and punishments chalked up by our misdeeds. And not just barely free, either. Abundantly free!" (the Message).  Grace.

Hallelujah Grace like rain fall over me.  Hallelujah all my stains are washed away,  They are washed away!

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—

and this is not from yourselves, 

it is the gift of God.

 (Ephesians 2:8)  

 

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
And I once was lost but now I'm found
Was blind but now I see so clearly

And Hallelujah, grace like rain
Falls down on me
And Hallelujah and all my stains
Are washed away, they're washed away

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace my fears relieved
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed

And Hallelujah, grace like rain
Falls down on me
And Hallelujah and all my stains
Are washed away, they're washed away

When we've been there, ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun
We've no less days to sing Your praise
Than when we first begun

And Hallelujah, grace like rain
Falls down on me
And Hallelujah and all my stains
Are washed away

And Hallelujah, grace like rain
Falls down on me
And Hallelujah and all my stains
Are washed away, they're washed away

And Hallelujah
And Hallelujah
And Hallelujah
And Hallelujah all my stains
Are washed away, they're washed away

Songwriters
Todd Wilson Agnew;Christopher Collins

Sonshine On My Face, Joy In My Heart.

The sun has just broken through the cloudy sky and is bathing the earth in hope.  The sky in the background is still dark, foreboding and dreary yet there is a ray of mercy as the sun's power lights up my surroundings.  And so it is in my head.  I've been living in a heavy swell of a sinus infection and respiratory virus that does not want to let go.  I've also had a hard two months with new symptoms and struggles physically.  I'm thankful for our medical system because yesterday I finally went in and have started a dose of antibiotics and steroids the will clear this infection and inflammation that my body alone could not fight. 

The sun is like a whisper of encouragement to my weary heart.  It stirs something in me.   I begin to feel it take hold and sparks hope.  The subtle clearing in my head as the pain begins to subside allows me to reason and know that I will make it.  Things will be ok.  There is hope that this too will heal and pass.  I wait for opening of my airways and feel the freedom from the holds of this infection.  I am unsure where one illness starts and the other ends.  They all tangle together and leave me confused as to what is causing what and what is new or could be treated with meds.  I do not identify myself by these labels.  But these labels give some explanation for symptoms, they remind me I am not crazy and they give doctors an understanding on how to help me physically.  As new labels have been added recently, I find myself researching and trying to understand what is happening and how I can make changes in my diet to help heal my body.  I carefully balance these diagnosis with trying not to take illnesses onto myself that aren't mine and to believe that even though the tests show these diagnoses, my God can still heal me.  Celiac, fibromyalgia, respiratory infections, bacterial infections, adrenal gland conditions, Raynaud's Phenomena, a gland condition and GERD- all these things are not not too big for the great Healer.  As the sun hid behind the clouds, I knew it was still shining but was hidden, blocked from my view.  Even though I can't see it I need to believe it is still there, shining, warming the earth.  And although I don't know if that healing will come on this side of heaven, I am not giving up.  I am holding onto Hope.  I am choosing to not living in fear but remembering my identity and letting the Sonshine warm my back and fall on my face as I look up and praise the One who knows me and made me.

And as I reflect upon this, I see how much bigger the picture is than just the sunshine on the dark cloudy backdrop or my body fighting to become healthy but getting weary and run down.   It moves beyond this world into the "unseen world".  The clouds move in, threatening to block the sun just like the enemy wants to block my trust and make me give in to fear and frustration.  I have lived according to unwritten rules that I have learned through my life.  These rules have created unhealthy patterns.  I often find myself discouraged, feeling alone and misunderstood.  I hate that my struggles aren't written across my face, that no one really sees into my body or my knows the struggles I carry.  I often get overwhelmed and feel like things are too much, especially after going to a doctor with hopes for a cure and only get more possible diagnoses or questions and the sad reminder that my doctor is not God.  I know these are lies that the enemy wants me to believe.  I know that "God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline"(1 Timothy 1:7).  

The other night I lay awake for hours, my mind replaying events over the past years where I watched things and people being taken away from me. As I watched, I saw scenes where God took these things away, where I could no longer play piano and express my emotions through music, where I could no longer hold a pen to write my thoughts, to moments where I lost our unborn babies and with it broken dreams, of people I loved not getting better or healed and passing away form this world, to the realization that to have celiac meant I would be causing internal damage when I had my one gluten cheat- injera and how I did not want to give up this food that I love the taste of and am attached to emotionally.  These losses played over and over, leaving me with no control, vulnerable, broken.  I grieved these losses, and in my sleepless unrest, my mind began to get angry.  I felt entitled to the health and things I saw others receive and do.  I became angry and the empty hurt filled me over these losses.  It became overwhelming.  As the hours passed slowly, my mind gave in to the panic that follows the realization of the depth of the losses.  I felt the fear enclose me, making it hard to breath (which was also caused by my respiratory infection).  Suddenly I sat up, the anxiety so thick I almost had to push it aside.  I didn't known what to do, but I spoke out into the dark that I needed "truth".  I got out of bed, as if I could walk away from the attack, as if to distance myself from the lies.  I began to speak out loud as I gathered my thoughts.  What was the Truth?  Did I believe that my life was worthless?  That because these things were not possible for me right now that I was not enough?  Was I really alone?  Was this really too big?  And I began to ask Jesus what the Truth was.  Where was he when these things were taken from me?  Was I too many illnesses to be who my family needs?  Were the words of those around me true when they spoke the negative and fearful words about possible outcomes from diseases?  Who were these accusations from?  I was reminded about the lessons we are teaching our grade two girls in Sunday School about the Armour of God.  I needed my belt of Truth.  I needed to be close to my source of Truth- my God.  I needed to have words of truth and as I imagined myself grab my sword, I spoke truth into the darkness.  I called out the lies, replacing them with truth.  I  am loved, I am enough, I am not alone, I am filled with the Holy Spirit, who is peace and who strengthens me and equips me.  I opened my eyes to see the battle I was in was not so much a physical battle but one with the enemy.  As I lay back down, I allowed my mind to replay the scenes I had been re-living asking God to show my the truth or to speak healing to these situations.  I was reminded of  the image of Jesus holding my babies who died before I got to hold them, rocking them and caring for them until the day we will meet, of the healing that happened in our relationship before my dad passed away and even though he was not physically healed here on earth, I was reminded of the presence of God in the room when my Dad breathed his last breath on earth and went on to breath his first deep breath in heaven, fully healed and delivered from the pains in this world.  I was reminded of how God has been healing Paulos and Meski and our family since  they joined our family five years ago.  I was reminded how many foods I can still enjoy and that there are ways to still enjoy Ethiopian food outside of restaurants.  And as I remembered that I am right where God wants me and that I can be used by Him because I am more than the illness names that the doctors give my symptoms, I felt myself relax.  I let go, surrendering my fears, my anxieties and gave them to the One who already knew what I was battling.  As I spoke Truth and gave these things up I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit fill the room, leaving no place for the fear that the enemy wanted me to be under.  And at last I fell asleep, peaceful.  

And each moment of every day is a choice.  A choice to know the sun is shining even when I can't see it.  A choice to feel the Sonshine on my face and the choice to take joy and fully live, even when the pieces of life fit different then I imagined.

Kristene Dimarco Bethel Church Music- It is Well (lyrics)

You Don't Miss A Thing

I was out for a walk this afternoon.  The plus 10 degree weather brought me hope.  As I watched the water run down the sides of the streets, I felt  a lightness return to my step.  Snow was melting.  Our world is about to thaw.  Spring is coming.  Just like every year until now, this frozen land would come back alive again.  My body moved easier in the kinder temperature.  It's almost like the weariness that settles in my bones during winter was lifting and falling off.  The blueness of the sky a contrast next to the feather like clouds that surrounded the sun.  I felt the sun warm my face.   This place was not forgotten and barren.  I felt energized and alive.

I walked along the dyke on the edge of town, the prairie sky open around me.  I continued walking, visiting with God as I went and listening to my newest praise music,  Our conversation fluttered back and forth on topics, things that are dear to my heart and about what God wanted me to be doing, how I could speak more into the life of a new friend recently going through huge life changes and on to what I was to be doing with my dreams and my longing for more of His spirit my life.  I got our mail and ended my walk listening to the song at the top of this blog post.

In the mail was a new letter from our compassion sponsor child. Last week a new updated photo of her had arrived. Meski was so excited and she quickly made a card and gathered stickers to send this little girl living around the world in a land Meski herself once walked.  She proudly added a photo of our family and reminded her that she too was born in Ethiopia.  She wrote that she loves her and loves that she knows about God.  Today, I read the words translated into English from Amharic, words about wanting prayer for her studies and that her family is fine.  Words asking how we were and how we had celebrated the Christmas feast.  In the midst, she told us she loved us.  Later she added that she would like to meet us face to face and then closed by saying she loved us and so did her mother.

"You don't miss a thing"... this young girl and her mom's love, or maybe more so her need for the sponsorship to have food and schooling and to survive and hopefully thrive in a city without a dad.  I take for granted that each month money goes from our account to support them.  I forget to pray for them.  And suddenly I was reminded about the piece I have to play providing sponsorship for this little girl and the prayers I can send out on her and her family's behalf to our God who cares, who listens and who loves.  This girl and her family reply on us to help provide food, schooling, and our gifts provide traditional clothing and cloth to make more clothing.  We had asked for a child in Addis Ababa so we could visit her but when we were in Addis 5 years ago it didn't work out.  As I go about my day I often forget that we have this opportunity to make a difference in her life, and in the lives of others that we sponsor.  And because it makes a difference in her life it is worth doing.  He chose our family to connect with this one- He doesn't miss a thing.

You Don't Miss A Thing

When You stand
I feel the floor of Heaven tremble
As You breathe
We live and have our being
When you speak
Oh I feel it in my chest
When You sing
All my fears are put to rest

What a wondrous thing
I can stand to sing
Cause when I fall to my knees,
You’re the one who pulls me up again

What a mystery
That You notice me
And in a crowd of ten thousand
You don’t miss a thing

When you sigh
The wind becomes a sonnet
When you laugh
The storm around me ceases
You whisper
And all my enemies are scattered
You surround me
With angels on assignment

Five Years Later

Five years ago today Linc and I were on a plane en route to our babies in Ethiopia.  We'd been dreaming and waiting for the moment for so many years.  We'd fallen in love with the photos of Paulos and Meski.  We read and researched and met with others to prepare.  We'd phoned and emailed, waited for referral, court dates, updates and photos.  We'd fought for paperwork, medicals and visas.  I'd found a support team online of other people waiting for their children and others already home with theirs.  And we went in so unprepared for so much of this journey.  I thought we were finally nearing the end of the journey when we got the call that we had visas for the kids to enter Canada.  We got our tickets, we planned to meet Hazel and travel together, we re-packed our suitcases with clothing that we hoped and guessed would fit our kids (3 months after we initially thought we'd be traveling) and we left our oldest two at home as we flew across the ocean.  Little did we know, but the journey was only just about to begin the day we were brought together...

I remember standing on the steps of the orphanage, about to meet our kids for the first time.  Fear gripped my heart at what was going to happen next.  And just like before giving birth to our first two children, I remember saying "I'm so not ready... I don't know if I can do this..."  And as we walked into the room where we would meet, the air was alive with expectation.  There was something sacred in that delivery room.  There was fear, there was the unknown, there was hurt, and there was loss.  But, there was also love waiting to be found.  Waiting to be known.  Waiting to be lived.  Waiting expectantly in me, and at the time unknown in them.  And there was love that since then has been learning to grow, love that has been healing, love that has been taking deep roots and sprouting into life.

That love took time.  It wasn't instant.  It was learned.  And in a sense, it was earned as trust and attachment formed.  I remember longing for the chance to snuggle with my baby girl, to hold her and calm her fears and help her know she could be safe with me.  In Ethiopia she would scream for hours, my little anbusa (lioness).  Eventually at night she would come to lie on me and scream in my face for such a long time before giving in to sleep.  She didn't want me, but she didn't want me to put her down alone.  She would fight sleep, wiggling, crying, wanting me to stand and hold her so I couldn't set her down and leave her abandoned.  She was so tiny and so very scared.

this was the calm after the storm... the photos and videos we have don't capture the way it really was before this...

the first night she cried so hard and than lay down and fell into an exhausted sleep

The first days, months and year together were beyond the hardest thing that I have ever done or lived through.  We did not live the fairytale but rather real life hit quickly and hard.  Fear (or do I say terror?!) and loss mixed together with survival skills left us in hours of screaming, of rages, or sleepless afternoon naps and of over 4 hour bedtimes with both Linc and I working together.  Mixed in were giggles and growth, but the heaviness of the loss and fear color much of those moments for me (I don't plan to go into just how hard it was in this post, but I am totally open to emailing or talking with you if you are interested or going through this!)

at home... so glad they had each other

 And now, five years later, tonight I had the most beautiful gift.  Friends had been over and Meski seemed to be wearing down.  Her throat stated to hurt and then, after her friend left the house, she broke down in tears.  Her ear hurt and she felt so sad and so sick.  I cuddled with her in her bed.  I stroked her forehead, rubbed her back and watched her body relax.  Her breathing deepened.  Five years ago, or 1,825 nights ago I doubted we'd ever have these moments.  Tonight I reflected on the early months together when I'd sneak into her room at night to hold her or kiss her while she slept.  I'd pray for her and I'd cry for her hurting heart that had so many losses at such a tender age.  And I'd wonder why I got the great privilege to be her mom... and I'd cry for the woman who was her mom before I ever was but who didn't get to sit there holding this precious little girl.  And tonight, the tears once again fell as something in me filled my heart with such a fullness and such love for my little daughter... and the prayers went out for the hearts across the ocean who ache and miss this sweet little girl and her precious little brother.