Pray without ceasing

Have you ever prayed for a complete stranger?  I don't mean praying for someone who you don't know personally.  We've all prayed for the missionary family in Africa or South America whose prayer letters are dispersed through our churches.  I mean someone who you see in the grocery store or on the street, who you will most likely never see again, have no relationship with except a one-time sighting.  Or maybe you haven't seen the stranger, just know he or she exists.

When I was in high school I remember clearly something my history teacher said.  She was my favorite teacher; she made history come alive by talking about people and events in the past as if she were telling her class a story.  But the only words I remember clearly from her now 30 years later told me something about her own life that she probably didn't realize she was revealing.

She gently ridiculed Christians as she taught us about early Western civilization,  the Crusades, or the era of Renaissance and Reformation.  But her words one day are seared into my brain, probably because I had so much respect for her as a teacher.  She spoke in a mocking tone.  "There are people who believe that God has a plan for everyone and that He does plan and carry out His purposes in circumstances as mundane as whether they will be get a red light or a green one while driving, or what they should eat or drink, or whether they should wear this dress or that one.  As if God cares about each person on such a personal level or that He controls the world in such a minute and detailed way.  That kind of blind faith has been the cause of some awful events in history. "

Her comment stuck with me.  I think because I felt she was targeting me personally (she was, whether she meant to or not).  She thought that kind of faith was naive and even dangerous.  But you may be wondering what this has to do with praying for strangers?  Well, as I wrestled with her view of Christians, I realized that my relationship with God was based on just such a 'naive' faith.  In my mind, it was reassuring and a comfort, in her mind, it was simple, silly, and child-like. I prayed for her that day and have prayed for her again and again over the years when that incident is brought to my mind.

Even while I was ridiculed indirectly for my 'child-like' faith, I was exercising that same faith through prayer.  I think that incident helped to contribute to my habit of praying for people I don't know who may be facing situations that are stressful.  When I hear an emergency vehicle barreling down the highway or on the streets of my neighborhood, I pray for the person who is waiting for their response.  I don't know what is happening, but I can hear the siren, so I ask God to be there and to be glorified through it.  I don't have to know what effect my prayer has; what I do know is that I am hearing the distress call and that I can ask for help from the One who sovereignly ordains all that will come to pass.

Today on my walk I saw a woman packing up her car and noticed that her garage was full of boxes, like she was moving.  Her house is not for sale, but someone is leaving it.  I prayed for her situation, asking God to work in the lives of those who live there, that His will may be done and that they would submit to Him and come to Him if they don't know Him.  After praying, I wondered if I am presuming on God in some way.  But I know that even though I don't know the person or situation, He does.  Is it ever the wrong time to pray?  I know I can pray for the wrong things.  I know that my prayers are as imperfect as I am; but I also trust that God will use the intercession as He sees fit.  And that I am called to intercede through prayer when I know someone is in trouble. 

A friend shared with me years ago that she prays for people who the Lord brings to her mind throughout the day.  I have used that model as my own, praying for people that I think about when I think about them, and praying for people especially when I've told them that I will pray for them.  It's not just about words or good intentions.  It's an act of obedience to ask the Lord to govern and intercede in this world so that He can further His kingdom and His glory.  I know that He is using my quick prayers throughout the day to strengthen my faith, if not for any other reason. 

We are to pray without ceasing.  I see prayer as a dialogue with my creator, as an open communication with my heavenly Father.  I am trying to cultivate a prayer life that reminds me in whom I put my trust and "I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed, and I am convinced that he is able to guard until that Day what has been entrusted to me." (I Timothy 1:12)

Family relations

My dad's brother died a few weeks ago.  Uncle Earl was the oldest of three boys; Dad is the youngest.  My parents didn't learn of his death until a few days later when my sister saw something on facebook and quickly contacted my parents to see if they knew anything.

My dad was re-connected with his brothers after about 30 years of time and distance separated them as surely as differences in faith and values had.  I first met my Uncle Earl (the first time I can remember) while visiting my parents about 12 years ago.  It was surreal.  To know that there was a man who was so similiar to my dad, talked like him, looked like him, shared childhood experiences with him.  He was an engaging man and I enjoyed the few visits I had with him.  More importantly, my dad enjoyed renewing his relationship with his brother over the last few years.

A few years ago all three brothers were gathered around a dining room table reminiscing about their childhood years, telling stories about cars, jobs, people, events that took place 50 years ago.  I felt blessed to sit and listen even though I didn't know who they were talking about.  Our extended family doesn't gather together very often and it was a unique, never-to-be-repeated evening of connections.

Watching my dad interact with his brothers, hearing and seeing the similiarities and the differences between them, reminded me that blood binds us to our sisters, brothers, parents, grandparents, even if we are separated from them by time, distance, or belief.  We look like them, we sound like them, we may share personality traits (whether we want to admit it or not), we share a common beginning.  We have a whole lifetime to either grow together or grow apart.  Or both.  I vote for growing closer together, at least as it applies to my own brothers, sisters, parents.

A New Day

The first day of the year is always one of reflection and planning for me.  Today was no different.  I love new years; they're like new beginnings.  Just like each day is a new beginning in some ways.

Today we took a family picture, very casual, but nice.  I think this will be a new family tradition as long as we're together on new year's. 

I've been planning to send New Year's greetings to family and friends with a family picture.  I'm never good at getting everything done before Christmas;  I am a non-conformist in many ways (my new way of describing my rampant procrastination).

So, without lots of words that will take time to think out and write out, here it is: (drum roll, please).

Happy New Year!  From my family to yours!  I know 2014 will be a year that brings blessings and trials and lots and lots of love from our gracious God and King.

Secrets

I hate secrets. I don't like people keeping secrets from each other.  I think society would be a better place if people were honest with each other about what they were doing and why.  I especially do not like families keeping secrets from each other.  Sometimes secrets are kept inadvertently because  someone isn't personally involved in an event or situation and so the incident passes and is forgotten.  That is more a matter of privacy and convenience.  But sometimes family members purposefully keep information or incidents from other family members.  Why?  Simply to 'protect' that person in some way?  How does it protect someone to not know something that effects the way a person lives and looks at things?

I believe in open communication in a family.  I am not saying that a  person should be able to say anything to another person in the interest of full honesty.  That could be hurtful.  We should respect feelings and emotions in another person and not purposely try to hurt someone with information. 

But just because someone may be hurt or his life changed if he is let in on a secret, does not justify withholding information.   We don't honor that person or respect him if we think he can't handle a perspective or event that may be hard to swallow.   And we damage our relationship with the person who has information withheld; we can never be completely honest with him again. 

Life is tough; we can't live it as if the hard things didn't exist.  We don't have to tell someone everything we think and feel about what is happening, but we can't say nothing at all.  I think it's a form of Lying to do that.  We are not being true to people when we keep things from them.  Even to some extent, how we feel about something.  It's deception. 

I am not an 'every thing is black and white' legalistic kind of person.  I do think there are 'gray' areas of life where we have to use discernment and wisdom.  Information about certain things is one of them; but we should err on the side of honesty and uprightness, rather than secretiveness, vagueness, deceptive talk or half-truths. 

Just think if everyone around you knew something about you that you yourself did  not know.  Some surprises are like that; your husband plans a birthday party or celebration for you and wants it to be a surprise.  But what if it's knowing that a close family member is in trouble or that your son is leaving college to go into the military or your husband lost his job and hasn't told you yet.  Those are 'surprises' that we cannot plan for but we must disclose to those who need to know.   It is dishonest to not tell someone something because they will be upset, or in shock, or disturbed by the news. 

Keeping secrets that are life-changing from someone whose life will be changed by them may disturb me so much because I am good at keeping someone else's secrets.  I've kept  secrets through the years when a friend or family member has confided in me for advice or encouragement or prayer.  Those confidences weren't mine to divulge, but there are every day secrets that are better to be made known.  I've seen my share of those in my family, too, and I've cringed when asked not to 'tell' mom or dad or sister or whomever. 

Secrets get harder and harder to reveal as time goes by and as the deception grows with time so does the outcome of telling that one person who was kept in the dark.  Betrayal and distrust are fomented with a secret that is kept too long.  Is it worth the pain of the present to bring on deeper pain in the future when all is revealed?  Or is it worth the guilt that comes with keeping the secret for years, or the fear that you or someone else may slip up and reveal it accidentally?

God has kept some things secret from us, his image-bearers.  We do not know the secret will of God as it is worked out in our own life and in this world.  But we do know all that we need to know to love our Creator-Redeemer and to Serve Him in this life and the next.    Some secrets must be kept to protect the innocent or to prevent gossip or to uphold the integrity and respect for an individual  or entity.  But many secrets should never have become secrets; we are not God and we must trust Him enough to deal with the consequence of revealing what needs to be revealed to the person who needs to know and hear.  

Cozy Kitchen

We've been tearing out and re-creating elements in our kitchen for the past 10 days.  What fun! I am being just a little sarcastic, but really, it has been fun to realize ideas, plans that have only been in my head until now.

So far, we've removed (the experts call it demo) the tile countertop and backsplash. We've had new countertops installed and a new sink (with basically new plumbing). Now we're waiting to install the backsplash, touch up the nicks on the lower cabinets, and touch up the paint that was messed up by the removal of the backsplash.  I'm hoping this will all (or mostly?) be done by the end of next week.  We're having people over for Canadian Thanksgiving (Columbus Day) in a week and I'm looking forward to using the kitchen to its fullest again.  

It's all material--literally.  It's different, gorgeous, even (I'm a little biased), but still only stuff and things.  I 'love' my black-charcoal-subtly green-veined soapstone counters, my soon-to-be white beadboard  backsplash, my future kitchen island (when the budget gets built up again) and my new QUIET dishwasher (it actually cleans the dishes!).  I'm thankful that we were able to finally do our kitchen remake that we talked about since we bought the house.  It's actually been a really good time of the year to do it, schedule-wise.  But we could have waited.  I would have waited.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I am content.  I'm thankful we could afford to improve our kitchen so that we can enjoy it and use it more effectively.  But I know there is a time and place for change, including home improvement, material change.  This is our time; if it weren't, then we would be using what God has made us stewards of somewhere else.  We do use it elsewhere: kingdom work, college tuition, music lessons, family, . . .

Our project isn't finished--there will probably always be something that requires fixing up, if not in the kitchen then somewhere else or for someone else.  But I'm happy about how it is right now.  A work in progress, moving toward completion.  

Celebrating technology

This post is being written from my iPad.  I'm sure I'm behind the times, but I just discovered that I can write a post from the blogger app.  I'm not sure if this will be an incentive for me to post more frequently, but, hey, I'm writing right now and I probably wouldn't be if it weren't for this app.

New ways of doing old things are fascinating but daunting to me.  Sometimes it just seems too time consuming to learn a new way (like the saying about old dogs and new tricks infers), but if we never learn anything new, how can we stay in touch with the majority of people who know these things? 

So I'll try something new, as long as the learning curve isn't too steep and the benefits outweigh the initial frustration or confusion.  I'm not at all tech-savvy, but this one was pretty easy---after I reset my gmail password because I couldn't remember it (2-step verification) to one I use on another account so I wouldn't forget it, even though I had to make sure I was remembering that one correctly by signing in to that account on a computer that had to verify it was me because it didn't recognize the device (another 2-step verification), then completing my sign in on the blogger app.  Not too steep, just time-consuming.  

Home Is Where the Heart Is

I don't usually get sentimental over houses.  I guess it's the way I grew up.  My family lived in seven houses (in six states) from when I was born until I went away to college.  My parents never owned any of them---they were parsonages or rental homes.   Since getting married I've lived in seven  separate places (from mobile home to apartments to houses) in four states.  In my childhood years, a house was a place to live until you moved to a different place.  

But there has been a house that has been a constant in my life since my first visit to Southern Ontario, Canada to meet my future husband Bryan's  family.  Bryan didn't grow up in the house; his family didn't move to 'the farm' until he was 16.  But their home became my home ever since I first met the Klazingas, and it has a place in my memory and my heart because it is has been 'home' for 24 years--the longest relationship I've ever had with a 'house'.

When we heard this week that my in-laws sold 'the farm', the USA Klazingas were all a bit sad and nostalgic.  This home is Grandma and Pake's house to my kids.  It is 'our trip to Canada', our memories of Christmas, of swimming , of singing 'Oshimoki (Don't Go near the Eskimos) around a campfire, of meeting cousins and watching them grow up, of the rooster in front of wedding couple portraits, of fires in the fireplace, mice running overhead in the basement, conserving water so the cistern doesn't run dry when there are so many people in the house, lots and lots of plants and flowers, grilling burgers, watching fish swim in the little pond, seeing fireworks, stars, even the Northern Lights, hearing trains go by, watching snow storms and rain storms from the sunroom windows, hearing the wind blow across the fields.

I remember long drives 'home', the last 10 or 15 minutes of driving down long country roads, anticipating the outside lamps on, and Mom and Dad waiting for us to arrive.  That feeling of going home is strong; it becomes associated with the house as well as the family you visit.  We were welcomed in every time we visited and there was always room for everyone.  There were old toys to play with, old books to read, lots of food, big breakfasts, celebrations, visits of cousins and aunts and uncles, coming home for family reunions, funerals and illnesses.  We watched the house undergo lots of changes over the years--remodeled kitchen, bathrooms, new  deck, air conditioning, water features.  But it was always a place of peace and quiet, filled with love and family.   

I know that house isn't  my in-laws' first house, nor will it be their last, but it does have a special place in mine and my family's heart.   We will miss seeing 'the farm' when we visit Grandma and Pake again.  It's just a house, but it was also home.  For as long as I can remember, when moving away from a place, I walk through the rooms of the house I am leaving, as a way to say goodbye and remember the time spent in the house.  I don't know if I'll get a chance to do that before my in-laws move, but I know the memories of 'growing up' there will not be forgotten.