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 ...

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.

  

This Time Last Year

At exactly this time last year I was standing at the foot of your bed, watching you. Your eyes were closed, and your breathing was belaboured again. I was just wondering if I should call the nurse to suction out your airwaves when she appeared. 

As she prepared to do what she had to do, you naturally became agitated. I slipped to the right side of your bed as she worked on the left, and I gripped one of your enormous hands with both of mine.

"Brian, it's okay. This will make you feel better. Try to relax ..."

Suddenly I felt your hand gripping back, the pressure increasing as the suction tube invaded your throat. Your eyes opened and you looked sidewards to your left at me. Our eyes locked and great drops of sweat broke out on your forehead. Your eyes mirrored the pain you were in, and my "encouraging words" faded into suddenly thin air. We just stared at each other, hanging on for dear life.

When it was over, you looked at me. Thank you, you said, softly but distinctively. Your eyes fluttered shut, exhausted. 

I got a cool, damp facecloth and gently wiped your forehead, allowing the refreshing cloth to rest on the top of your head as I had seen your beloved Char do countless times.

That was the last time I was to see your blue, blue eyes. 

Those were the last words you spoke, as far as we know.

It was just like you to express gratitude with your fading breath!

I had stopped by your room at about 10 pm on September 3, armed with my Daily Light and a soft pashmina shawl. I had arrived back from Calgary half an hour earlier and suddenly felt strongly that I needed to go to the hospital and spell Char off for a stretch.

Hesitantly I offered and gratefully she accepted. She was able to catch about four hours' sleep, which gave her the strength she needed to be beside you, watching you enter the gates of heaven the next morning.

The two nurses on duty during the night, Miriam and Karen, recognized my ignorance and incompetence while understanding my good intentions; they very kindly stopped by your room every single half hour to make sure everything was okay and to reassure both of us. 

I had been singing to you; praying for you and Char, and Rebecca and Bob; reading, both to you and silently; and just sitting at your side, wrapped in my pashmina, watching your face.

As you calmed and seemed to rest more easily, I sat back in the comfortable arm chair and became conscious of the comprehensive softness, the fluidity, of the shawl under which I was sheltering. And my mind flipped back to the previous Sunday, when Dad spoke from the book of Ruth. He focused on Boaz, the eventual husband of Ruth.

The story of Ruth from Moab is quite well known to many of us: she marries the handsome foreigner and is accepted by her mother-in-law; her husband, brother-in-law and father-in-law all die; her mother-in-law, Naomi, can't stand to be away from her home country any more so she tells her two daughters-in-law to go home and get on with their lives. They both demur, saying they'll stay with her. She insists; one goes back, but Ruth refuses to leave Naomi (isn't it interesting that one of the most romantic passages often used in weddings is actually spoken by a daughter-in-law to her mother-in-law?! Go figure ...).

In extreme brief: Naomi settles back into her community; Ruth sets out to get food for them and - it being harvest time - starts gleaning the left-over and missed crop in the fields of a wealthy land owner, who turns out to be a distant relative of Naomi; several exciting plot turns; Ruth and the wealthy land owner, named Boaz, get married and have a son, Obed, who has a son named Jesse, who has a son named David - and David becomes the second king of Israel.

What was of great interest to me, however, was what Dad had to say about Boaz's lineage. Boaz's father's name was Salmon. Salmon is derived from the root word simla, meaning garment or raiment. The book of Genesis, chapter 9 and verse 23 uses the same word, where two of Noah's son's took a garment and covered up their drunk, naked father. The word cover takes the meaning assuming the shape of the object beneath. The book of Deuteronomy chapter 8 and verse 4 exhorts the children of Israel to remember that for 40 years their garments didn't grow old or tattered on them. A soft garment doesn't care what size or shape you are; it takes your shape and offers protection and cover for you.

What Dad did then in the little Hanna church was get his childhood friend, Doreen, up on the platform. Then he gently placed a soft pink shawl over her shoulders. The shawl immediately adjusted to her posture and the angle of her back - it took her shape. The same shawl would look quite different on someone else, Dad commented.

The shawl reminded Dad of what God did for us. The book of Romans chapter 8 and verse 3 tells us that God sent his own son, who took on the shape of sinful humankind - our own personal simla! - and became the offering for our sin. Jesus himself covers us, protecting us from the dreadful consequences of our own wrong doing, if we accept his offer of salvation. Just like Ruth in the fields of Boaz, there is nothing we can do to earn this covering; all we have to do is accept it.

I was thinking of all of this when I sat at the foot of your bed, Brian, after the nurse had left. And on impulse I rose, unwrapped my soft shawl from around me and placed it gently over your torso and legs. You were lying so still, the only sound in the room your stertorous breathing. The shawl settled into the hillocks and hollows of your shape under the covers - it took on your shape. I prayed then into the silence, asking God to cover you with his protection and peace and rest. I asked him to assure you of his covering as you walked through that last valley.

Your breathing eased and you slipped into sleep. I left the shawl where it lay and stood watch over you until it was time for me to leave. There was no need for lung clearing for the rest of my time with you.

And I realized that these hours with you and with God comprised one of the most holy, one of the most peaceful, nights I had ever spent. I had been given the inestimable privilege of standing at the foot of your bed, knowing I was standing on holy ground: God himself was covering that whole room. His protection never left your room until he took you with him the following morning...

Your dear Char crept back into the room somewhere between 3:00 and 3:30 and was with you for the rest of your journey here on earth.

Char's new toy!

She's doing okay, Brian. She is a woman of uncommon valour and courage. She is picking up the pieces of her life without you and is pressing on. The latest step on her journey is a camper she got in order to continue enjoying one aspect of life that you two enjoyed together for as long as you could. She helps out at the TH whenever I need her and she is taking on new academic and professional challenges. You would be so proud of her.


In many ways, you each - notable, independent people in your own separate right - had provided that soft, adaptable covering, that uncommonly delicate layer of protection, for each other. 

Her earthly covering has indeed been removed with your death; but she is finding solace, more and more, under her heavenly simla. She has always placed her confidence and trust in her heavenly Father; now she is claiming, from the yawning crevasse of her sorrow and loneliness, the promise from the 91st Psalm, "He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings shall you trust ... because you have made the Lord your habitation."

As tenderly as God covered you in your hospital room, Brian, he is covering her in her life after you.  But you are never far from her thoughts and always in her heart.

And oh, how she misses you ...

Pure Gold

Gold: 

(Symbol Au) A soft, yellow, corrosion-resistant element, the most malleable and ductile metal, occurring in veins and alluvial deposits and recovered by mining or by panning or sluicing. A good thermal and electrical conductor, gold is generally alloyed to increase its strength, and it is used as an international monetary standard, in jewelry, for decoration, and as a plated coating on a wide variety of electrical and mechanical components. Atomic number 79; atomic weight 196.967; melting point 1,063.0°C; boiling point 2,966.0°C; specific gravity 19.32; valence 1, 3.

The symbol Au is from the Latin: aurum, according to some sources meaning "shining dawn," from Sabine ausum "glowing dawn."

Gold is the most malleable of all metals; a single gram can be beaten into a sheet of 1 square meter, or an ounce into 300 square feet. Gold leaf can be beaten thin enough to become transparent. The transmitted light appears greenish blue, because gold strongly reflects yellow and red.Such semi-transparent sheets also strongly reflect infrared light, making them useful as infrared (radiant heat) shields in visors of heat-resistant suits, and in sun-visors for spacesuits. 

Aristotle in his ethics used gold symbolism when referring to what is now commonly known as the golden mean. Similarly, gold is associated with perfect or divine principles, such as in the case of the golden ratio and the golden rule.

Gold is further associated with the wisdom of aging and fruition. The fiftieth wedding anniversary is golden. Our precious latter years are sometimes considered "golden years." The height of a civilization is referred to as a "golden age."

Something regarded as having great value or goodness.

(from Wikipedia and the Free Online Dictionary)

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When I think of gold 

I think of light, like the sun

warmth, like the fire

When I think of gold

I think of love, like a ring

sparkle, like champagne

I think of mystery, like the harvest moon

exotica, like the crux of a peacock's feather

When I think of gold

I think of foil, on a creamy Indian sweet

wrapping, of a 5-Star chocolate bar

I think of nine metres, shimmering shot silk

holiday chappals, Kolapurs on dusty roads

When I think of gold

I think of history past, my first friend

History present, her sons almost men

I think of two sisters singing:

The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul;

More to be desired are they than gold,

yea, than much fine gold ...

I think of patient Job, trusting,

"But He knows the way that I take -

 When He has tried me,

 I shall come forth as gold."

When I think of gold

I think of mining depths

sifting through detritus

testing mettle

furnace purifying

moulding 

shaping

tempering 

polishing

shining

Unto the perfect day

I think of

you

Daddy, Sing "Jesus Loves Me ..."

On Father's Day, I want to share with you words my father wrote last year:

The morning began with laughter and chatter and then the little child ran off with Kirtan, the butler, to take Gumba and Nana their morning tea. She led the way up the stairs to their room, Kirtan following with the tray loaded with cups and saucers, a pot of freshly brewed tea, a jug of scalding hot milk, a few small biscuits and some fresh fruit. This was their chota hawzri, little breakfast.

Near the top of the stairs she stumbled and fell backwards. Kirtan reached forward to stop her fall, and in the process the hot tea and boiling milk were spilt on her. 

A loud cry was heard.

Her mother and father ran upstairs and found her being held at arm's length by Gumba, her light night dress soaking wet. He did not know what to do. Her parents quickly removed her undergarments as they were sealing the heat to her skin.

Gumba and Nana were totally distraught that this should happen to their granddaughter and in their house. Kirtan was crushed as he felt that he was responsible.

The father carried her down to their room and laid her on the white sheets that the mother had just smoothed out for her. 

There she lay for a moment, in desperate shock and pain; then she said softly and yet so earnestly words that can never be forgotten: "Daddy, sing Jesus Loves Me." 

The father felt that his heart was being pulled out of his chest by invisible cords of longing and anguish. He then sang, the best he could, to this little girl who was in such great pain and shock:

Jesus loves me, this I know

For the Bible tells me so

Little ones to Him belong -

They are weak, but He is strong

She lay quietly on the bed.

Wonderfully, they had a large medicated bandage that was suitable for such a burn; and then off to the doctor. Many weeks transpired in the treatment of this injury, which was oft times painful, until it was finally healed. Of course, a scar remains.

Many years have transpired since then. Calendars have been hung on the wall and taken down, and a new one hangs in its place. There have been many mornings of laughter and chatter and running to show the way. There have been days with family and friends, tea, lots of tea. There have been books and music; there have been singing and travel; there have been the Bible and Church and prayer. 

There have been burdens lifted from shoulders and hearts bowed down with despair. There has been great joy in the gladness of another and there has been deep grief in the loss of those most dear to the heart. There have been lonely hours and silent nights. There has been unknown and often unexpressed shock and pain - not the pain of burning flesh but the tearing and twisting of a wounded spirit and a pummeled heart and mind. There have been times when the only adequate prayer that could be uttered from the depths of the soul was "Oh God ..."

But there is triumph! The clock does not stay forever at midnight. There is new purpose, new beginnings, fresh hope. There have been many times when this little girl, now a woman caring and strong, has needed to hear those words, Jesus loves me, this I know for the Bible tells me so ... but they were not heard; the singer was silent!

But echoing from the mountains of God and distilling like falling dew upon the waiting heart comes the sure and sweet refrain, Jesus loves me, this I know for the Bible tells me so.

The daggers of doubt may shoot their arrows; the shadow of betrayal may cast its net; the poison of falsity may fill its vial. These and the ravaging hordes that follow them can never silence or change the eternal truth, settled in the eternal decree before the world and stars were hung in space, and sealed on Calvary's hill as the precious blood of the Lamb of God was spilt, that Jesus loves me, this I know for the Bible tells me so.

For fifty years it has been true for this one, and praise is offered. The curtain lifts; there is silence; and then a new scene comes before us. Whatever it may hold, the counsel is established, ratified in Heaven and on earth, assured by divine omnipotence:

Jesus loves me, this I know

For the Bible tells me so

Little ones to Him belong -

They are weak, but He is strong

Yes, Jesus loves me

Yes, Jesus loves me

Yes, Jesus loves me

The Bible tells me so

Allan T. Ironside

May 3, 2012

This was my father's love letter to me on my fiftieth birthday. You can glimpse the heart of this man, right from when I was an infant until this very day.

He is the person who has influenced me for the most for good in my life.

No wonder Jesus Loves Me is my favourite song!

Thank you, Dad, for your great love - first for God, then for Mum, and then for your six children and now your grandchildren - which has proved to be the best teacher possible in communicating God's love for us.

I love you; Happy Father's Day.

Searching for Helen Keller

On Sunday, June 9 - for the first time in a long time - I didn't have to panic about whether the red apron was clean and ready for the day. Yesterday was the first Sunday in four and a half years that Curtis was not an employee of Nilgiris Tea House. Curt loved that red apron, and everyone else knew not to choose it if he was coming to work.

How do you say goodbye to someone who has been with you since the week after his 14th birthday? 

I have seen the path from childhood to adulthood being traversed by this exceptional young man. The first day he presented himself for the job he shook my hand. His sleeves were rolled tidily to his elbow. His hand was shaking. He was shorter than I. His round little face encased two enormous chocolate-coloured eyes. His hair drooped shyly over his head. His voice quivered.

I wanted to adopt him, not employ him ...

But Brent, the big brother who has looked out for him since the day he was born, was in the House. He quickly got Curt's hands shoved into the dishpan and quietly, in a confidential, off-the-record sort of way, got him oriented in the mysteries of the kitchen.

And Lois, wonderful Lois, tucked him under her wing and gave him the big sister treatment he was missing so desperately since his own had moved to Lethbridge.

He was so timid, those early days. I would ask him to fill me glasses of water, or create Italian sodas. He would readily tackle anything like that; but if I asked him to carry out a glass of water or to get a dessert order from a customer, he would turn a stricken face to me and in desperate tones would say, "Karyn, I don't feel confident doing that." 

All of that changed when he helped hoist Erna out of the car one Sunday when she couldn't get herself out. From then on, Curt became the top draw for our senior ladies, otherwise known as "The Ladies." He entered into their conversations and freely chatted with them about his life and theirs. (One of The Ladies remarked to me this Sunday as I was taking her order, "... and I like butter - lots of butter. Of course, Curt knew that ...")

Suddenly the little kid who was shorter than I had taken over the dining room. All of us regular spectators of the Curt show would speculate how much taller he had grown each week, and we would repeat to each other the clever comments he would deliver almost as an aside. His dry wit became sought after and drew even quiet customers into conversation with others as they laughed over something he had said or done.

"Hello, Mrs Long!" he would always greet Norma. Don would ask him whether he'd got a goal in the last hockey game. If Curt replied in the negative, Don would say, "Well, did you get a penalty? If you can't get a goal, get a penalty!" Curt would respond earnestly but with a twinkle in his eye, "I'll try!"

"Pastor Ironside!" he would say to my Dad wherever the two would see each other. He specifically requested that my Dad come and pray for him and his team when the local pastors were invited to the high school assembly's send-off before the team ventured off to Colombia. 





He also popped into the TH for something the Wednesday before they left, and we prayed for him there too ...

The Colombia Team send-off. Photo courtesy of Becky Scott.

"Rookie mistake!" was Curtis's favourite saying, and the recipient of his scoffing would pretend to cringe while trying not to smirk. Rookie mistakes could be as diverse as dropping a spoon on the floor to making the wrong dessert to spilling dishwater everywhere.

Curt really grew up in every way during his time at the TH. Last December we celebrated his 18th birthday by holding the TH Annual Christmas Event at Rosebud. We went to the matinee buffet and performance, and then we made our way to my friends BJ and Ken Jantzen's Rosebud Country Inn for hot chocolate and pie and to fete Curt.

BJ (centre) and "her" girls with Curt's cake

Curt loves red! Presents for his
college career

Curt's Dad and Mom, Oswaldo and Jackie,
with big (but suddenly shorter!) brother Brent

There have been many firsts for him in the last few years. He joined both the hockey and football teams and quickly became a leader on each. He was Vice President of the Student Council in Grade 11, President in Grade 12. He went on a mission trip to Columbia and volunteered in various capacities around school and town. Cute giggling girls would come into the TH to be served by him - one mother actually brought her daughter to apply at the TH, stating openly that she wanted her daughter to "catch Curt" - but so did his buddies, a strong core of excellent young men who clearly respected and admired him. He grew comfortable talking to anyone, working with anyone and assuming leadership of the rookies. He would move smoothly from serving customers to plunging his hands in the sink and doing a few dishes to give someone a break. He kept himself busy all the time; but he was never too busy to stop and give someone a word of encouragement, either in the dining room or the kitchen.

On his last shift

Or to me. Right from the start, Curt would exhort me to drink water. Or to eat. Or to smile. He'd ask about my day and my week. He'd tell me which customers seemed to be a little down in the dumps. He'd help me with the tables I was caring for. He'd work past the end of his shift without being asked when he saw we were busy. He'd flip me a text message every now and then on a week day.

He shared some of his own life with me: exams, sports, friends, burdens. A few of his burdens were great indeed; but he never let them affect his demeanour in the dining room. He would ask me to pray for a particular friend or other, or to pray for him, and then he would be back at his duties.

Only one thing is missing from this picture. As you know, all our tables have names. The one closest to the counter is named "CFD" ... which stands for Curt's First Date. When he was about 15 he promised that he would bring his first date into the TH. Every female who has worked and currently works in the kitchen loves this young man and wants the best woman possible to come into his life. And of course we want to be able to check her out to make sure she's good enough for him; so we decided that we needed him near the counter on his first date so that we can observe her and see if she's worthy! On June 2, the last Sunday he worked, we were teasing him about who it might be. Curt, ever self-deprecatory, made some comment about how she would need to be blind and deaf to fall for him - "I'm searching for Helen Keller!" he quipped. Then after a pause, he added, "There'll be nothing to hear; might as well seat us at the Hug ..." 

"Oh, so a lot of hand holding on the first date?" I responded. "Besides which, Helen Keller learnt how to speak - but she always had an unmistakable, piercing, oddly high-pitched voice so we would be able to hear her at least!"

Last day: with Rodrigo ...

Over the years I have joked with Curt that there is one prayer that I'm pretty sure God is not going to answer in my favour, which is that Curt would fail Grade 12 about four times so that he could stay at the TH. I dropped off a carrot cake for him yesterday, and he asked how things had gone the day before. I told him everything was awful and my heart was broken. A slow smile spread across his face and he responded, "I haven't graduated yet, you know!"

... his parents ...

... and two of the Ladies

Well, he graduates in a couple of weeks. His next step is university - I'm not holding my breath that an A student is going to fail grade 12! - and we at the TH are so proud of him.

But how we miss him already! As he was leaving, we asked him to be sure to bring his girl to the TH when he eventually finds her. He immediately asked me if I would still have Nilgiris open in 20 years. I told him whatever it takes. 

Glancing back, he said, "Then I'll keep my ears open ..." 

Ten Years Ago Today ...

... we were basking in the well wishers of friends old and new who gathered at the about-to-be-opened Nilgiris Tea House for a little tea party.

 So it struck me as particularly fitting that ten years later to the day we celebrated our friend Gaylene's milestone birthday with a little tea party.

But what a difference a decade makes! In 2003 we were exuberant, nervous, excited, hopeful, full of anticipation for what the next day would bring. 

We didn't have a clue what we were doing, what we were in for.

As we opened the doors for today's tea party we certainly had a clue. Ten years perforce provides a lot of opportunity for learning - and our learning curve was steep! - and many windows of grace when the lessons seemed almost too difficult to see through to the end.

We might not be as exuberant or as nervous as we were back then; but we're still excited and hopeful, and full of anticipation for what God might bring to us next.

Thank you all of you who were with us that day ten years ago. Thank you for your enormous patience with us as we found our feet. Many of you have become trusted friends and we are so grateful to you for your love and support.

Thank you Gaylene and Debbie for the opportunity to celebrate with you today.

And thank you, God, for the gift of our little TH.

Kerala: Waiting for Tomorrow ...

This evening we sorted backpacks into girls' and boys' piles. We filled pencil cases with all kinds of goodies; the rulers will be given separately ...

Jonathan, Jabez and BA
getting everything organized

Because tomorrow's the day! Jabez and Jonathan, GS Nair's grandchildren, worked cheerfully and tirelessly this evening to get everything ready (BA patiently kept them on track!). Tomorrow they will come with us to the Tsunami Children's Home and be our distributors. Their mother and father, Debbie and Johnson, are actively involved in this work; it will be wonderful to see their children get their feet wet!

The beautiful Debbie-Mummy
(as opposed to Debbie-Chechi,
our own Deb!) tranquilly
watches the proceedings

Dad is doing well - he always does well in Kerala! - and is planning on joining us, God willing.

All of us out here can hardly wait!