And His Mother's Name Was ...

Today's reading from the 2014 edition of the Choice Gleanings calendar, a daybook our family has read each morning for years, reminded me anew how much influence our mothers have on us:

In the seventh year of Jehu, Jehoash began to reign; and forty years reigned he in Jerusalem, and his mother’s name was Zibiah. And Jehoash did that which was right in the sight of the Lord all his days, in which Jehoiada, the priest, instructed him. 

2 Kings 12:1-2

The little phrase “and his mother’s name was,” appears 23 times in the Old Testament. The significance seems to be the influence each mother had on her son. With the help of the priest of the Lord, Zibiah's son was properly instructed and he was enabled to carry out his responsibilities with God’s approval. A godly mother is a treasure and one for whom Mother’s Day should be celebrated!     —David McCulloch

I live in a world where men feature prominently these days, and I see firsthand the impact their mothers have had on their lives.

Just a couple of weeks ago I had the privilege of meeting my friend Derek's mom, Diana. This lovely lady, who until her recent retirement held positions of responsibility in the corporate world, nonetheless has ensured that her priority is her home and her son. I watched the easy interaction between the two of them, the way she could anticipate his words and actions, the way he would step in to help her in little ways around the kitchen table where we sat.

I've also seen the impact that the loss of a mother can mean. I remember a man close to me remarking that exactly one week after his mother passed away he "could feel the loss of her prayers."

I've never been privileged to have a child of my own; but I have had the privilege of working closely with numbers of young people over the years, particularly in the Tea House. This reading gave me pause. We women, do we consciously take the time to realise the importance our sway is in the lives of the impressionable children God has given us? Some of the 23 mothers listed in the Old Testament were not wise in their dealings with their children, causing detriment to the child as well as domino-like calamity to people and situations around that child.

Here, off the top of my head, is a list of 23 names of mothers who influence sons who have an impact in my life in some way. I'll start with Derek's:

• And his mother's name was Diana Cleland
• And his mother's name was Ruth Ironside
• And his mother's name was Brenda Spilsbury
• And his mother's name was Zeba Husain
• And his mother's name was BA Ironside
• And their mother's name was Angela Ironside
• And their mother's name was Bronwyn Spilsbury
• And his mother's name was Irene Walsh
• And his mother's name was Katherine Creasser
• And his mother's name was Darlene Johnson
• And his mother's name was Alice Tateson
• And his mother's name was Debbie Tateson
• And his mother's name was Muriel Kirk
• And his mother's name was Marion Warnock
• And his mother's name was Jeanne Carlzon
• And his mother's name was Eileen King
• And his mother's name was Margaret Kremer
• And his mother's name was Thankamma Cherian
• And their mother's name was Salome Cherian
• And his mother's name was Evelyn Ironside
• And their mother's name was Merah Chelli
• And their mother's name was Jacqueline Benavides
• And his mother's name was Patricia O'Halloran Ironside 

You are your mothers' sons. And I am so thankful for each of them.

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.

2014: Never Alone

It was upon us again, my most treasured tradition of the year: New Year's Eve with my family.

We met at the Tea House because it seems that we really do need a fire place for the occasion; we started with hors d'oeuvres and sparkling apple cider and frappuccinos; we played a few rounds of a game; and then, just after 11:30 pm, it was time.










The table by the fire place was cleared off and the tray containing the promises for the year was brought over.


We sang some songs from the cherished song book that BA had carefully typed out all those years ago. Dad read a few verses from the Bible. A few people said what they were thankful for about the year making its exit. Allan prayed. 

And then Dad  lit the candle in the centre of the tray upon which the promises he had typed out rested, and moved the whole plate to a table in the middle of the room.

Selection order this year was decreed to be youngest to oldest, so Matt went first.






 When it got to my turn, I silently committed the selection of my promise to God, asking for a verse that would show me how He would meet my needs, known and unknown, for the coming year. 

And I chose a green ribbon this year.

 
In the last few weeks of 2013 I had been contemplating my life, my work, my relationships, my future. I had asked for wisdom and guidance. I had asked for security and reassurance.

And the verse I chose met me at each of those question marks: He will be there, with me and for me; He will help me; I do not have to be afraid.

Even though I don't know what this year holds, I know Who holds the year, and that is enough.

It was confirmed for me the next night when we were joined by Bronwyn's family and they drew their promises. Then someone asked Allan to "sing like George Beverly Shea," and this is the song he sang (this version is not GBS, but still a sweet rendition):

Many things about tomorrow

I don't seem to understand

But I know Who holds tomorrow

And I know Who holds my hand

Christmas 2013

After dinner there were presents, interspersed with moments for private conversation. 

"Blessing kiss": Dad and Bronwyn

With hearts full, we thought of the Creator of the world who, 2100 years ago, could find no place to lay His head; who spoke the world into being but yet had to gestate for nine full months before being born to Mary; who holds the world in His hands, and yet was fully dependent on His mother to care for Him.

And in gratitude we cry out with the song writer: "O come to my heart, Lord Jesus; there is room in my heart for Thee."

The Parents' 2013 Christmas Event

On the twelve days of Christmas your offspring gave to thee:

First we start with dinner,

Leonard Cohen's anthem,

Ineffectual stingers,

Bearing our sorrows,

Multitude of praisers,

Reassuring angel,

Little lights a-twinkling,

Wild honey pot!

Pretty shoes and dove,

That black sheep,

Crunchy bugle snacks, 

And their pictures on a gold tree


For the past six or seven years Elliot and Oliver have tried to do something to make their parents' Christmas sparkle. This year they decided on the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra's annual performance of Handel's Messiah.

But an Event has to have build-up, of course, and a lot of discussion including eating (also of course! The two boys and their Auntie K love to eat together!) ensued:

 Boston Pizza ...

Starbucks ...

Kinjo ...












We had to keep eating until we settled on the clues building up to December 6, and how it was all going to work. There was going to be one cryptic clue added to a tree each of the 11 days before the Messiah. Each clue would reference some song from the masterpiece.The last one - the one that invited The Parents to dinner - would be placed at the base of the tree on the morning of the 6th.

They were to tell their mother to take a picture of the tree each day and send it to Auntie K, who followed up on Facebook with the Twelve Days song you see above, as part of the clue.

They were not to give any other clues to The Parents until the last day.

Here are the solutions to the clues:



Day 12: Julia Child's confirmation trivet that we were on the right track, along with an invitation to Ruth's Chris Steakhouse

Day 11: The Hallelujah Chorus, of course!

Day 10: O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?

Day 9: He was despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.

Day 8: And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying:

Glory to God in the highest!

Day 7: (There were shepherds abiding in the field keeping watch over their flocks by night. And lo! The angel of the Lord came upon them and the glory of the Lord shone round about them and they were sore afraid.)

And the angel said unto them, Fear not; for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour which is Christ the Lord.

Day 6: The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: and they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.

Day 5: The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Day 4: How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace!

Day 3: All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way ...

Day 2: The trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible!

Day 1: For unto us a child is born; unto us a son is given!















After a mouth-watering experience at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse we ran through the Plus 15 walkways, very necessary to Calgary winters and gratefully received by our party this night, to the Jack Singer Concert Hall. We slipped into our seats - Row E Centre - just as Michael Hope, the CPO's second bassoonist and so much more, prepared to deliver his opening remarks and acknowledgments.

Here is the official review from the Calgary Herald:

http://www.calgaryherald.com/Guest+conductor+Ivars+Taurins+delivers+vivid+Messiah+performance/9260125/story.html

From our vantage point, five rows away from the stage, the soloists did full justice to Handel. Perhaps Daniel Taylor was more fragile than I have heard him in the past, but we wondered if he was battling a sore throat or the like as he seemed to sip more water than usual. As for baritone Peter Harvey, his delivery was consistently high and his "Trumpet Shall Sound" was fresh and triumphant. Tenor Colin Balzer launched the evening with "Comfort Ye" and we knew we were in for a treat. But the astonishing gift of the evening was soprano Sherezade Panthaki, whose voice soared to high D on one memorable run and who sang each of her solos with understanding, grace and deep sympathy. Her exquisite delivery made me want to weep, made me glad I was sitting next to Bronwyn, made me want to share the moment with my friends Jane and Mary.

Conductor Ivars Taurins has to be mentioned - what he drew out from the orchestra and chorus was nothing short of mesmerizing. It was a fresh, crisp, quick Messiah to be sure; but at the same time his profound knowledge of the work enabled him to let the soloists set their own pace, confident that he would rally the instruments and voices back into time. 

The Hallelujah Chorus left Bronwyn and me with tears rolling down our faces; and the Amen Chorus at the end sealed the evening, growing from a muted Amen to soar and swell in wave after wave until the rafters of the Jack Singer auditorium resounded with praise and confidence that "worthy [indeed] is the Lamb that was slain, and hath redeemed us to God by His blood, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing."

In my humble, untrained opinion, Handel's Messiah is like no other score ever written: its musicality and virtuosity is unquestioned, but it is more than that - it opens up the scriptures and sets the story of Jesus to music in a way never accomplished before or since. And this year's magnificent performance was one for the books.

The evening drew abruptly to a close as winter highway driving stared us in the face. Quick hugs and goodbyes and we went our separate ways, thanking God for Handel, thanking God for each other, thanking God for two young men who arrange a Christmas Event for their much-loved parents each December.

Hallelujah!

(Tafelmusik's recording of the Amen chorus; Ivars Taurins conducting)

Breakfast With Brent

I will never be a morning person, although most days I can steel myself to get up and at it when day breaks.

But one day this semester it was easy for me to get going: I was meeting Brent for breakfast at the Belmont Diner - take one of my most favourite breakfast places and add in one of my most favourite people, and you have the perfect recipe for a wonderful morning!

Who knew when I hired Brent so long ago that almost seven years later we would be sitting together over Cody Scramblers and coffee (I never could convince him of the merits of tea ...) and catching up on what had been going on in our lives?

Who knew that that bashful teenager would turn into a fully fledged adult able to think for himself and able to tackle what life throws at him, both the tough and the tender?

It hasn't been easy to achieve all that he has accomplished in these years. It's required single-minded dedication, discipline at a level we don't witness in many post-adolescents; a denying himself some of the many extracurricular activities that university life offers at every turn; and a determination to succeed in reaching his goals.

And in all those tough areas, he has indeed more than succeeded. 

Fortunately, there has always been in Brent a tender side too. He is part of Big Brothers / Big Sisters and every week he makes time for an elementary school kid who doesn't really know how to be a kid. Brent hangs out with him, plays games with him, and is generally the great big brother he's been to his own younger brother all these years. He also spends time with a senior citizen, going for coffee, listening to his stories. He's president of a mixed martial arts club. He runs marathons.

And - best of all! - he's met his match in a wonderful woman who complements him, challenges him, encourages him and cares for him.

The caption he has on this profile picture is "She's got it all" - and I would agree, because in addition to being more impressive, more endearing to me each time I've had the privilege of being in her company, I see how everything good she adds to his life, he brings back to hers.

Happy 22nd birthday, child of my heart. My Dad's life's verse is the one I want to leave you with as you enter into your last semester of undergrad and prepare for the fresh challenges ahead:

"Faithful is He who calls you, who also will do it." 1 Thessalonians 5:24 

I am so very proud to be your friend.

The Final Thank You for October

Judging from the number of posts, I am not very thankful! Quite the contrary - my heart has been brimming with gratitude this month more than most. God has been so good to me; my family has been so dear; friends have sustained me. I just haven't had the time.

One of my favourite days of this whole month was Thanksgiving Day itself, so I'm going to leave this season of gratitude with some pictures, accompanied by the words to our dear friend Martha Wunsch's favourite song:

How good is the God we adore

Our faithful, unchangeable friend

Whose love is as great as His power

And knows neither measure nor end!

'Tis Jesus, the First and the Last,

Whose spirit shall guide us safe home

We'll praise Him for all that is past

And trust Him for all that's to come!

Happy Thanksgiving Month, everyone!