Let us at least leave behind flowers.

Let us at least leave behind songs.”

Three years ago this weekend, I went to Mexico for a week of professional learning with Monarch Teachers Network. I was so lucky that my administration supported my decision in letting me go, believing that my interest in monarch butterflies would benefit the students. Myself and about 30 other educators from the US and Canada went to see the overwintering site of the monarchs and learn about Mexico. We had two amazing teachers, Erik Mollenhauer from New Jersey, and Marcos Garcia from Mexico. This week I’ve had “Mexico on my brain” as I’ve reflected on this time which was so infused with God encounters.

My Watershed friends not only encouraged me to take the trip, but also to deepen my learning in my first ever blog. I read over the blog this weekend, reflecting on the experiences which became life-changing.

“Life-changing” might sound too extreme for a mere 7 days away from home, but I stand by this assessment, even now that 3 years have passed. I made many new friends in this week-long community, all educators like me, several of whom have stopped by Winnipeg on travels and stayed with us, and others who I still keep in contact with on Facebook. I ate amazing food. I became a student for a week, soaking up a huge variety of well taught lessons on history, biology, current Mexican culture, even astrology.  I stood in Mexican forests surrounded by millions of fluttering monarchs, a forest which felt like a sanctuary.

In keeping a blog about the experience, Paul (the pastor of my small house church) encouraged me to see the trip through the grid of the hero’s journey. It became invaluable as I filtered my experiences through this “roadmap”. Google “Hero’s journey” and you’ll come up with tons of links. Originally coined by American scholar Joseph Campbell, the hero’s journey is a basic pattern that is in many stories around the world, from thousands of years ago (Moses, the Buddha) or in Hollywood movies (Star Wars, Lord of the Rings or even Shrek).  Looking at a trip in this way changed my perspective.

The hero’s journey starts for any of us when our normal or known world is presented with a problem, challenge or adventure. We can refuse the journey (and many do when fears come up), but if we say yes, there are many stages to go through, complete with mentors, enemies and tests. There is wisdom to be gained in the journey, and we return to the ordinary world with the “elixir” or lesson which will help others in some way.

This story helped change my trip from a vacation to a pilgrimage as I began to contemplate everything within this pattern. I got the call to adventure in Salisbury House in September, 2008, when the women from Watershed were there for breakfast one morning. As I shared my dream to someday take this trip, they shocked me by suggesting that I could actually do it. Discerning the call was not easy because I had many fears and roadblocks, and I was tempted to say no. But the call was insistent and I pushed through the “no” and stuck with my decision. Many of the stages were chronicled in the blog I wrote at the time. There was one event which has stayed with me and has guided and maybe even changed me.

I probably would have forgotten the lesson of this event if I hadn’t reflected on it weeks later in the blog.  In contemplating the trip, I had often wondered what it would be like to finally step into the monarch forest. Neurotic person that I am, I began to worry – would it be a “big experience”? Would I see the miracle or would depression or headaches cloud my thoughts as often happens?

At El Rosario

We took the long trek up the mountains of the main butterfly sanctuary of “El Rosario”, a few hours west of Mexico City. Finally I began to see them, a few at first and then more and more – the overwintering monarchs stirring to life in the spring migration. I stopped at the edge of the field and a thought struck me amid my worries – “This is a miracle. No matter how I’m feeling physically or emotionally, it is and always will be a miracle. It’s not about me.”

“It’s not about me.” I don’t usually hear God’s voice directly, but this time it felt like I was. The voice wasn’t yelling. It felt more like a whisper from outside myself, a voice of wonder as I saw those first clusters of monarchs. This was a miracle that was much bigger than my many worries. Like my own life’s journey, these butterflies had survived so much in their migration and were proof of God’s hand. God works a huge miracle in our lives every day, despite all our bumblings and human fragility.

The group of women who had started my journey had given me a gift to take along. Each of them had chosen a quotation or verse for me to reflect on, and had set them in a book to read along the way. My dear friend Lorna had given me a quote which I read at the end of that day:

“And what was the purpose of our pilgrimage?

To let a new intelligence prevail.”

Wallace Stevens

It’s not about me. This “new intelligence” became the calling that I carried forward into the world after that trip. It feels vulnerable to write it, because the implication is so obvious, but I have been a narcissist, obsessed with the small story of “me” for far too long. God gave me a gentle nudge that day, reminding me in what has become my mantra, that there’s more to life than I see in my often limited imagination. “Stay open,” it seemed God was saying to me, “Let your life migrate, just like the monarchs, to your home in my expansive world.”

After that memorable afternoon in the mountains, we trekked back down and bought quesadillas from a roadside vendor. I sat with Erik, our teacher, and shared what had happened and what I’d heard. He is a spiritual man and quickly resonated with what I said, telling me a story of how the miracle of migration had changed his life as well.

Later that week, in a thank you speech to a local school who had hosted us, Erik quoted a line from a poem written by an ancient Mexican philosopher emperor, which I began this blog entry with:

“Is it true? We are here for only a little while?

Let us at least leave behind flowers.

Let us at least leave behind songs.”

I read this short poem again this weekend in my trip blog, and was reminded of the deeper purpose of my life. I am forever grateful that God has called and is still calling me out of the small world of my story into the expansive world of “The Story”.

It’s hard to talk in metaphors to 7 and 8 year olds, but when we came back to the lesson a few days later, they had retained it. Starving the flame of oxygen is like walking away from a bully, or at least ignoring as best as we can. Good friends can help by walking away with us, ignoring what is hurtful.

I don’t have any literal bullies around me but in this lifetime I have found that I’ve had some inner “walking away” to do. My inner bullies have been in the form of false thoughts. I’m sure everyone has them. Insecurities, jealousies, lazy thinking, anger, greed – all these provide ample opportunity for false thoughts to grow like weeds in a graden.

My inner bully – The biggest false thought that I had to battle this week probably fits under the category of anger when I suspect that I don’t belong. I don’t “get things” as quickly as others, or my thoughts are off the beaten path of others and I just don’t know how to jump into conversations quickly. The thoughts go something like this, “You’ll never get it. You aren’t connected to others.” Like Frankenstein’s monster, I get to feeling doomed to wander alone, separate from community. These thoughts are not new to me but for some reason this week, they were stronger. Feelings of depression and separation seemed to be gaining the upper hand. Like a lake freezing over in winter, my inner landscape can become frozen, no longer animated and free. Everyone has their demons to battle.

You can see now why I need to write this blog! I would be a lonely person indeed if I didn’t have an answer to the question of “Where is God in all of this?” Franz Kafka said long ago that “A book should serve as an axe for the frozen sea within us.” I had some chopping to do to counter the false thoughts and I kept wondering what this week’s blog topic would be.

Birthday e-card from dear friends

The first chop of the axe came in a birthday e-card given to me from friends Paul and Bev, and is a verse from Romans. “I’m convinced that nothing can separate us from God’s Love in Christ Jesus our Lord: not death or life, not angels or rulers, not present things or future things, not powers or height or depth, or any other thing that is created.”   When we have false thoughts, it is the hardest thing in the world to ignore them, but this verse helped me to begin walking. “Nothing can separate you from God’s love, Lydie”, is what this verse kept telling me. So I kept praying and saying no to the lie that I was separate. Knowing too that my friends pray for the same thing for me helped a lot too.

Another axe-chop came on Wednesday night at our weekly Bible study. We are beginning a study of the book of Romans, and it is a daunting study. Romans is a very complex letter. Our friend Eldon was leading that night and he talked about Paul (the author of Romans) writing to reconcile groups who thought they didn’t belong either. Eldon told us that “God’s tent is huge, big enough to welcome anyone, no matter what they think separates them.” My greatest wish for my students at school is that they feel welcome, no matter who they are or what challenges they have, and I remembered that God wishes the same for all of us. The tent is big enough to fit me too.

These two truths are what I walked towards as I walked away from the inner lies that kept tempting me. “You belong” and “You are loved” are true. When I tell the kids to walk away, I know how incredibly difficult it is. Like people who can’t help gawking at an accident scene, we seem drawn to fixating on our inner dramas. What helped the most was just going back to prayer and asking for help. “Casting our cares on God” can be difficult when pride gets in the way, but I really believe what St. Augustine said so long ago, that “our hearts are restless until they find their rest in God.” Our restlessness drives us back to God again and again. There is one relationship in my life which has an as-yet unhealed rift in it, and once again, I gave this relationship to God. I realized it had been heavy in my heart again lately. I pray that healing will someday come, and giving it to God helped to stop obsessing about it.

Strangely, what also helped is something that I’ve noticed before. It helped to be with the kids at school. They are master welcomers! Inside were these inner battles, but the kids bring out something better as compassion and kindness get called out of me. I think that’s why, no matter how difficult it can be, I am grateful for my job.

As the week went on, what I noticed is that the battle lessened, and this is how I experienced God. The power of the inner bully’s flame seemed to be extinguished as the cup of God’s truths was placed over it. Maybe you could say that peace came in the place of heaviness.

I pray for us all as we battle the demons that we might be able to walk away. As Johnny Cash sang, we gotta “Walk the line”. For me, the you in this song is God.

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine

I keep my eyes wide open all the time.

I keep the ends out for the tie that binds

Because you’re mine, I walk the line.

I took up running in 2008, thanks completely to the encouragement and guidance of Vic Keller, a running coach who works out of the downtown YM/YWCA here in Winnipeg.  Even though some mornings, my body is as creaky as an old barn, I feel blessed that I can still lace up the runners and head out the door. Some days I wonder how I’ll make it to the end of my goal, and other days the time flies by and I feel strong. I know every runner probably has the same experience.

One of the things I consistently notice when I run is that the first 10 minutes is the worst.  I know that running is as much a physical challenge as a mental one as I begin to battle my inner protests. I invariably have thoughts like, “This is crazy.  I am out of breath, my nose is running, my eyes are tearing up – I can’t keep going. Why am I doing this?” Etc. Etc. I huff and puff and feel like quitting. I’m so used to these thoughts that by now I just tell myself it’ll get better, and it always does. It’s not that the rest of the run is a breeze, but something kicks in and I’m able to put up with the sweat and pounding heart.  I listen to podcasts or music, I try to enjoy the scenery if I’m outside, and I keep going. In the end, I’m always glad I didn’t give up.

I talk to my students all the time about exercising stamina when they are practicing their reading. Knowing that we only get better at reading by reading, I remind them to stick with it and not to let themselves get distracted when reading is difficult. My own words come back to me constantly as I run.

I was reflecting on all this during the week and it got me back to Paul’s wise words about running and life. “Try to exercise inner stamina during your days,” Paul told me, “like when you run. As you meet life’s challenges and keep your eyes on your goal, you are increasing your longevity and stamina and as you do you become stronger.”  

Paul knows me pretty well, and knows what a softie I am inside. Like my protests in the first 10 minutes of my run, I seem to automatically prefer an easier life. I don’t know where I picked this up. Maybe it’s just human nature. Whether it’s body ills, that old propensity towards depression, or students whose troubles in life affect me, I can get whiny pretty quickly.

It’s become a spiritual discipline to counter my propensity to being soft with exercising inner stamina. I don’t mean just gritting my teeth and putting up with things. I mean overlooking discomfort because of the goal before me, and to me, the goal is one word: God in Jesus (ok that’s 3 words). If I see my challenges in life through my own eyes, I become discouraged, but to see them as Jesus would changes everything. In Jesus’ eyes, everything belongs, even challenges. Instead of giving in to discouragement, I can remember that God uses every experience to form us. Inner protests come and go, but it is immeasurably helpful to turn them into prayers for help instead of mere complaints.

Paul gave me a verse from the New Testament to go with the encouragement to exercise stamina:

We continue to shout our praise even when we’re hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. (Romans 5:3)

Another wise person has said, “Never put a period where God has put a comma.” Troubles are never the final word with God. They are the building blocks of character because God is using everything in our path to continue the story of healing and love. I am usually short-sighted, but God keeps reminding me to keep my eyes on the goal.

These thoughts wove their way through the ups and downs of my week and gave me hope and perserverance.

Today we are having a party for my friend Bev, who turns 50 in a few days. It’s a fun process to get ready. Buying gifts, choosing recipes for the supper and overhearing Bev’s anticipation and trepidation of the milestone has given me

At the MB Marathon, 2011

pause for reflection on our friendship. She has certainly been one of God’s great blessings to me in the last almost 30 years.

I met Bev in my early twenties when we were both students at MBBC, Mennonite Brethren Bible College in Elmwood (now part of Canadian Mennonite University). MBBC was a formative place for a lot of us. Besides studying scripture and learning what the Christian life was all about, many of us at Watershed met lifelong friends there. Bev was from B.C. and I was from Winnipeg. We were in the same circle of friends and got married in the same summer. We were each other’s bridesmaids and shared important milestones together. Looking back on those years, it’s almost like we were kids together.

When I was in elementary school, I used to sing a round song:

“Make new friends, but keep the old, 

one is silver and the other gold.” 

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized more and more the wisdom of keeping old friends, who have known and supported each other through many life stages. Sometimes families, when they are healthy, can be good, old friends together.

Trouble is, sometimes “old friends” lose touch with each other for various reasons, but Bev has been one of those old and gold friends. Our lives changed in significant ways: we left our MBBC context, she divorced and remarried, our church folded and regrouped into what it is today. About 10 years into our friendship, it became clear that I hardly new Bev anymore.

It’s easy for friendships to dissolve and fade amid those kinds of changes. We would have lost our deeper friendship as well had it not been for the wise insight of Paul Patterson, our pastor and Bev’s second husband. He told us at an important juncture that we too could keep our friendship as long as we let go of the old ways we had related which didn’t make sense anymore. This happened 20 years ago now. It was difficult at the time because it felt like I was giving something away, but as I’ve discovered often in the years since, it’s often when we let old things die that the new has a chance to move in.

There was an important visit over coffee where we once tore up an old picture of us together, but made a commitment to continue to be friends. I kept those torn up pieces, wondering what would come in its place. In the years since, our “new/old” friendship has indeed morphed into something better than what we had. Bev’s remarriage had deepened her and I began to realize that she had my best interests at heart. With both our hearts desiring a meaningful life of faith, we kept talking and being formed together in our community’s Bible studies and so many hundreds of meaningful events.

Somehow, Bev is one of those friends who I feel sees to the heart of me, no matter what “warts” of mine are clouding the picture. Put another way, she sees me as I believe God sees me, loved above all else, and often tells me so in many ways. In the early days of Watershed, I wasn’t sure how I fit into this group of people. Many were (still are) more scholarly than I and different in temperament. When I confided my misgivings to Bev, she told me that she was sure I belonged. This small observation in the early 90‘s was a huge encouragement to me at the time, and helped me find my unique fit in Watershed.

I am often prone to depression and negative thinking, but with Bev, as with any soul friend, I can breathe easier and just be myself, knowing that she will graciously give me the benefit of the doubt and keep seeing God in me. She has also been caring enough to be honest and give me a loving “kick in the pants” when needed. She has always pointed me to who she knew I was at a deeper level and called me to become my best self. What greater gift can a friend give? I know I can count on her for advice, for a good laugh, to talk about our sons who grew up together and are still good friends or to borrow that proverbial cup of sugar.

As a teenager oh so long ago, I used to carry a poem in my pocket by George Elliot. I’ve been reflecting on this poem for this blog post as it seems to capture exactly what I mean.

“Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away.” – George Elliot

In Elliot’s poem, there is a “faithful hand” that takes and sifts all the chaff and grain of life, keeps what is worth keeping and with a breath of kindness, blows the rest away. (God I love that poem.) For me, that faithful hand is God.

The KOG relay runners, 2011

If we didn’t have the larger context of meaning that we do in our house church, I think our friendship would not be this way. Bev is this kind of friend not just to me but to everyone in our group. As we all steep ourselves in scripture and prayer and forging a life of faith together, the face of God begins to shine in each other. God has used Bev to stitch our community together in many ways, whether its through her amazing and generous baking and cooking, her watercolor art, her smiles and small kindnesses or her words of encouragement, wisdom and faith.

I am so thankful that I feel safe with another person in this way. In a world where so many are lonely, I see this as a golden treasure from God.

Happy 50^th Birthday my dear friend. I love you.

My friend Fana and her family, who emigrated to Winnipeg from Eritrea in north-east Africa, received her Habitat home today. I got to know Fana in the summer of 2011 when I worked with Habitat. Her stories of faith in God during difficult times was an encouragement to me. Fana would give me a warm hug every time I saw her. “We are now friends,” she told me more than once.

I was greeted with the same solid hug when I entered her new home today at 11 a.m. The house, still empty of furniture, was filled with well-wishers. Fana and her 4 children lined up the the living room (minus her husband who is presently in the hospital with a hopefully treatable stomach ailment) as the ceremony began.

One by one, people gave speeches to bless the home. A Habitat employee gave the family a toolbox with tools for any minor repairs in case they’d missed anything (“and if you call us, we can help you with it”, she was told). He also gave them a Bible as another tool they could use for the rest of life’s problems. One of Fana’s Canadian friends gave a warm speech about this loving family, and how deserving they were. Fana had told me about this friend last summer – an

Fana and her children and friend

“angel”sent to her to help them in their early settlement in Winnipeg. Now I heard from the friend how much she herself had been blessed from knowing Fana and her family. A win/win situation.

There were more gifts – Tim Horton’s coffee and coffee maker, a broom, shovel and water hose, and many other practical gifts, all given with gracious speeches.

It was all so moving because these were not just words. Many hundreds of loving hours had been given by volunteers to build and finish the house, not to mention companies who believe in Habitat’s vision and routinely donate shingles, skylights, labor and much more.

It’s sometimes difficult to believe in the good news of God’s love in this world filled with bad news stories. I am sometimes very discouraged at day’s end at the problems I see in people’s lives, or in the darkness such as anger in my own soul. But, standing in this living room, I saw a clear glimpse of God’s kingdom. People spoke of their vision of how children thrive when they have a stable, loving home; of wanting to give affordable, decent housing to many. The love for this family, still so new to Canada, was palpable. My eyes didn’t stay dry for one minute of the dedication ceremony. Their pastor prayed a blessing in their language. Even though I didn’t understand the literal words, their gratitude and dignity was moving.

In the end, Fana gave a speech. In her broken, beautiful English, she began, “My English is not good, but I will speak from my heart.” She went on to say thank you to many. Thank you too Fana, for the chance to witness God in your humble and loving life. And thank you God for giving someone the vision for Habitat for Humanity, a place that brings out the best in people.

Bad news had been happening in our neighborhoods as well: a $1 million apartment fire a few blocks away, started because of gang warfare. A woman died tragically in a car crash on a local bridge. Students of mine trying to grow up normal in the midst of huge family dysfunction. When does the bad news stop?

These were my thoughts as I sat with my coffee on the couch in the early morning quiet before heading off to work. I love having this quiet time, but some mornings it’s difficult to face my thoughts. It’s like cracking open the newspaper and wondering where God is in the midst of bad news. What’s wrong with the world (and us) seems so much more overwhelming than thoughts of the presence of God and God’s love, peace, patience, and kindness.

It was in the midst of this general malaise that I experienced how scripture can revive a person’s soul. I remembered a verse from 2 Corinthians that helped me remember who I am in God’s eyes. 

But we have this treasure in clay jars to show that its extraordinary power comes from God and not from us. 2 Corinthians 4:7  

I used this verse as a starter prayer in the early morning. Nothing fancy, but my prayer went something like this: “God, I certainly identify with the clay jar part. I feel so ordinary and my thoughts often feel weighed down by clay-like thoughts. Somehow You are telling me that despite all appearances, there’s a treasure within, which is no less than You. Help me live today as if that were true.”

There’s this great phrase in thinking about whether God’s reality is here with us now, as we live our lives and witness the too often overwhelming presence of bad news. God’s kingdom is indeed with us now, but it’s like this: “Already/not yet”.  It’s here already, but it’s also not yet here. They say that we live in the tension in the middle of this.

When I was a kid, we prayed the Lord’s Prayer every morning in school. Like my friends, I prayed this without much thought, but it is now etched in my life. I pray it often and it becomes what I often fall back onto when words fail me. One part of it echoes this already/not yet tension: “Thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.” 

Already – Scripture tells us that God’s kingdom has already been established here on earth. We can see God actively working, sometimes even miraculously, in the present day. I see God all the time – in the strong, resilient spirit of my students who demonstrate kindness despite all the odds they’re up against. I see God in my co-workers who might not even say they are people of faith. I see God in people who give their lives to making the world a better place in some form of service where “me” is not the top agenda. I see God in my faith community at Watershed.

Not yet – But we also know that this knowledge of God at times seems so limited. The effects of war (far away or here in our own neighborhoods), poverty, sickness, inter-personal grief, violence – all of this continues and we realize that God’s kingdom is also not yet fully here. We are caught between two ages.

I saw the “already” part of the phrase this week when I remembered that the treasure within can never die, despite all appearances to the contrary. My life can seem lack luster. A cold snap can make the kids at school squirrely and completely unfocused on the “brilliant” lessons I want to give them. Body ills can dull my heart to seeing God’s presence.

But this verse fixed my perspective this week, and stirred up a joy for living again. A bounce returned to my step and I saw God again in my students, whatever state they were in. I saw God in my life, even in mundanity. The bounce in my step also returned as I realized I had the blog topic for the week!

My cousin Evy, who is battling cancer, responds to the question “How are you?” with the sentence, “I’m well.” Being well doesn’t necessarily mean that all problems are solved, but that God is with us in whatever we’re going through. Evy’s life is certainly a witness to this. I know that she has experienced the “clay jar” of her life – limitation and even the prospect of death. Yet she knows that the treasure of God’s love is stronger than all this.

When my perspective is restored, it is always like the curtains part and I can see God clearly again. I am thankful that even when the curtains seem closed, God is still at work in the world and in our hearts, restoring all things to the Kingdom. May we all have faith during “not yet”, holding fast to faith until “already” shows its face to us.

I wanted to share a song that carries this theme. It is by Josh Garrels, a folk musician from Portland, Oregon. I have listened to this song, called “Beyond the Blue” many times in recent weeks. His lyrics are deeply spiritual. It’s a song all about already/not yet: “Everything ain’t quite what it seems/There’s more beneath the appearance of things.” Listen to his song here.

I went back to work this week. I’m usually a good sleeper, but on Monday night, I had a night of bad sleep. Maybe it was renewed worries about the months ahead, but my sometimes wonky neck and head kept waking me up. I have a little routine I usually do on nights like this. I stretch out on the living room floor, trying (usually in vain) to stretch out the aches, and I begin to pray.

Popular author Anne Lamott says that we all really have only 2 prayers, “Help me, help me!” and  “Thank you, thank you!” (I once read that she now has a 3^rd prayer: “Wow.”) My middle-of-the-night living room floor prayers are always of the first variety. They don’t get a whole lot fancier than “Help me!” “Help me make it through the day tomorrow with my students God.”  “Help me get better.”  “Help me get through this.” And just plain, “Help me God.”

This night was no different until a thought came to me. It occurred to me that maybe I was catastrophizing things just a bit. Don’t get me wrong, I truly believe that God wants us to “cast all our cares” on Him in prayer, but I began to wonder if in praying my “help me” prayers, I was overplaying a crisis. This is one of my worst habits and it gets me in trouble all the time. I take things too seriously and life becomes burdensome. I somehow unconsciously think I am a queen who deserve a life of no suffering. In a strange way, life’s challenges get warped into something to be desperately wished away.

Graffiti seen near my house

It was literally an “Aha!” moment where my perception got shifted. I had never thought of my prayers for help as being part of my habit of catastrophizing. Lying on the floor, it felt like I got snapped awake and I stopped my moaning. Maybe my trial wasn’t as big of a deal as I was making it out to be. Like the old game of hot potato, I dropped my help me prayers and became silent.

Through the rest of that night, I replaced the prayers, or perhaps I should say that God replaced my prayers, since I believe that it is God, not us, who prays through us. I prayed a string of thanks for all the people in my life who have shown me God’s face. And I prayed the Lord’s Prayer  (usually getting only a ways in before I got distracted and had to start again!)

For the rest of the week, I thought of this moment of insight on the living room floor. When I was a teenager, I once memorized a poem and a line of it kept running through my head, “Into each life some rain must fall.” Sometimes I forget that everyone experiences some form of suffering and that I am certainly not alone. I might not be able to choose my trials, but I can choose how to respond.

When I was at the Y the next day, running on the treadmill, I was listening to Romans in preparation for our upcoming Watershed study, and a verse struck me, “We can even rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” (Romans 5:3-4)

It takes a real view of the big picture to see our troubles as something we can rejoice in. Usually I start whining immediately to be rid of my troubles! But these verses remind me that suffering brings with it some hard-won lessons, but only if we open the eyes of our heart to see. I remembered earlier last year when I was given words of advice from our pastor Paul to become tougher on the inside instead of steeling myself on the outside against what life brings me. (I wrote about this advice in a previous blog post.) Becoming tougher on the inside speaks to me of developing stamina and remembering that character and hope can be borne out of what is difficult.

Running on the treadmill, I knew these verses were a confirmation of the insight from the night before. When I shared my experience with my friend Bev the next day, she nodded enthusiastically. “It sounds right, and I’m sure Paul would say so too,” she said.

It’s not like I’ve never heard these verses from Romans before, but as I dropped my desperate prayers, I heard them in a new way. Like any human being, I’d rather not experience troubles, but if I must, I pray to lean on God, and allow them to produce perseverance, character and hope in me. God knows we need more of these virtues this in our troubled but beautiful world.

We had our son back in 1990. It was certainly a new beginning for us, as for all parents, but in our lives, there was also a painful ending happening. Our church (Cornerstone Christian Fellowship) was folding. A small remnant of under 20 people stayed together from the defunct church. This group has been together ever since and is the house church we are now a part of.

But at the time, this ending was a difficult time for many of us. Many were suspicious of our new group and we had to hold on to the fact that we felt called to be together and stand fast amid the controversy. Not only that, we were together without the structure of the Mennonite Brethren church around us. Were we even a church?

In the midst of these difficult years, Lyle and I couldn’t ignore the marriage troubles we had had since the beginning of our marriage in ’84. We ended up separating in October of 1993. Joel was just a little guy and it broke my heart to hear his tears when for instance he was visiting Lyle in his apartment and phoned me. We weren’t the only ones disoriented and confused.

Christmas of that year rolled around. One evening, I had taken Joel for a drive to see Christmas lights and I had just put him to bed. When there’s trouble in the air, Christmas can make people feel separation more keenly. I was feeling empty and despondent and unsure of the future and feeling of course like a huge failure. I had no idea how to fix my marriage.

It was into that context that I saw the face of God and received a glimmer of hope. I flicked on the TV and decided to watch the old movie It’s a Wonderful Life. Here was the story of another man who was brought to despair by the circumstances of his life. Contrary to the title of the movie, George Bailey saw everything in his life as miserable after a theft of money left him with bankruptcy and the death of his dreams. “It would have been better if I’d never been born,” he tells Clarence, the angel sent to rescue George. The pressure and despair finally gets to George and he decides to kill himself by jumping into the raging river.

No hope

I picked up my unhappy head and watched the movie. How would this tension be resolved I wondered? One moment of the movie stood out for me. As he is storming out of the house before heading to the river, he goes down the stairs and grabs the newel on the top of the stairs, something that has never been screwed on properly. As he grabs it, it comes off again and it’s like the straw that breaks the camel’s back. George sees no hope in his circumstances.

His lack of hope continue even as Clarence the angel shows him what life would have been like had he never been born – his brother would have been dead, his wife alone, and the town would have fallen into the clutches of Potter, a money-grabbing banker who did not have the interests of the community at heart like George Bailey did. At first,  George obstinately holds on to his despair with each scene that Clarence shows him, but eventually (like Scrooge in that other great Christmas classic A Christmas Carol), George’s cynicism breaks down and he begs the angel to tell him that this alternate reality is not true.

George’s conversion happens as his perspective is restored. He is given his old life back, but a miracle has

Hope restored

happened. Customer after customer comes to George Bailey’s house and pours money to help cover the debts left after the robbery. The mercy and love that George had always shown to down and outers came back to George himself as his true friends helped him in his own hour of need. But even before George realizes this miracle, he knows his life is wonderful even in its brokenness. His perspective has been restored.

I’ll never forget the scene where George rushes into the house after realizing that he has his old life back. He runs into the house and grabs the newel, still unattached, but now he is so grateful that he kisses it.

Lyle and I watched the movie again this Christmas, and the tears flowed just as they had in ’93 when a glimmer of hope for my own dire circumstances began to form in my heart. The fact that love won over despair in George’s life was a huge gift to me that Christmas. It was like the tight bands around my heart popped open as I saw a situation of bounty and love form instead of a black hole. Hope stirred once again. I wasn’t alone.

George thought that money and his failure was the most important thing, but he was given eyes to see (and how he resisted!) that it was a tiny dot when seen in the light of the beauty of his life. At the end, Clarence the angel writes him a note that says, “Remember that no man is a failure who has friends.”

Friends and the hope of God are who came through for Lyle and I in the following weeks. We had three healing circles where our closest friends sat us down (first with Lyle and I separately and then together), and talked to us of where they’d seen us go wrong. It was like a wise and skilled doctor carefully cutting out a bad tumor. There’s an old saying that says, “The truth can set you free, but at first it will make you miserable.” It was painful to take an honest look at our lives, but as we opened ourselves up to the process, we saw a future with hope. We agreed to forgive each other and with God’s and community’s help, set our sights on healing and not division.

This movie and the healing of our marriage remains one of the greatest miracles of my life. I could not see a way through the situation, but God provided one. The almost 20 years since then have not always been easy. Lyle and I have had a lot of growing up to do, but God has not left us alone. The bounty that George Bailey found has been our experience too.

Lyle and I viewing hope (actually birds) through binoculars at High Lake

Frank Capra’s immortal Christmas film reminded me in ’93 and still reminds me that despite appearances that sometimes make it seem otherwise, it’s indeed a “wonderful life”. The message from my angel tells me, “Remember Lydie, no one is a failure who has friends who hold Christ’s candle of hope for you in the darkness.”

Another tradition I’ve done for probably 30 years is to look back and reflect on the year’s scribblings. Nowadays, I open up a new document on the computer, but in the “old days” I would get out pen and paper. Whatever the medium, I always start the same way. I write a heading on top: “2011 was the year that…”.

Sifting through a year’s worth of writing can be a painful process. It reminds me of what it must be like to go through the rubble of a demolition, combing through lots of useless stuff to find what’s worth keeping: the gold of the year. It’s hard not to wince at how many emotional ups and usually downs I have, and I begin to utter prayers to live with greater equanimity for the next year. (I’m still waiting for that to happen!) I’m so prone to emotional dramas (though the person who might not know me that well may not guess it).

I used to summarize the year with the “3 best and 3 worst” events of the year. But I would always realize how the “worsts” were usually not that black and white. God uses each difficult situation as an opportunity to learn some hard-won lessons, when I am receptive (please remind me of this next time I start to complain!)

So, here are some highlights of my year; the ways God has been faithful to me in pouring out “grace upon grace”, as a verse in the Bible poetically puts it. Not the best, not the worst, just ways that God has met me this year.

• This blog – In April, something happened which has been a huge blessing. An area newspaper called “West Central Streets” that I’d written for folded in February. In this writing void, I mentioned to my friend Bev that I’d been thinking of starting my own blog. The only problem was that I couldn’t think of a hook or theme to hang my thoughts on. It didn’t take before Bev, always the encourager, suggested that I use an old question that Paul gave me years ago, “Where was God in your day?” It has become a spiritual discipline that has helped to form my thoughts every week. My usual habit is to ride the waves of emotions within, but the trouble is that these do not have much wisdom in them! Emotional thinking does much to distract me from the calling I’ve heard to follow God’s path. So the blog has helped me each week to reach deeper within and articulate the ways I’ve seen God’s hand at work. Some weeks I wonder if I’ll come up with something, but it’s more like God comes up with something for me. I feel as though God has been creating a new language for me -  a language of hope.

•   Turning 50 – I asked my friends to choose a poem to read at my 50^th birthday “Poetry
  

  Surrounded by love at 50

  Slam and Potluck”. Everyone rose to the occasion and the poems brought a sense of wonder and depth to a great evening with dear friends. Another huge highlight of this party was that Paul said yes to writing a birthday homily for me – a short meditation of what it means to grow older. I have known Paul since I was 12 years old when he came to speak in the church I grew up in. At that time, he’d read a poem which struck me and which I later asked him for a copy of. Now, some 38 years later, he still had a relevant word for me. Sometimes the first half of life can remind us all too starkly of how we have failed to be the people we want to be, but Paul reminded me that he has seen the face of Christ shine in me. I felt incredibly blessed listening to his kind and gracious and faithful words. Read the homily here. It is called “The Shining: Lydia’s 50^th Birthday Party”.

• Singing – Singing at the seniors home with my friends Eldon and Marilyn has been a blessing this year, as I’ve often written about. Like the blog, it is a place where I am reminded of my deeper values. The seniors in their fragility help me remember that my job (or whatever else is distracting me) is not nearly as important as I think.

• Lessons in limitation – This year I was thrown into disorientation when neck problems meant I had to give up running for a while. Limitation always brings with it lessons of leaning on God. In a society which values independence and youthful strength, we want to brush aside times of trouble. One thing I usually learn pretty quickly is how body obsessed I can get, mistakenly thinking that God is only present when I am comfortable. I always remember (usually through the nudges of friends) that hope does not lie in appointments or “cures”, but in God who is a friend in all circumstances.

• Strength in study – Every year at Watershed, Wednesday nights are dedicated to the study of scripture and faith matters. I am definitely not a scholar, and I’m sure many would say the same, but there is something that happens each week as we study together. The actual evening plus the reading and questions we answer to prepare ourselves, are always life-giving, rooting all of us in a deeper life. It’s like taking a multi-vitamin which somehow re-orients my perspective. This year we studied 1^st and 2^nd Samuel (Old Testament) and a book by Marcus Borg called Reading the Bible Again for the First Time: How to Read the Bible Seriously but not Literally. 

• Movie Night – Watershed also hosts the “West End Movie Group” which meets once every 2 months with the outside community to watch and reflect on a movie. Through the leadership of Linda Tiessen Wiebe and Lyle Penner, we always have great discussions afterwards. I have never been failed to be encouraged by these evenings. 2011 movies included Troubled Waters, The Big Kahuna, Of Gods and Men, Get Low, Departures, Mary and Max, and the PBS video series “God in America”.

• Reading – Every year, I pick my top reads of the year. Reading is another one of those mercies which keeps me anchored in what matters most. This year I had 14 to choose from (down from 20 last year, ouch!). And the winners are:

• Top (non-fiction) novel/memoir: Even Silence Has An End: My Six Years of Captivity in the Columbian Jungle by Ingrid Betancourt. Recommended by Bev, this memoir honorably exhibited all the best that I love in reading: a story, well written, of strength and faith winning the day in the face of extreme adversity.
• Top non-fiction/theology: Reading the Bible Again for the First Time: Taking the Bible Seriously but not Literally, by Marcus Borg. This is a very clearly written book with excellent content to accompany our Wednesday night study from September to December, 2011. I enjoyed each chapter and the reflections and encouragements it prompted. It is highly recommended if you are looking to understand more deeply the most highly purchased but least read book in the world.

• Podcasts – I often jokingly say that I can’t give up running because that’s when I listen to some great podcasts. My top favorites are:

• On Being with Krista TIppet. This show from the States has weekly conversations about “religion, meaning, ethics and ideas”. I think my top favorite of the year is a show with a favorite Biblical scholar and author Walter Brueggeman.
• Tapestry (from CBC) – Though I don’t listen to each week’s broadcast, this show often has themes of meaning and faith. My favorite from the year has to be one about hope with author and nun Joan Chitteser.
• CBC’s Canada Live, which features a concert by a Canadian group. For someone like me who tends to stay with my tried and true favorites, it’s a great way to be exposed to new music. Favorites concerts of the year were those of Matt Anderson, Ray Bonneville, Danny Michel and Kim Dunn.
• I also love and would highly recommend The Moth  (“true stories told live”) and This American Life with Ira Glass.

• Best Blog – I have followed a blog written by Winnipeger Bill Howdle when the Free Press wrote about it a few years back. He calls it the “Dying Man’s Daily Journal”, so named when his doctor told him at age 52 that he was dying of a brain tumor and of congestive heart failure. He is 56 now and I’m sure he’d say that writing his blog keeps him alive. This year I left my “lurker status” to thank him on his blog for giving me the idea to start my own, and since then we have corresponded back and forth. He has been an encouragement and next week he and his wife Vi have even invited me over for coffee.

• Holiday at High Lake – In early July, we joined friends Dave and Lorna in their rented cabin near Falcon Lake. I saw God’s “Yes” in their generosity and kindness in their gracious hospitality. We laughed a lot (for example, at an army of mice in the cabin which prompted side splitting jokes), ate great food, listened to a retreat by favorite author Richard Rohr (and Ron Rollenheiser), almost sank a canoe and listened to wolves howling at midnight.
  

  A Sinking Canoe!

Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read my blog this year and provide encouragement, whether in the comment section, emails or in person.

What about you? What were some ways life has shown you the face of God this past year?

~ Helen Keller