Guns...blah blah blah.

It's not about the guns.

We have an innate need to lay blame. And oh so much easier to attack a cold, inanimate object, than take a deep, hard look at our own lethal choices.

We can take apart a Glock, piece by piece. How much harder to strip down a human soul, a heart, and see what's going on inside.

Wake up humans. It's not about the guns. It's about the fact that for years, we've vehemently dismissed the only True God from our culture. We're teaching our babes that they are cosmic accidents. There is no reason for their existance. They're not special or unique--evolved only from slimy, primordial goo. They're a short blip on a mortal screen and then poof, they're forgotten. There is no God--believe what you want.  Truth is relative, changing.  There's no loving Creator Who fashioned and formed and delightfully molded every cell. Who finds pleasure in guiding and listening and having a relationship built on a foundation of Truth and Love and abundant Life.

No, don't talk about Jesus in school. Don't call it Christmas. Don't show the overwhelming scientific creationary facts. And by all means don't bow our heads and pray in public...we might offend someone.  Don't be humble and recognize our selfishness and arrogance and pride as the reason we need to take a second look at that historical Book, hearing what it says.

We need salvation from ourselves. Not from guns. And we can't do it, we can't change anything. But God can. He did. We just need to surrender to Him.

A deeply engaged relationship with the magnificent One who created us.  Created me.  Wants me.

Hope.     Understanding.     Life.     Truth.     Love.      Purpose.     Joy.     Peace.

Maybe that's what the shooter was looking for. Just maybe.

Horror and My Selfishness.

It's unfathomable how many hearts are touched and grieved by such a horror.  Those factory workers...that's a purchase order no casket-makers should have to fill.

A week, a month, a year from now, how will I be changed?  Will I speak kinder words to my spouse, to our incorrigible two-year-old?  Will I send prayers and prioritize my finances to aid people who can make a difference in young lives. Lives whose innocence has been shattered by sex-trafficking, porn and poverty?  Will I smile at the teen I pass on the sidewalk, instead of pretending they don't exist?  Will I spend more time caring about others than greedily writing stuff on my Christmas-wish-list?  Will I be the adult, the parent, guarding what my children watch on TV and standing more for pro-respect in their classroom, than anti...whatever.
Do I have the courage and foresight to speak about Jesus' love and sacrifice, praying those in my sphere of influence will receive the Power offered them?  Power to face today's gruesome tragedies, and those that are sure to present themselves throughout our lifetimes.
God forgive me for my complacency and fear.  Make Yourself known through Your people.  For Your glory.  And peace for the hearts of the hopeless, helpless and scarred.

A Major Change

Just before midnight, Friday, September 28, 2012

I cannot sleep.

The poetic corners of my heart long to express this tumultuous emotion. (Okay, a little melodramatic perhaps, but cut me some slack...it's the middle of the night :)

The grieving process includes pictures, memories and soul-moulding realities that roll through my thoughts and heart.

I only worked there five years. Yet the encounter has affected nearly half the years of my life.

It's a stationery store on the corner. I see it, as though gazing down through an absent ceiling. My minds' eye sees the note pads, the paint brushes and tubes of watercolour paint. Behind me a third of the store is filled to capacity with books. A maze of shelving, rarely wandered through in my time there. Secretive, unknown titles never perused. I worked the north and east sides; paperclips, binders, dozens of rolls of tape. The office chairs are scattered, lonely, hoping for someone to test them and, nodding, choose the right one for their cubicle up the street.

I see the desks in the corner, where ohhhh so much of my heart is. The back rooms and across the alley, the warehouse—places I spent loads of time, counting, lifting, moving, checking lists and scrambling to fill out the waybill after greeting the Purolator guy.

The sum of the parts isn't so much where I spend my time remembering. Rather, it's the parts themselves, that hold meaning. Like a wheel. The store is the hub, but the spokes...each spoke so precious, in it's own way.

The aisle, where I watched my precious little boy sneak around the corner to surprise Aunties Maureen and Elsie. Our longed-for child... The coffee breaks I spent, hurrying out the back door to the doctor's office down the road, only to hear, yet again, the pregnancy test is negative. And now, in another town, I have my three babies, years after those return trips to the store to move cases of paper off the skid, heart breaking. And despite the miles and time between us, those sweet ladies, my former boss and co-worker, loved my first-born son like a grandchild. Doting. Spoiling. Stickers taken off the rack and care-packages covered in hearts, loaded with goodies. Visits here and back there, kisses on baby hands and feet, and pictures emailed across the miles.

That corner office, where those same ladies played with my boy, and later, his two brothers. Reluctantly submitting to my request for photos. Me grinning with a full-heart at the screen-saver of my babies on Elsie's computer. Those little encouragement notes, so simple, still visible...evidence that my simple gestures ministered to their souls.

The purple file folders. To Be Filed. Twelve years since I've worked there, and they're in the same wire basket tucked underneath Maureen's desk. Edges are ratty now, and soft.

The counter where I'd lay the bucket full of mini chocolate-chip banana muffins. Oh those silly muffins. More love went into those things than chocolate chips. And I'll tell ya, they were loaded with chocolate chips!

Memories of co-workers, tragically taken before they lived a full life.

A hand on a shoulder, silently wishing strength into her heart as she grieved the death of a loved-one. “For as long as I shall live, I will testify to Love. I'll be a witness in the silences, when words are not enough. With every breath I take, I will give thanks to God above. For as long as I shall live, I will testify to Love.” (Avalon)

Strange thing is, all this emotion, and the store isn't even closing. I heard tonight, Maureen is retiring. A gasp, and then, to express a chuckle through the shock, I exclaimed, “No more staff discount!?!” A few more months and she'll be done. Tonight my precious friend Elsie is sleeping in our guest room. Her own grandbabies tugging gently at her heart, so I watch her drive tomorrow to her new home, in her new city.

My ladies are leaving my stationery store. There are three people there still, whom I know from my days as an employee. But oh my ladies...

A thesaurus doesn't hold the words to express my strange, deep, rich heart's cry tonight.

I am thankful. Oh such a tiny, insignificant word to describe it. Thankful. For my time there. For the knowledge I gained. For these women who have loved me and my family beyond distance and time. For the promise of the years of friendship ahead.

Thankful even for the silly things that affect my everyday, cuz of my experience there...it's spelled stationery, folks. When it's paper, it's stationery. When you're standing still, it's stationary. :)

And the surge of delight as I watch TV's Undercover Boss. I'd have loved to have had my co-workers try my job for a week ;)

The timing of this final chapter at my stationery store is Divine-inspired. In two weeks all three of us will be in those walls together. The last inventory. The final batch of muffins. And Lord-willing, a photo.

I love you Maureen. I love you Elsie. Beyond the stationery store, and forever.  

Baked Bread

Trudy's mom adored her. She longed for a daughter all her life. Before Trudy was born, she was diagnosed as having a blood disorder, and soon Mom had all the information she needed to take good care of her precious gift. When Trudy came along, Mom did everything in her power to provide for her. A cozy home, nutritious food, family parties, birthday celebrations, countless hugs...the works.

As a young girl Trudy required a massive medical intervention. Mom was there to give her blood and an organ transplant. Trudy received Mom's sacrifice with humility and thankfulness.

Under the continued watchful eye of Mom, Trudy flourished. The operation had been a success, and she grew into a healthy, beautiful, confident young woman. To celebrate a milestone birthday, Mom took her out on a special mother-daughter date.

“Trudy”, Mom began, “I love you. You're my special treasure—a true gift to me. I'm so proud of the woman you've become. I want you to remember, dear, how I provided for you throughout the years, as best I knew how, giving you everything you needed. Not many moms get to give their kids life twice like I have...first through birth, and again by giving you the blood and transplant you needed. I would do it again for you—I wouldn't change a thing. I love you so much!

That being said, darling, I have one request of you. I'm asking you to please, as often as you bake it, bring me some of your homemade bread. Doesn't matter what variety it is, but I want it on the day you bake it, fresh. I want you to honour me by following through with this.”

Trudy was puzzled by such a strange request, but knew it would bring her mom delight, so began the weekly endeavour with joy.

Time passed, and Trudy married and had kids of her own. Her Mom was in a care-home now, and Trudy's busy lifestyle didn't afford her as many visits with Mom as she might have liked. The weekly bread delivery had slowly peetered out. A few years back Mom had reminded her about it, but Trudy shrugged it off.

“It's not a good time now Mom. We work hard to pay for our family's needs, and there's just not much for extras. I make ten loaves a week now, and giving you one of them...well...I have four kids to feed and we have our neighbours over lots. Larry's been waiting for that raise for a long time now.”

The conversation niggled at Trudy, and once in a while she'd take over a few leftover slices, and occasionally managed a whole loaf.

What Trudy didn't know, was that for years, her Mom volunteered some of her time visiting sick children. Many were homeless, or lived with distant relatives, but they all enjoyed meeting together for some quiet play and building friendships. Their health problems were numerous and varied, the only common thread being that the diseases were incommunicable. Whenever Mom visited, she brought the bread if she had it, and the children were delighted. Some were new to the group, and didn't understand why the snack was inconsistent. Those who had been there the longest sadly remembered how much fun it was to get the fresh bread every week.

Mom watched some of the children grow and reach adulthood, and grieved those who succumbed to their illnesses. One of those who consistently enjoyed the bread in the early days, grew strong, and chose the life of a wheat farmer. His flour was known locally for it's quality, and could be found in nearly every local food store. Trudy wasn't aware that the flour she used to bake her bread, was milled by the gentleman her Mom helped nurse and love back to health. Health regained partly because of Trudy's early obedience to her mom's simple request.

We all have the same disease. It's deadly. And the only cure is a blood transplant. Jesus has already donated the blood, and offers it to us. We simply need to admit we have need for the blood, and the surgery is on!

And those of us who've got new life cuz of His sacrifice, understand that we are called to love Him and love others. One of the ways we do that, is by obedience to His requests of us, because we love Him and want to honour Him.

Everything we have is His. Trees, job, family, water, each and every breath. And He knows that one of the most difficult things to see as His, is the money we have worked to earn. It's our paycheck, rather than a gift and provision for us, from His hand. He asks that, to show our understanding of His ownership, and as a sign that we are thankful for His sacrifice and His supply of all our needs, we give back a tithe. A tenth. Of all our income.

In doing these money-blogs, and indeed in the whole budgeting arena, I'm more aware than ever of the world's view on tithing.  A prominent finance/debt reduction guru has a budget plan that indicates "giving" or "donations" are a flexible expense.  We believe it's a fixed one (helps that Dan's on salary I suppose :)  Others haven't really heard about tithing, and some have but don't understand it.

Some church denominations demand their members tithe. The elders will insist on seeing a family's income statement, figure out ten percent and if they don't pay it...well...they just pay it, or else! We (being Dan and I, and the Evangelical Free Church we attend) believe it's a personal decision between a redeemed soul and his or her Redeemer. No demanding, no coercion.  We encourage it, cuz it's a Biblical truth. And in our family, we live it. Not out of prideful arrogance, but because He wants us to. And we love and trust Him.

It would be so easy, in this whole get-outta-debt scenario, to take that chunk of tithe and pay down the debt faster. We'd knock our debt out in half the time! But ya know what? God didn't get us into debt, we did. So why should He take the fall for it? Why deprive third-world children of food and education in the meantime? How many “wheat farmers” wouldn't get their chance to change the world, cuz we withheld “fresh baked bread”? Why restrict the resources needed to take the Gospel around the globe, and help our local community, just cuz we ate out a few too many times and bought clothes we really didn't need. Sure, not all our debt is consumer-debt and some happened upon us out of circumstances beyond our control, but still...

Everything belongs to Jesus. We're merely showing that we believe it to be true. And we trust Him to meet our needs in the future.

It's So Simple...In Theory.

There's only one thing we, as followers of Jesus, need to do.  Well, it kinda shows up as "do" and "be".
It was the posture of our hearts and lives when we initially said, "Yes" to Jesus.
It's the key to growth towards spiritual maturity, developing trust in God as Good, and radiating Christ to those in our spheres of influence.

Beloved, we need to be broken, and when life seems to be going well, we need to remember those times we were broken.   We need to be authentic and show that we taste the bitter realities of life.  We hurt, we hate, we grieve, we fear.  Not that we're supposed to stay there and wallow in self-pity.   Some of those things require repentance.  But there's a world out there that is watching us, waiting to see if there's a crack in our sometimes fake Sabbath smiles.

Am I willing to be vulnerable?  To stand and say, "I'm hurting"?  Willing to show my weak side, my struggles?  Why is it that when we become Christians and begin hanging with the rest of the Church,  we suddenly think life should be hunky dorey (or have the appearance of hunky dorey-ness) and we need to put a smile on?  Of course we can live with the unexplainable joy and peace that comes from having a relationship with the God of the Universe.  But when things are tough, why do we sometimes feel that we need to fake it?

It's a vicious cycle.  When we refuse to be authentic, we're subconsciously teaching those around us that they too, need to hold it together (or look like they're holding it together).  And then the church as a whole tends to look cold and unfeeling to those on the outside (and the inside too!).

The flip-side is if we're willing and eager even, to be real, it allows others to follow suit.  Plus, when we acknowledge the times we've faced pain and sin, and our only way out was to call out in our agony for God to help us, we're more apt to keep our eyes open to those around us, caught in similar troubles.   We need to catch those around us, fainting from the weighty pain of their struggles.  I've said it before, authenticity breeds authenticity.  Do hurting people feel safe with us?  Jesus doesn't want people in the church who have it all together.  He said He came for the broken, defeated, hurting.  He wants people around Him who are so low, so NOT full of pride, that He can take over their lives.  And when we've tasted Him, that's when the smile comes.  Not cuz our life is perfect, but cuz we know the Creator has our back.  He's our advocate.  He doesn't condemn.  He lifts.  He gives peace.  He gives wisdom.  In the midst of pain.

And our calling is to be more like Him.  Do we, the Church, mirror Jesus to the broken?  Do we have their backs?  Are we their advocates?  Do we, in recognizing where we've been, accept them rather than condemn?  Do we lift?  Do we offer peace?  Do we offer wisdom?  In the midst of their pain?  Do we know when to keep our mouths shut, quit offering answers, and just love them in the ways that they need to be loved?

Is the Body where people run to, to be loved and held and encouraged, when they face...

miscarriage, death, financial struggle, abortion, rape, abuse, fear, divorce, marriage struggles, questions about God and faith, health problems, loneliness, gossip, old age, insecurities, incarceration, adolescence, infertility, fear...

If not, we'd better start repenting.  And start being vulnerable ourselves.  For God's glory.

God Likes Pizza

Dan had an appointment in the city for getting his motorbike worked on, and we hadn't budgeted for it.  I'll need to use some of the debt repayment money in his next paycheck to pay that off.  And because I just finished working out our "pie chart", I'll now be saving for bigger ticket things I hadn't before, that come once a year (or so); property tax, heat (pellets), house insurance, savings, gas for motorbike, vehicle repairs, tires and bike insurances.  

My goal for today was to have our flexible expense budget set up, complete with jars to stick the cash in.  It's done, and now I have a very clear picture of where our money will be going.  

But, to begin the jars, I needed to pay off this motorbike repair with debt-reduction money.  Bummer.

So as I sat here this afternoon, and again, felt a little spirit of defeat knocking, I determined again in my heart to refuse to delve into line of credit (increasing debt), to give us some breathing space--false breathing space.

Two things happened, yesterday and today.  Neighbour 'A' dropped by to pay me for mowing her lawn a couple weeks ago.  That paid for our babysitter for a church meeting last night.  A friend phoned today, asking if we needed anything from Costco.  We've been out of Nutella for a few weeks (a staple in our home) and I have just enough cash in my wallet to pay for that.  I'm making pizza for supper with the neighbours tonight, and I wanted a special kind, but would have had to buy ingredients.  So instead I checked my fridge and pantry.  Pizza sauce, mushrooms, bacon and red pepper with mozza cheese.  All in stock.  Not too shabby a pizza!  :)

And to top it off,  the boys and I were wandering around outside, and neighbour 'B' drove up and asked me to mow their lawn too.  Cash.  Up front.

It'll buy milk and bread for the next few days.

The moral of the story?  Sometimes things don't go as planned, and things don't get fixed as soon as we'd like them to be.

But God is faithful.  He is Jehovah Jireh, our Provider.  And He's promised to meet our needs.

What a rich journey I'm on.  Sure, I'd like more money in the bank, and debt gone, but I'll tell ya, when I see the Hand of God moving in our lives--I mean really, personally moving, I wouldn't trade that for a million bucks!

Not-So-Little Blessings...and Homework.

Our vacation was fabulous.  And the biggest highlight for me, beside brushing my knuckles against the whiskers of our resident seal, was finishing in the black!  Yup, we managed to enjoy ourselves, eat out occasionally, and buy a souvenir or two without going into debt.

I'm so deeply grateful to the Lord, for providing above-and-beyond, in very creative ways and at the hands of a few wonderful people.  Yeah, it was tight.  And it continues to be a daily challenge to say no to every want that tempts us.  When we get right down to it, there aren't many needs that bombard us on a daily basis.

We're into our ninth month of a five-ish year challenge to become debt-free.  It amazes me how the Lord is using what we're going through to be able to help others too.  I mean, goodness, we all have to deal with money right?  So why not share what's working for us :)

Let me challenge you with some homework in the next few blogs, if you wanna experience what it's like to be able to breathe financially.

Homework #1:  Find out where you're at.  If I gave you five minutes, could you compile the information needed to tell me exactly how much money you have, or don't have?  Could you tell me, to the cent, how much money you owe, and how much actual cash you have to spend until your next paycheck?  Do you know what your monthly income really is?  If not, you're not alone.  Over 40% of Americans don't have any kind of budget (bankrate.com).  Take a few minutes to find out.  The end result is worth it.