11 Years Ago Today

Eleven years ago today Dad was under the knife ... unexpected open heart surgery ... triple bypass the result. We read all of that this evening in Mum's Daily Light, where Mum used to note the events of each day in the margin and which Dad reads every day. It's a history of our family, along with the ever-present backdrop of God's faithfulness



This evening, Dad stood up to preach in the little Baptist church housed in the tiny old Orthodox building in Kindersley.

This evening is also notable because it is the first series of sermons he has been able to preach since we thought we were losing him in January.

Truly God has His hand on Dad!

 His text for the evening was from Isaiah chapter 44, verses 21 and 22:

Isaiah 44:21-22

King James Version (KJV)

21 Remember these, O Jacob and Israel; for thou art my servant: I have formed thee; thou art my servant: O Israel, thou shalt not be forgotten of me.

22 I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins: return unto me; for I have redeemed thee.

He spoke of the five things this passage tells us to remember -

• You are My servant
• I have formed you
• I will never forget you
• I have blotted out all your sin, all your failings
• I have redeemed you; indeed I paid the ultimate price for you.

And in exchange, there is one thing He asks us to do -

• Return unto Me

It seems so little to ask in return, really. And, like the prophet Malachi, in chapter 3 and verse 7, states: " Return to Me and I will return to you." He is more than willing to meet us more than half-way.

This evening as we rested in our motel room - loving provided for us by the church - Dad read from the Psalms, as is his wont:

Psalm 116

King James Version (KJV)

116 I love the Lord, because he hath heard my voice and my supplications.

2 Because he hath inclined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live.

3 The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell got hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow.

4 Then called I upon the name of the Lord; O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul.

5 Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; yea, our God is merciful.

6 The Lord preserveth the simple: I was brought low, and he helped me.

7 Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee.

8 For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling.

9 I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living.

10 I believed, therefore have I spoken: I was greatly afflicted:

11 I said in my haste, All men are liars.

12 What shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits toward me?

13 I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord.

14 I will pay my vows unto the Lord now in the presence of all his people.

15 Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.

16 O Lord, truly I am thy servant; I am thy servant, and the son of thine handmaid: thou hast loosed my bonds.

17 I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and will call upon the name of the Lord.

18 I will pay my vows unto the Lord now in the presence of all his people.

19 In the courts of the Lord's house, in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem. Praise ye the Lord.

Dad is God's servant; God still is using Dad, whether it be praying for people, speaking one on one with someone, conducting his Bible studies on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, singing, writing.

Or whether it be preaching.

As the last verse says, Praise the Lord ...

If a Picture Is Worth 1000 Words, What Are 1000 Prayers Worth?

This picture, for starters ...

Yesterday morning an anxious 22-year-old grandson made his way to Deb's home. He opened the front door and was greeted by a dear, familiar voice:

"How's my boy?"

"There's my Poppa!" he exclaimed, his voice catching in his throat.

And indeed, our beloved Dad / Poppa / Grandpa / Bop / brother/ uncle / pastor / teacher / mentor / friend is showing remarkable signs of unmistakably improved health. 

  
We often quote the words of that ancient sage, Job: The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away ..." 

Sunday morning the Lord gave - "strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow."

" ... Blessed be the name of the Lord."

Of Para-flus and Paracletes

The results are in: Dad's H1N1 test came back negative, but he tested positive for para influenza, which in most healthy people will run its course in 3 - 10 days.

But Dad has pulmonary fibrosis and struggles for breath now ...

Certain words fascinate me. For example, cleave means both to cling together and to slice apart.

Flammable and inflammable mean the same thing.

And para has a number of meanings and uses. Wikipedia gives a succinct summary of two definitions that seem contrary, that seem to be at odds with each other:

- a prefix widely used in various compound words (para-olympic, para-medic, para-gliding etc.) which can signify alternately: "alongside, altered, beyond, contrary," originating from the Greek preposition para that means: "beside, next to, near, from," and also, "against, contrary to," similar with Sanskrit para "beyond." 

Para influenza has made my Dad's heart race far too fast; has made his concentrator pump out oxygen levels at a rate of 4 litres rather than 2; has made him cough up vile green gunk; has forced him to sleep 18 hours a day; has zapped his strength; has almost curtailed even minimal movement. It is certainly against, certainly contrary to, what we want for him. It might even have altered the course we thought was charted for him.

But through it we have seen many people come alongside, beside, next to, and near him. Paracletes have encircled him with love and concern and practical guidance.

Wikipedia, again, describes paraclete as follows:

Paraclete comes from the Koine Greek word παράκλητος (paráklētos, that can signify "one who consoles or comforts, one who encourages or uplifts; hence refreshes, and/or one who intercedes on our behalf as an advocate in court"). The word for "Paraclete" is passive in form, and etymologically (originally) signified "called to one's side".

Let me give you just a few examples:

Dr Rimmer - his pulmonologist who, after assessing Dad and wanting to admit him, went and checked the realities of the bed situation in the hospital and reluctantly decided that he would receive better care and rest at Deb's home ("You're sensible," Dr R said to Deb!). From that time she has called frequently to check up on her patient, exhibiting the same level of care and compassion she has always given Dad over these years. Last night she called at 7:45 - what other doctor does that any more?! - and discussed with Deb the plan of care and action that she feels would be best for Dad in the short-, medium- and long-term.

What other doctor calls at 7:45 in the evening? Dr Husain, that's who - Dad's family doctor in Three Hills and someone whose family we have grown to love as an extension of our own. Deb apologetically called him at home, and he immediately phoned a late-night pharmacy in Calgary with a prescription to ease the excruciating cramps that Dad was experiencing from the Tamiflu. He called upon the recommendation of

Dr Naomi Chelli Gunti, the eldest of the Chelli kids, who called from the States to see how Uncle was doing. She listened while Deb went over the symptoms and as they were discussing treatment options, she said, "Deb, what about the drug that's used for the unbearable cramping caused by Crohn's disease?" Deb called Dr Husain, who agreed that this could work and called the Rx in. Dad has not suffered that terrible pain since.

Zeba Husain - Zeba, Dr Husain's wife, cares very deeply for Dad and on Saturday she called me just as I was closing the TH to head up and see Dad. "Karyn, I've made some khichdi [kitcheree] for Uncle Allan - will you take it to him?" I gladly agreed. When I got to Deb's house I said to her, "Zeba made khichdi for Dad ..." and she immediately took it, saying, "Dad asked for khichdi this morning!" Zeba, you were the direct answer to what he needed that night and I thank you for your sensitivity to the promptings you felt to make that ultimate comfort food for Dad.

Almost too weak to eat, Dad managed to swallow some of Zeba's khichdi

Flowers and flags - Peter and Mel Mal's girls came to the TH on Saturday: "We made a picture / a flag for your Dad!" He has them on his window sill ... And that same day Naomi and John, and Sue and Les, sent beautiful flower arrangements, reminding us of all the beauty to be appreciated in the ashes of the situation we were facing. Debby cleaned the TH for me so that I could get to Calgary. Don and Norma came over and got me back on my feet again on Sunday afternoon.

Dozens of you have called, left messages, sent cards, written words of encouragement for Dad and us - and he has read EVERY comment, asking about the people he doesn't know personally and asking God to bless them for their kindness.

There are five very special paracletes who have come alongside their Grandpa / Poppa / Bop whenever they can. Luke, Craig, Matthew, Elliot and Oliver - how he loves you boys! His spirits brighten measurably upon a visit from you guys. There is no doubt how much you love each other and him. 

And THOUSANDS of people are praying. You are all paracletes as you have come alongside Dad, bringing him before the throne of grace around the clock.

The most valuable Paraclete of all for Dad - for all those who have trusted in Christ - is God the Holy Spirit. This is how He is described in the gospel of John: counsellor, helper, encourager, advocate, comforter ... the one who makes free. As you all pray, Dad feels the presence of God and the power of all your prayers in a very real way.

I and my family - siblings, nephews, aunts and uncles - have derived much comfort and love from your outpourings of sympathy. But two special reassurances were given to me personally that have brought me peace regardless of whatever lies ahead.

The first was a comment left by Sumitra. Sumitra was in the group of men who met Dad as he disembarked off that ship 55 years ago in the port of Bombay. He and Dad studied together, prayed together, served together, preached together, ate together, laughed and cried together. He has always held a very special spot in my parents' hearts,

This dear man's comment read: "Dear Karyn, sorry to learn of your dear Dad's ill health. Be assured of my prayers for recovery of his health. I praise the Lord for Bro. Allan's input in my life. I remember welcoming him in Mumbai 55 years ago. God has made him blessing to many through his and yes through your Mum's simple life style and teaching because of which many are serving the Lord and I am one of them. Be encouraged, Dad will be well soon."

I could not help but think of the story recorded in the gospel of John chapter 4 about the nobleman whose son was dying. He sought Jesus out and begged Him to come to the house to heal his son. Jesus said only six words: "Go thy way; thy son liveth" (verse 50). And the child did. When I read Sumitra's last seven words, it was as if the Lord Jesus Christ himself spoke them to me. Those last seven words broke through my grief and despair.

And then Tuesday morning, Dad was too weak to read, so he asked me to read the morning passage from the Daily Light devotional that Mum read and recorded events of note in for years.

The captioned verse was this: As Your Days, So Shall Your Strength Be

My breath caught in my throat and I checked the date. You see, last year, on February 27, I boarded the plane a few days ahead of Dad, BA and Deb as I was flying on points and had to leave on that day. I had been worried about Dad's low energy levels and the long flight ahead. God brought this verse to my mind, and I have claimed it on behalf of Dad almost every day since then. "As many days as You want him on this earth, give him strength for each one," I ask. 

Yet for the past few days, since Thursday, I must confess to my shame that I had completely forgotten about it.

But my Paraclete gently reminded me that God is in control by sending the verse I had been praying for almost a year directly back to me right when I needed it most. Not only that, the entire reading is of encouragement and strength. Truly God's timing is impeccable ...

Sitting on the floor beside his bed:
"someone to watch over me"

There are two more paracletes I must mention. The first is our beloved Deb, who faithfully cared for Dad and continues to care for him. She it has been who sat up with him on those first critical nights, monitoring his pulse and O2 levels, giving medicine, holding the straw to his mouth so he could take a few sips of liquid, washing him, cooling his forehead and piling on hot water bottles and blankets as he shivered his way through his fever until it broke. She has had very little sleep in the last week, but she never once expressed even that she was tired.

As a matter of fact, at the conclusion of Dr Rimmer's most recent phone call, Dr R applauded Deb: "You managed very well the care of a patient who should have been admitted." Thank you, Deborah Joy, from all of us who love him and you.

The last paraclete is our beloved Dad himself. In an almost whisper he marvelled at the prayers offered up on his behalf from the people of God all over the world. "I am so blessed," he murmured. That Tuesday afternoon he finally felt able to pray aloud, asking God's blessing on our simple lunch. And after he thanked God for the food, these are the words he said next, the ellipses indicating where he had to pause for a breath:

We remember others ... just as sick ... weaker ... more needy ... without people to pray for them ... Hold them in your tender mercies ... Heal them ... Forgive them ... Restore them ... Comfort them ... Meet their needs ... today.

Amen.

If a Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words ...

... here's 2000 words, with a full heart of gratitude:




Dad at the lab this morning ...

Dad, home at Deb's, this afternoon.













Bronwyn reported the words he was reading, from the gospel of John chapter 10:

27 My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me:

28 And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.

He is still very weak, but he has turned a corner; and his pulmonologist called and the H1N1 test came back negative! They have to find out what is wrong, but for now we are so grateful for what is wonderful ...

OK, you get 3000 words - per Bronwyn, "Now that the patient is doing better, the cute little nurse can rest!"

On the floor, next to the couch he's lying on ...

THANK YOU, all who have prayed and continue to pray for him. When Dad's reading his Bible again, all's right with the world!

Advent 2013, Week 4: Love for the World, and for Me

On this last Sunday before Christmas, Pastor Allan lit the fourth candle and said that today we would talk about Love.

But we wouldn't waste our time on the "Man, I love pizza!" or "I just love walking in the snow on a quiet moonlit night ..." kind of expression by which we have diluted the meaning of the word.

In these troubled times of war, famine, flood, cancer, abuse, disease, homelessness, anger, loneliness, depression - we could go on and on - we often lose sight of the fact that God is a loving God.

But God does love us. God is love, and everything He does - or allows to happen - is based on that love. John chapter 3 and verse 16 says that God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son that whosoever believes on Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.

When God loves, He takes action. His love is not based on an emotional response that could change by the next day

The gospel written by Matthew, chapter 1 and verses 18 - 25 never mentions the word love in it, but it is the story of Joseph who loves first God, and then Mary, the young woman to whom he is betrothed. Joseph's love came at a high cost to himself: he would have been scorned for the rest of his life as the cuckolded husband. But because of love, he did exactly what the angel said and married Mary, raising Jesus as his own son.

Pastor Allan pointed out that God's love is not exclusionary; John 3:16 says that God love the world - everyone. Anyone who believes on Him, regardless of background, is welcomed by Him.

The Lord Jesus Christ came to die for the whole world, Pastor Allan went on; "but He would have done the same thing if it had been just me." 

I was sitting with this thought as I went to sleep on Sunday night. And it was illustrated for me so perfectly the very next day, through another Allan.

My brother has been doing some renovations for me, and everything was accomplished with his usual precision, attention to detail, and distinctive eye for the beauty that can be found in the mundane. I couldn't have been more pleased with the result.

But after lunch, when I was cutting up a pan of Norma's inimitable Rice Krispies squares for dessert, I sliced the tip of my thumb fairly deeply. "Ahhhhhh!" I cried out.

Then from the table came "Karyn!" - my name from my brother's lips uttered with such concern, such immediacy, such anguish, such deep love. I have heard that exact sound only once before in my life ...

... and it was also from my brother, and it was the morning of September 11, 2001. I had been working in Ottawa the night before and was due to fly in late September 10. There had been various issues with the plane but we finally made it to Calgary in the early hours of the morning, over four hours late.

I was in my house getting ready for the day when the phone rang. "Hello?" I answered, all unaware of how the world was changing.

"Karyn!" My brother's voice filled my ear, and then he burst into tears. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that you had gotten home okay ... I love you."

And on this past Monday afternoon, with blood dripping from the gash on my thumb and Allan's exclamations echoing in my head and heart, I completely understood what it meant that Jesus loves me. I could hear Him saying my name with even more intensity, more love, more depth of concern, than my brother had.

More than from his perfect workmanship, more than from everything else he has done for me over all these years - and it's been a lot - when he said my name in that particular way, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Allan loves me; and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God loves me. Love forces action; the love of God for us - for me - compelled Him to send His Son to effect reconciliation between a righteous God and unrighteous humankind.

If we love God, Pastor Allan went on, we too will be forced to love others as well. Jesus' commands were very simple: "Love the Lord your God; love your neighbour." It isn't possible to accomplish the second without experiencing the first. The Greek word ἀγάπη ("agape" pronounced agápē) came into use during the establishment of the early Christian church, denoting Christian love or charity not looking to advance its own ends but a reflection of God's love for us - a perfect love because it was not only voluntary but also unconditional. It was a sacrificial love so radical, so different, that it caused people to give up their wealth, their possessions, even their lives. The second-century Tertullian wrote in his Apology 39:  "What marks us in the eyes of our enemies is our loving kindness. 'Only look,' they say, 'look how they love one another.' " 

This Christmas season marks the greatest love of all, that God sent His Son - knowing full well the horrors of what would come 33 short years later when He was crucified - for all of us.

For Karyn.

Remembrance Day Canada ('Soldiers Cry' by Roland Majeau)

Of Sparrows and Black Purses and the Hair on Your Head

For about two weeks I had been searching for a new black handbag to replace the fairly old one that was wrecked last season.

I knew what I wanted: a slim purse with a pocket for keys, etc.; short strap so that it wouldn't weigh my poor shoulder down; it had to be elegant and leather. I found nothing: of course there were lovely handbags, but completely out of my price range. I tucked the purse shopping thoughts firmly into the back of my head and boarded the plane for Chicago.

The morning of the wedding we were attending dawned cool and clear. I was fretting because my hair, which I am trying to grow out, wasn't working at all. As I sat in the breakfast nook by myself after a delicious baked oatmeal breakfast, prepared with such love by the exquisite Mrs Shoaf, I heard a thud in the next room. Hurrying over to the window, I saw that a sparrow had hit the window and was now lying motionless.

As I stood there helplessly, Pastor Shoaf walked by and saw the direction of my gaze. "It's happened several times before," he remarked.

I remained on guard, and suddenly the little thing's chest puffed out and its feet started to quiver. Its head had not moved, however, and its eyes remained shut. I didn't know what to do: I thought wildly of dropping a brick on its twisted neck and putting it out of its misery: I thought of trying to flip it over to see if that would help it; and I realized that because of my paralysing fear of birds, the only thing I could do was ask God to put the tiny quivering thing out of its misery as fast as possible.



About 20 minutes passed. And suddenly - just when I was debating whether it would be frivolous to call Dad, who was getting ready to speak at the wedding that afternoon - the little sparrow opened its eyes, flipped over, and was gone in a flutter of wings!

I told the Shoafs and Dad, my heart pulsing with gratitude. Shortly after this, Mrs Shoaf took me to a drug store to buy a gift bag - we had just a few minutes. The bag was the easiest thing to choose; but just down the aisle from the card section, I spied something sparkling on a shelf. Like a magpie I darted toward it, and my eyes lighted on a package of sparkly bobby-pins - just the thing to tame the unruliness of my hair ...

And then at the wedding itself, a wonderful encounter: one of my dear childhood friends, Naomi, was also attending. We hadn't seen each other for 30 years!

Naomi and me - and the sparkly barrette!

We met again later at the reception, and Naomi handed me a large gift bag: "I wanted to get you some little thing ..." she said.

Trying to be polite, I placed the bag under the table, opening it only when we returned to the Shoafs' home that evening after the reception.

Inside was a cute collection of four Norman Rockwell mugs; a stylish "tea-for-two" set; and a black handbag.

A gorgeous black handbag.

Exactly the handbag I was looking for.

I showed it to Dad and Pastor and Mrs Shoaf.

Pastor S summed it up: "The sparrow ... the hair on your head ... the black handbag. I think God cares about you!"

Here's the childhood song we would sing together as little girls, my friend Naomi and I:

(Video found on YouTube, created by CelestinoZ)

Just As I Am

Tuesday morning I take my lunch hour from 10:00 - 11:00 and go to the Robertson Manor to play hymns on the little electric keyboard our friend Don sets up so faithfully each week. And I go to hear my Dad share a word of encouragement with "The Oldies" who gather to sing and share and pray and be blessed. 

Plus, we have snacks!

This morning was no different. There is no guest parking on site so Dad gets celebrity parking in the loading zone, per great kindness of Duane who runs the place. I parked across the road and met Dad at his car, to carry in the box of Dad's specialty chocolate cake that Deb had made ("under my instruction," he informed me!) and to carry in his Bible.

For me, getting to carry in his Bible is one of the greatest honours I receive. I feel like the flag bearer at the Olympics leading the way for Usain Bolt, where you know a gold medal is virtually guaranteed.

Brenda or Wes opens the door for us. Today it was Wes, smiling, welcoming. When Wes is there, it's another sign that it's going to be a great little meeting, because he is a man of deep faith and he prays that "Pastor Ironside" will have the words God wants him to say, the strength he needs to keep sharing God's love with people, and that each soul present will be blessed.

We start the little meeting off by singing three songs, people's choice. The last song we sang today, chosen by our dear Julie - who also made cookies for us! - was that ancient beauty Just As I Am:

Just as I am, without one plea, 
but that thy blood was shed for me, 
and that thou bidst me come to thee, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come. 

Just as I am, and waiting not 
to rid my soul of one dark blot, 
to thee whose blood can cleanse each spot, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come. 

Just as I am, though tossed about 
with many a conflict, many a doubt, 
fightings and fears within, without, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come. 

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind; 
sight, riches, healing of the mind, 
yea, all I need in thee to find, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come. 

Just as I am, thou wilt receive, 
wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve; 
because thy promise I believe, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come. 

Just as I am, thy love unknown 
hath broken every barrier down; 
now, to be thine, yea thine alone, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come. 

(Charlotte Elliot, 1789-1871)

As the last notes died away, Dad asked if anyone had read today's devotional from Oswald Chambers'  My Utmost for His Highest. "It ties in exactly with thesong we have just sung!" he exclaimed.

This is what it says:

Coming to Jesus



10

08

2013



Come to Me . . . —Matthew 11:28



Isn’t it humiliating to be told that we must come to Jesus! Think of the things about which we will not come to Jesus Christ. If you want to know how real you are, test yourself by these words— “Come to Me . . . .” In every dimension in which you are not real, you will argue or evade the issue altogether rather than come; you will go through sorrow rather than come; and you will do anything rather than come the last lap of the race of seemingly unspeakable foolishness and say, “Just as I am, I come.” As long as you have even the least bit of spiritual disrespect, it will always reveal itself in the fact that you are expecting God to tell you to do something very big, and yet all He is telling you to do is to “Come . . . .”

“Come to Me . . . .” When you hear those words, you will know that something must happen in you before you can come. The Holy Spirit will show you what you have to do, and it will involve anything that will uproot whatever is preventing you from getting through to Jesus. And you will never get any further until you are willing to do that very thing. The Holy Spirit will search out that one immovable stronghold within you, but He cannot budge it unless you are willing to let Him do so.

How often have you come to God with your requests and gone away thinking, “I’ve really received what I wanted this time!” And yet you go away with nothing, while all the time God has stood with His hands outstretched not only to take you but also for you to take Him. Just think of the invincible, unconquerable, and untiring patience of Jesus, who lovingly says, “Come to Me. . . .”



As I looked around the table, I saw those old saints nodding in agreement. I thought to myself, We think of that song and we sing that song as though it is only a song to get people to walk the aisle at the end of a church service, while in this very room we have people tossed about with fears, conflicts, doubts; we have the blind; we have those whose spouses yearn for healing of the mind for their beloved one; we have those who are indigent. No wonder they sang with such fervour, "Just as I am ... O Lamb of God, I come!"









These wonderful old people, who are being nudged inexorably, day by day, closer to the very presence of the one to whom they were singing, offered the words as a prayer of hope and encouragement.






And I was so very, very grateful for the reminder that just as I am, with all my sin and trouble and pain, I too can come and leave it all with the Lamb of God, who wants more than anything to have me come to him and trust him with everything I have.

The Tru-man Event

The September Event this year was last Friday, October 4 - my September schedule being so frenetic - and with Elliot. He chose to go to Kane's Harley Davidson Diner in Inglewood ...

















... followed by a trip to Recordland where you can choose three CDs for $25 - and where, when he chose an obscure jazz artist, the erudite, knowledgeable store assistant looked at him with deepening respect.

On his first trip to Recordland!

The best part of the Event this month, as is true for most months and most Events, was the conversation. Elliot is discovering a new interest, and that is films. And - being Elliot - he doesn't merely watch the film; he digs deep, peeling back the layers to get to the core truth.

This Event we talked mainly about one movie: The Truman Show.

I have never seen this film; but now I know that I want to, and with Elliot and Elliot's Granny. Elliot quoted it, dissected it, elaborated on themes, alluded to the poignant passages - by the time he was finished, I felt almost as if I had watched TTS with him ...

The thought of the for the most part happy, strangely vulnerable, Truman growing up unaware of his artificially maintained existence; the parallels between TTS and CS Lewis's The Screwtape Letters; the authenticity of life in general and of our own lives in particular, and what constitutes a "real" life anyway.


How do we know what's real?

This lovely boy, teetering on the cusp of manhood, and I didn't stop talking as we drove from place to place, as we ate, as we checked out the CD options, as we dashed through Costco, as I paused long enough to dump him unceremoniously off in his driveway because of my abbreviated time allotment for Superstore before picking Dad up to head home.

We talked about how things change, how people move on - our grouchily dear Armand Cohen (who, in 1997 helped me catch the guys who broke into my apartment and stole a bunch of my stuff including my CD collection - but that's another story!), at 71 years old, had only three weeks earlier decided to retire from Recordland, leaving it in his sons' care - but how there is a thread of continuity, a measure of grace, to be found from birth through death and even beyond.

As I thought about our time together, I realized that we, he and I both, like Truman, are tapping timorously against the blue screen of the boundaries of our lives; we are learning discernment; we are working out our own salvation.

And in our season of change and thanksgiving, I am so very thankful that this wonderful young man, who is one of God's greatest gifts to my life, said to me as we skittered through the cars blocking the crosswalk, "I love our Events, Auntie K."

Me too. And in case I don't see you later, good afternoon, good evening and good night!

_________________________________

Here's a clip of some of the final moments in The Truman Show:

Perhaps Patricia

At the beginning of 1959, just before my Dad was to set sail from Port Arthur, Texas, for Bombay, India, he stopped for a few days with his elder sister, Mary, who lived in Texas at the time.

And he got to meet and know Mary's eldest child, Patricia. Patty.

Dad forged a bond with Patty in that short time that remains to this day. As a matter of fact it's flitted through my mind, like a breeze through sheets hanging on a clothes line on a fragrant summer afternoon, that the warmth of Dad's affection for his little Patty predisposed him - a stranger in a strange land - to look toward a familiar name when he heard it, to look in the direction of another girl named Patricia, a girl with brown eyes and an enormous heart who would become his wife a couple of years later.

My eldest cousin, Patty stayed with Dad for the last few days and was with us yesterday, the sixth anniversary of Mum's death.

Eight yellow flowers growing on one stem ...

Both our Patricias know what it is to suffer. Like Mum, Patty has undergone brutal treatment for cancer - and, also like Mum, her indomitable spirit and her deep strength of character have carried her through.

Like Mum, Patty is warm and loving.

She's quick and funny.

She connects with people.

She came along with Dad to the Manor on Tuesday and to our Wednesday TH Bible study yesterday - the actual anniversary of Mum's death. 

Dad is guiding us through Paul's tiny letter to Philemon on Wednesday evenings - you'd think that it would take one study, right?! But Dad is revealing a wealth of meaning and such a source of challenge and comfort through this little book.

This Wednesday he addressed three topics: Prayer, Human Nature, and The Providence of God, all as seen in the letter to Philemon.

The providence of God has been defined by Henry C. Thiessen in his book Lectures in Systematic Theology:

Etymologically, the word “providence” means foreseeing. From this basic
idea has developed the meaning of providing for the future. But in theology
the word has received a more specialized meaning. In this field, “providence”
means that continuous activity of God whereby he makes all the events of
the physical, mental, and moral realms work out his purpose, and this
purpose is nothing short of the original design of God in creation. To be sure,
evil has entered the universe, but it is not allowed to thwart God’s original,
benevolent, wise, and holy purpose. [Emphasis added is the part Dad quoted.]

(1989: Wm B Eerdmans Publishing Company, Grand Rapids, Michigan, p. 122 ff)


Dad asked the question "If God is not the author of sin, how do we explain the horrible acts of sin if God is ruling over all? How is God related to [humankind's] sinful acts?"

Providence, Dad went on to say, is manifest in four ways:

Preventative Providence, where God restrains a person from the sin he or she is intending to commit: Genesis chapter 20 verse 6 is an example of this.

Permissive Providence is where God sometimes permits sin to take its course: the book of Acts chapter 1 and verse 16, and Psalm 81 verse 12 is God telling how He let people go their own way.

Directive Providence is where God allows evil to occur, but He directs the way it goes in order to accomplish His will: John 13:21-27 is the tragic vignette where Jesus tells Judas Iscariot to "do quickly" what he intends to do.

Restrictive Providence reveals God determining the limits to which evil and its effects may go: the book of Job chapter 1 verse 12, and chapter 2 verse 6 shows God saying to Satan, "So far, but no further."

In the letter to Philemon Paul is pleading with his friend for mercy to be extended to the latter's runaway slave, Onesimus. In the 15th verse Paul says, with great gentleness and insight, Perhaps he left you for a while so that he would return to you forever ...

The word perhaps in Philemon opens the door to the doctrine of Providence, Dad commented.

The other notable occasion the sense of this word is used is in the little book telling the story of Queen Esther: Esther chapter 4 and verse 14 gives us Mordecai, Esther's uncle, speaking to her fairly sternly regarding her responsibility to her people. "Who knows whether [Perhaps] you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?"

There is more written in the Bible about the providence of God than about creation, Dad observed; and yet the word itself is never used. God cares about every aspect of our lives - if it's big enough for you to be concerned about, it's big enough for God to be concerned about. He has known us and cared about us from before we were born.

As I sat across the room from my beautiful cousin, who had no idea when she planned her itinerary that she would be here on such a significant date to our part of the family, I thought of her and my arms entwined as we shed tears and supported each other in remembering our mothers at Mum's graveside. I thought of the songs we sang, BA, Dad, Patty and I, into the sting of cold air that held no victory that day. 

For each one of us who has watched helplessly while a dream dies and we are left with a yawning hole stretched out before us, perhaps there is more to this story as we trace the providence of God working its mysterious way through our life? I think of my own life, of dreams that shattered or shifted last year and this one. Now, in hindsight, I can see the hand of God smoothing the way for me, guiding me in a new way, restoring my soul in ways I could not have imagined at the time.

And I thought to myself, Perhaps Patty was with us on this particularly hard anniversary, both for us and for her?

"Praise the Lord for the word perhaps ..." Dad ended.