Canoe and I

Christmas Day I desired to go canoeing despite the fact that it had snowed.
The river would have been the wise choice, but with a lack of a vehicle to transport the canoe the 4 necessary kilometres, I decided instead to portage my canoe back to the bush so I could just sit in it on the pond, read and have some quality time with the Maker.
Alas, I had underestimated the cold of the winter, and of course the pond had frozen over.
But not discouraged, my canoe and I decided to still take in the day and embark on a small hike around the fields and forest.

This is our journey.

Beginning with a .5km hike back to the bush, slightly through the trees and to the pond.                                         

Resting after hiking to the bush and reminiscing about warmer days. 

Canoe checking out some raccoon tracks. 

           

            

Canoe decided to try his luck at tree-climbing. A canoe after my own heart. 

Surprisingly having no arms or legs did not thwart his ability to climb the fallen tree.

(A small joke that canoe made (ask if you don't get it) Canoe humor is quite dry, ironically)

Canoe still climbing, this was about as far as he made it before coming down though

(scared of heights I think, bad encounter with a waterfall). 

Playing hide-and-go-seek in the bush. 

Canoe had a distinct advantage being white as snow and brown like tree, 

so I always hid while he looked. 

Our journey comes to a close, heading back home through the fields.

Some thoughts... 

"Both of us had wished to be on the water that day.

But we had a good journey anyway.

Dreams may not come the way you expect them to,

but that doesn't mean that they didn't come true.
  -I

"My thwarts were aching, 

my bow felt like breaking. 

I wasn't made for land-lubbing like this.

 I guess the day was fun,

but boy I'm glad its done,

and I can dream of true watery bliss.
                                                                     - Canoe 

                                                                                                                               

                               

Thanks for adventuring with us.

This Christmas

   I have definitely felt and seen love this Christmas. So thankful for the family I have and the love they have for each other.
One demonstration of love this year came in the form a gift I felt so undeserving for.
   My family decided this year to, rather than give gifts to each other, pool the money together to help pay for eye for myself in the coming year. This in itself I was so thankful for, and my family would not let me say no to letting them do this.
   I never asked for it, yet it was offered nonetheless.
What I received was so much more that what I expected and I cannot express enough thanks to my family and the others who have supported me.
    There was one particular aspect of the gift that really hit me though.
It was an envelope from a few of my nephews, when they heard I was looking to get surgery for my eyes they also went into their savings and took money to give to me.
I was thankful for this before knowing how much they gave, and when I later opened the envelope to find over a hundred dollars I was floored, knowing how much money that is at the age my nephews are at.

   This gift, which I did not feel I deserved, reminded me how Jesus gave even so much more to undeserving people as us. His throne in heaven to come to earth, His life here on earth, His nearness to God in those moments on the cross where He took on our sin. A perfect gift for me, and for us all if we take yet.
Yet I wonder sometimes why I am not so thankful for it. The gift from my family brought me to tears, why doesn't God's even greater and less deserved gift bring me to tears each day I think of it?

  I do not suppose that until I reach heaven and see the difference, until I see what God saved me from and clearly see what He did for me, that I will be overwhelmed in praise and gratitude.
  I do suppose that when I fully see His love for me it will spur me on into an eternity of praise to Him.

 But for now, I must continually bring myself into that place of praise whether I feel like it or not, knowing that one day I, and we all will see what He has truly done for us. 

May you feel His love this Christmas and every day 

May you be reminded of His gift for us in so many ways.

"You have multiplied, O Lord my God,
your wondrous deeds and your
 thoughts toward us,
none can compare with you!
I will proclaim and tell of them,
yet they are more than can be told."
-Psalm 40:5

Down to the River

        

 So this is Christmas? I went down to the river today and felt much more like I was looking at April waters than those of December 21. Alas, perhaps it is best that our Christmas is not merely associated with the weather, but with Christ as it should be.
 Even yet though, if the weather continues this way, I will definitely be canoeing Christmas day.

Also some inspiration today; my sister told me about this blog,

 and the life of this girl Katie is pretty amazing. God can really move through you when you move towards Him, selling yourself out for His purpose. Not that you necessarily need to wait on a specific word or call, but that you follow His word and the passions He gives you, allowing Him to direct you as you move.  

   I am lead  to think about my upcoming trip to the DRCongo and how this is not an opportunity to waste or to take lightly, but rather it is a time for me serve with all my heart. To give to God everything I do and more importantly everything I am and trust in His ability to work through me. May I do this with much prayer, much praise and great excitement and hope in God. 

He Came to Me

We knock on the door and enter in,
only to find that the rooms are empty there. No food on the table to sustain us,
no table at all. But we have entered nonetheless,
searching room     to room    for something
anything.
But the whole house is empty.
However this house is close, it is here and now,
we have no reason to leave, let's continue too look.
And look, and wander through this house.

 Until a voice calling out from the fields. 

 It is a voice we somehow 

know we can trust.

 We run to the window and peer outside. 

There is life growing in the fields,

there is light stretching across the horizon, 

it is good. 

But we have wondered so long in this
old, dark house that the way has been lost.
Frantically we go room to room,
looking for a way out.
How could we have been so blind to enter this place?
Who would be so foolish?
Certainly only a mistake someone
like me
could make.
Yet we and I are here, now searching for a way out.
Time and time again each door swings open to another dark room,
dust and emptiness.
The silence in the hallways seems to mock us for coming here.
Every corner echoes with regret...

In time, we begin to forget what the voice calling us sounded like.
We begin, to give up.
This place is empty, but at least its a place.
No room has ever satisfied but at least we explore on and on through the empty rooms.
Maybe we will stay. Others have lived like this, so shall we.

    Its time to rest. So much

walking, wandering, searching, does make one weary after some time. 

We crouch in a corner, making the solitude our bed. 

With knees tucked to our chest and arms around them we try to sleep. 

But alone in our beds we remember. 

We remember that this place is not enough.

We have no purpose here.

We look around at the plastered walls and the

empty floors. 

We imagine the room filled. Enamored artwork and elaborate woodwork.
Smells of good food and sounds of life resonate.
It seems so real.
We could do this. We could make ourselves believe this place to be more.
Say it is so and claim it for our own!
Work together for a better tomorrow, this we will do.
Up from our beds of solitude we endeavor to make something of our situation.
With all powers of imagination we build ourselves a kingdom here.
Close our eyes and count to ten, don't open them till someone says when.
In our minds we live in a finished mansion now, it seems good.

    But it is so far from good. For even in our mansion of imagination we must sleep.

And as we lie down to sleep, sometimes we forget to keep our eyes closed

and we see things again they way they really are. 

We see the emptiness that is true to each one of us living here.

Sometimes we weep in this.

Sometimes we just try to quickly close our eyes once again and forget the

nothing    we feel. 

We always try to hope, we don't always succeed. 

   On some days when we are walking through our mansion,
nibbling away at food for thought which never amounts to anything,
someone finds the window.
but scared of hope or scared of change no one really sees it.
They know it is there though,
even with closed eyes you still hear that voice.
The voice calling from the fields, from the something more.
I know I do not like that voice anymore.
It touches to deeply, pulls too hard.
I am happy here! Are we not all happy here?
I do not need your call!
Let me be, for I have my kingdom here in which I find my comfort.
So leave this room with the window.
Next room we enter into and the voice,
that churning inside tearing at something I know not what,
is quieter now.
           Next room...quieter still.
                          Next room...silence.
                                       Silence from that lying, ignorant....
                                                           just peace and silence.
                                             I hate it.
         .. but I will never tell you that.
I will not tell you how much I hurt in this silence.
I...we, many of us, have lived here long enough to make you think this is our home,
and why should that be changed?

   Go now to our beds, to sleep and meet another day,

yet going and dreading the chance of remembering what we want to forget. 

Perhaps sleep will come easily. 

   But this night is different, it is worse than I have known.
I cannot close my eyes. All around I see this place for what it is.
Why?
I just want to sleep and dream no more of something more!
I have tried to find a way out!
Those first days when I heard the voice I did everything I could!
Life...what do you want of me?
Truth..why do you haunt me?
If the way is here I do not know it!

 "The way is here."

  I know that voice.

"The way is here."

   Who are you?

 "The way."

 This voice I've heard, but it is so close now, like I've never heard it before.
Who it belongs to I cannot see, but they are near now.
Footsteps.        They are moving.
I follow the way.
     Out of this room,
                                                           through that door,
      this way
                                                                                          and that way

    he leads me. 

Before long it is to a place i have not known before;
A narrow
    hallway
        I had
        not seen
            despite
               many
                 years
                    here.
                    The way leads me
                       down
                          this path....and as we walk I ponder...

...all these years here, was this path here all that time? 

   I cannot help but think that the voice calling me from outside was really calling me

from a void within myself.

And every door I shut going from room to room 

was a door in my own heart. 

My imaginary mansion seems so fickle now.

How could I have been so silly to walk those empty halls. 

Why did I even come here in the first place? 

I scold myself for my blindness,

clenching my fists, gritting my teeth, with tears in my eyes

regret swells inside me. I close my eyes in pain. 

  "Hey!"

 The voice startles my thoughts

 "Keep your eyes on me"

  I can't.

  "I am the truth, not those lies you see behind closed eyes." 

  I trust this truth, somehow i do. And I follow onward.
Down the narrow path.
I follow the way, believing the truth, in faith moving forward in the life here and to come.

Because He came to me.

Outside your window

One exam down and one to go.
Took a break in between and actually looked outside my window in my room.
One of the few times this year that the blinds have been pulled open.
Its funny how you can be somewhere so long that you forget about the things that make the place beautiful.
Simple things.

The Words We Write...

 

"When words are many, transgression is not lacking,

but whoever restrains his lips is prudent.

The tongue of the righteous is choice silver..."

Proverbs 10:19-20  

"Be quick to listen,

and slow to speak"

James 1:19

" ⁵ “Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty.”

 ⁶ Then one of the seraphim flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. ⁷ With it he touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.”

 ⁸ Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?”

   And I said, “Here am I. Send me!” 

Isaiah 6

Its funny, I have somehow gained the impression, over the years

that it is important to be able to always have something to say. 

No awkward silences, but an ability to talk and converse. 

But perhaps I have been mistaken

perhaps I haven't valued enough the skill of being silent

even when you can say something.

The talent of thinking and having thoughtful words.

To be intentional with what I say,

as if each word were building up or breaking down

something beautiful,

something made for something more. 

Do I speak to build myself up? 

Do I speak just to be funny or to be noticed?

Do I speak in ways to shock people, just to get a reaction? 

Do I praise God on Sundays 

and complain about the life He's given me on Mondays? 

Do I bless His name in church

and ridicule those He has created after His image everywhere else?

Am I tearing down what God is trying to restore? 

 Or...

Do I consistently speak

as if the coal has touched my lips? 

 

May the words I write into your life,

with my voice as ink and lips as the pen,

 be building something good and right; 

 words carefully crafted and purposefully planned..

words like rain,

watering the grounds of heart and mind

to be a part of growing something 

beautiful,                                

to be a part of creating life. 

On my mind...

On the 28th of November elections took place in the Democratic Republic of the Congo
A place I will spend three months of my next year in, hoping to be a light of God there.
Joseph Kabila, the former president has been re-elected,
with protest.
Pray that the elections results will not result in more violence,
pray that the DRC will take no steps backwards, towards, their painful past.
May each event be moving towards a process of healing for the country and her people.

For more information on the elections and the DRC, please click here

Hope is found, 

in the simple sound

of pages rustling

  in an old Holy book. 

Its words are alive

its promises are yours and mine. 

Take them as breath

even when choked in pain and loss.

Take them as daily bread

even when the table is empty. 

No amount of pain can mar

His love which is never far

from wounded hands and hearts

that cry for justice.