Bird of Parody

I haven’t had my First Robin Sighting yet in 2019. Any day now, I hope to have that thrilling little heart jump at spotting one of those familiar feathered harbingers of Spring.

While I have been thinking robins, I recalled a poem I used to read to my children from a book of nursery rhymes. On a page near the back of the tattered yellow book, I’d read in a shivery, blustery tone:

The north wind doth blow,

And we shall have snow,

And what will the robin do then?

Poor thing!

He’ll sit in a barn,

To keep himself warm,

And hide his head under his wing,

Poor thing!

The little people I was reading to would look at the poor robin huddling on the barn beam while the wind whipped the snow past the window in the picture, and instinctively snuggle closer to me.

That’s not the robin I’m waiting for.

With apologies to Mother Goose, here’s my poem:

The south wind doth bring

Happy promise of Spring,

And what will sweet robin do then?

Blest thing!

She’ll treble at dawn,

Love-dance on the lawn,

And hide her eggs under her wing,

Blest thing!

This Post’s Quotables:

It seems a shame to be posting such inconsequential things as bird-sightings when we’ve just spent a weekend seeing Jesus. We went to Pennsylvania and took in the REACH conference (put on by Faith Builders) on Thursday and Friday, and then on Saturday we saw the Sight & Sound show about the life of Christ, which is simply called "Jesus". I hope to do a blog post about my impressions of these events in the future, but for now I will share a few quotes I heard in some REACH sessions:

“We have to realize how devastating focusing on ourselves really is.” – David Yoder

“Being disciplined is foundational for righteous living like Jesus.” – Irene Yoder

“Who is the light of the world? (We are) What do you do with light? (Take it to the darkness)” – Rick Rhodes

“What we pray for, we get, and what we pray for, gets us.” – Allen Roth

This Post’s Childhood Memory:

This time of year, when I see the little run-off streams that form beside melting snowbanks, I remember the delight of playing in such “rivers” of Spring when I was a young girl. My sibs and I would get dropped off at the end of our long lane after school and we’d meander in to the house, getting waylaid by the beckoning ribbons of water rushing along the edges of the gravel. Other times it was such fun to extend the playing time into construction and maintenance of the little streams. We’d clear away winter debris – dead leaves and stalks of dried weeds – from the collection spots clogging the waterways and dig little trenches with a short piece of a stout twig as our backhoe for diverting and funneling in the river system. Most fun of all was to sail little boats on the Snowmelt River. A boat could be a piece of paper littered along the lane, an old pine cone frayed from having been driven over too many times, a large piece of stray straw from the nearby grain field or a wood chip that had fallen off the pickup when we hauled in slab wood to the basement. Sometimes we’d get two or more boats of similar size and weight and seaworthiness and race them on the stream. At such events, my youngest brother’s excitement had a unique feature. He’d stand with his arms stretched out rather stiffly at his sides and flutter his fingers as he stood gleefully mesmerized. I don't think I ever did this particular routine outwardly, but I’m sure my inner excitement mirrored his.

PS. I wrote most of this post on our way home from PA. Half an hour after we returned home, I looked out on the lawn and saw not one, but THREE robins. First Robin Sighting 2019 - yay!

What Spring Sightings give you a little heart-jump of thrill?

A New Thing

The Sunday of Firsts is now history. We said our farewells to Grace Family living so that we could begin our hellos to Oasis Family life, and now we've had church services at Oasis for two Sundays. It has been the beginning of a new - and lovely - thing.
Here are some of my impressions so far:

1. Novelty.
I experienced a mixture of emotions while we drove to Oasis that first Sunday morning, but the most prominent one was excitement. What is it about a new thing that beckons? Likely not the unknowns, the changes, and the twinges of fear at the potential of failure; it must be the freshness, the hope, the possibilities for success in the venture.

Most everyone came to church early. We had been advised to allow time for exploring the new-to-us building, so that was part of it. And we are starting our worship service at 10:00am instead of 9:45am like we did at Grace, so people may have been at church earlier than normal on account of being that deep in their habit groove. But there we were, sitting in the spacious sanctuary on the lovely padded chairs a good ten minutes before the opening, observant and eager - I think, because of the newness appeal.

2. Time for silent reflection.
When it comes to order of church service on a Sunday morning, we at Oasis have deviated somewhat from the familiar pattern of three songs, a Sunday School devotional, Sunday School itself, more songs and the offering, the message devotional, the message proper, a benediction and closing songs that I have been used to all my life. The beginning segment of the service is a worship time which includes songs, scripture and inspirational thoughts, all directed by the same leader. I find this to be very meaningful in focusing on God, and responding to Him in worship. Following this worship time is a period of silence, during which the offering is received. (Actually, this is an extension of the worship time, since giving can be a response of worship, as well.) The silence is welcome as a space in which to ponder the truths we have just heard and sung.

The first morning the theme of this worship time was Our Need of God - so fitting for us in our new church beginning.The very first hymn we sang together at Oasis Mennonite Church was "Hail, Holy Light", a song about we saints on earth joining the heavenly hosts in adoring our Creator and Savior. It's one of my favorite songs, and I loved that we ended that first Sunday with another favorite, by the same tune. The last hymn we sang that evening in the song service was "The Day Thou Gavest, Lord, Is Ended". An intriguing thought therein is that the Lord's Church never sleeps, because as dawn leads the day around the world, there are constantly His people waking to pray and praise.

3. Opportunity for speaking.
In the new order of service, there is also time set aside specifically for any of us in the congregation to speak, as we care to. There's the personal sharing and prayer time following Sunday School, and then the sermon reflection time following the message. So far, these have been times of both men and ladies, adults and teens alike, sharing testimonies, prayer requests or something we learned throughout the week. I can tell that this will be one of my favorite times of an Oasis Sunday morning.

4. Children. 
Oasis is a young church. The average age of its attendees is 23. Ken is the oldest man; I am the fourth oldest woman in our group. (What a strange feeling!) This means that there are a lot of children among us; hence, a lot of energy and noise. I sense that these children are wanted and needed at Oasis, though. I hope they will grow up believing that they not only have a place in church, but that they are continually an integral part of the church. There have been thoughtful dialogues about creating space and safety for them while providing guidelines for respect of people and property (especially necessary since our two locations for having church gatherings are rented buildings).

We've started some traditions involving the children: their very own church bulletins, designed just for them, and a story time for the little people at the front of the sanctuary right after church dismissal while the big people are visiting.

                                                                        (Photo Credit: Jasmine Martin)

5. Flexibility. 
Starting something new goes so much better if the starters are willing to adapt quickly. I have seen this played out in numerous ways as Oasis gets on its feet, from a youth fellow calmly cleaning up water suddenly spilled by the special needs child he was entertaining, to a member graciously conceding an opinion in a group discussion, to people being willing to pack up their potluck gear and move from the morning church building to the afternoon/evening church building without complaining.

6. Membership. 
How do you "join church" when you're a part of one congregation that multiplies into two and you decide to go with the new branch? Are you automatically a member of the new one? Should there be some sort of documentation of who are the founding members? Our leaders decided on a Membership Service, and they planned a very meaningful program, implementing ideas that various people offered.

After we sang some opening songs about the church and its brotherhood (I sometimes add "sisterhood" in my head), our pastor gave a short meditation, opening with an African proverb: "If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together" as he compared the church to riding on a bus vs riding on a motorcycle. He also likened the church to a body, an orchestra, and a family. When he listed a number of things we do together as a family and included "We fight with each other", Ken and I looked at each other and grinned, interpreting "fight along with each other".

Then we all stood and read a Statement of Commitment together audibly. As I read the part about me being "a rebel, a sinner, lost and blind, but God who is rich in mercy and extravagant love sent Jesus to rescue all those who turn and reach out to Him in faith and obedience" I got all choked up and I couldn't read for a bit at the immense wonder of it all.

My voice found strength again when we got to the part about Jesus building His church and me desiring to be a part of His local body at Oasis Mennonite Church. I could join in with solid commitment to love and cherish each member and to serve the church as I'm able.

Then, as a hands-on (feet-on?) way to symbolize the one-anothering we were committing to, we observed the ordinance of feet-washing. I can feel rather awkward and vulnerable (not to mention ticklish-footed) entering into this ordinance, and that day was not really an exception in that regard, but it was so meaningful, too. I have been thinking a lot lately about wanting to be able to see Jesus - to really know who He is - and it seemed that I got a glimpse of Him that day. One of His daughters knelt in front of me and took my plain, ordinary feet in her hands and splashed warm water over them and carefully dried them with a towel. Then she allowed me to do the same to her, and then we embraced each other and she whispered that she was so happy that we belong in the same church family and I could tell she really meant it. Yes, in my brothers and sisters around me that day, I saw His Body. And it was precious.

The last thing in the membership service was for the founding members of Oasis to sign a poster to document this occasion. While we filed up to the front to write our names on the beautiful poster designed by one of the youth girls, we listened to a recording of a song done by Oasis Chorale. "I Am the Lord", written by Lyle Stutzman, is taken from Isaiah 43 and I can't think of a more fitting song for us beginning Oasis Mennonite Church. "I am the Lord, your Holy One...your King...Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert." (verses 15 and 19) Sounds like the beginning of an Oasis to me!

What new thing has God begun in your life lately?

This Post's Quotable:

When the topic at the dinner table turned to childhood memories of chewing gum, our guest Steve tried to describe how drastic the gum dearth was for his wife and her siblings when she was growing up. "They were so gum-depraved," he declared, "that they'd sometimes wad up a little piece of paper into a ball, and chew that."

This Post's Childhood Memory:

I used to be puzzled and intrigued by my mom's habit of keeping her eyes open when she was praying. At least, to me it seemed a habit. (Every time I checked, it appeared to be so.) When I'd ask her about it, she'd just turn it around and ask how I would know. So then I would either have to admit that I'd had my eyes open during prayer too, or just stop talking about it.
In more recent years, I've startled myself by realizing that I, too, could easily be caught with my eyes open during prayer. I believe it comes from seasons of being on high alert, checking out the source of smell emitting from the infant on my lap, making sure my preschoolers aren't pulling faces at each other, and did I remember to put the gravy on the table? or on low alert, eyes half open in meditation or quite possibly the weariness zone between sleep and wakefulness, and oh, there's a drip of something down the front of my dress - must be tomato sauce from the lasagna...
Yeah, my mother could've easily answered my eyes-open-during-prayer question with, "Oh, it's something you'll understand when you're a mom."

To a Tourist

You've been thinking of visiting our continent? You're coming to Canada, our northern home and native land? The province of Ontario, you say? Waterloo County? Thirteenfiftyapplegroveroad, along the back lane? In the WINTER??!!

Oh, please do.

All the stuff they say about winter's intensity, unpredictability, and longevity is true. All the snowing, blowing, freezing, thawing, drifting, skidding, ditching, crunching, slushing and mudding that you've heard about really does happen here.

People actually do put up with negatives in winter life that range from trifling inconveniences to considerable dangers. They pull on extra sweaters or huddle under blankets in the living room of a furnaced house, scrape ice off their car's windshield, peer out from under frosty eyebrows to watch their breath puff into mini clouds and disappear, cancel church services, drive stretches of road blind in complete whiteouts, repair burst water pipes, and dig out their porches and vehicles after yet another blizzard.

Don't you just want to pack your bags and head for here now?

What you may not have heard, though, is how versatile our winter is; how wondrous and beauteous it makes things around here. The Maker of the ice and snow labels His creation "treasures", with good reason.

Let me illustrate:

In the slate greys and blues of a winter afternoon's landscape, you can stand and make tall, skinny shadows a long way across the snow-dappled lawn.

After a thaw-and-freeze, you can go for a walk to the bush and break through the top crust of the snow with every step. It's such a crunchy, down-to-earth experience.

After an ice storm, a stroll through the orchard is a dazzling exploration. 

The sun gleaming on the icy expanse seems to turn the back yard into a frozen pond. and makes you want to don skates and go for a spin. 

Meanwhile, some fascinating icicle craft is taking shape.

You can (not me, but if you're a skillful sculptor) carve something marvelous into the snow or ice and have other people come look at it to ooh and aah over the creation.

Or to come look at it to laugh aloud, and then to smile again when they think back on it in days to come.

                      

You can stay inside the house on Snow Days - or Snow Events, as they are sometimes called, making them sound So Important - and not go out at all while it is blizzarding so hard and fast you can't even see the orchard trees, let alone the bush trees beyond them, when you look out the windows to the south. The only time you open the front door that day is when you want to see how much and how amazing is the blizzartistry on the porch.

You can watch people who are fishing in the river ice with their buddies and making beautiful patterns in the snow as they walk from one hole to another.

For these experiences, you don't need to make reservations online ahead of time, you don't need to wait hours in line for your turn, and you don't have to jostle a crowd to see and participate once you do reach the spot of interest. Oh, and did I mention they're free?

For these experiences, there aren't any restrictions, precautions or guidelines to heap on you, either. The only advice you might consider is "Take care that you don't get bowled over by all the beauty out there!"

                                                                                       (Photo Credit: Kerra Martin)
On another note:
Winter also makes a pretty great background for engagement photos, as this couple found out this past weekend. (Yes, our daughter Kayleen got engaged to Carlin Atkinson on March 1, so there's a lot of excitement and wedding talk going on around here. A November wedding is in the works.)

This Post's Quotable:

On a very-Canadian weekend in Ottawa recently, our family skated on the Rideau Canal and ate beavertails, fried dough pastries that are shaped to resemble a beaver's tail, because those two activities are just what you do when you're in Ottawa in the winter. One time that weekend our son overheard somebody "verbalizing" the beavertail: "Are we beavertailing now or later?"

This Post's Childhood Memory:

I used to love building snow forts with my siblings, cousins, or schoolmates. I remember sawing blocks or slabs of snow from the packed top layer of drifts in our field, and fashioning fort walls by stacking these blocks alternately, brick-style. Another method of building forts was to select snow chunks from the snow piles pushed up by the snow plow in our lane at home or in the driveway at school. What an accomplishment to raise a whole little "house" by stacking snow chunks in walls sometimes higher than our heads! To be in that fort made by our own mittened hands gave such a cozy, contented feeling in spite of the cold.

Grace Be Multiplied

It was a Sunday of lasts. For the last time, we carefully backed our van into its space in the row of vehicles parked against the farmer's field, got out and crunched over the icy parking lot, walked in under the car port and went through the front door into the familiar brick building we call "our church".

For the last time, we entered the spacious foyer, plunked our Bibles and purses on the brown folding table by the servery while we hung up our parkas at the coat rack, and said good morning to the friends we encountered as we made our way into the sanctuary.

We sat on the dark, curving, carved-on-the-end benches in the high-ceilinged room surrounded by tall windows of multi-colored stained glass panes and waited for the Sunday morning worship service to begin, for the last time.

After the three opening songs and the devotional by the Sunday School superintendent, we filed out of the main sanctuary past the church mailboxes (stuffed with CLP Sunday School papers and ministry newsletters) on our left and the beyond-the-arch rows of peopled chairs on our right. Or the other way around, depending on which aisle we used to exit the auditorium. We went down the steps to rooms in the basement and gathered on circles of black plastic chairs to have Sunday School together for the last time.

Following Sunday School, we regathered for the last time in the sanctuary for the closing remarks of the superintendent and the opening remarks of the devotional minister. We lifted the purple hymnals from the songbook racks and sang some more songs led by the song leader standing in his place between the wooden lectern and the table that holds the big Bible open to Psalm 23. We put our offering envelopes in the flat wicker baskets that the ushers passed among the pews, row by row.

Then we listened to the minister preach, followed the outline of his message on the overhead screen and took down notes on the back of the bulletin, the side of the paper unprinted with announcements and birthdays or anniversaries of church people. After the benediction, some closing remarks, and a closing song, we stood and turned around to talk with the people in the row behind us, for the last time.

Out in the lobby, we got through our somewhat tearful goodbyes and walked out the front door past the children peering out with their faces pressed against the window or chasing each other outside under the carport, got in the van, and drove home from church for the last time.

For the last time, that is, as Grace-ites. Tomorrow, on the first Sunday in March, we will be Oasis-ans. Or whatever you call people who belong to a church called Oasis. This Sunday will be a Sunday of firsts, please the Lord. It will be the first time to have a service in a different building with the new group of Grace people who have chosen to "start a second congregation" in downtown Kitchener.

One can't be a part of Grace Church for 16 years (exactly 16 - our family started going there on the first Sunday in March of 2003), and not stack up the positive experiences. One can't attend a last service in said church without having the stack of memories come tumbling forefront, bringing a heap of gratitude along with it. One can't look around at all the Grace-full brothers and sisters, and not shed tears at the pain of parting, of leaving behind this particular blend of people in this particular place.

At least, I couldn't.

Unobtrusively, I took a few pictures as I sat there. For memories' sake. A host of pictures flooded my mind besides. The snapshot of our first Sunday at Grace - arriving late because we thought the service started at 10:00 instead of 9:45, walking our shy and teary little girls to Sunday School and sitting with them in class for a bit, feeling rather lost myself among the small crowd (50 people, maybe?) after church but being so impressed with the welcoming friendliness of the Grace-ites.

I also saw a second snapshot - of a year later, when Ken and I officially became members of the Grace Family. I remember standing in front of the church that morning to give my personal testimony, struggling to find the right words to adequately convey my gratitude to God and to these people for the place of safety and healing they had become for me. I shared Psalm 107:29 & 30 to help clarify: "He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. ...so He bringeth them into their desired haven."

Other images clicked through my mind. They were mostly scenes of gathering - potlucks fantastic with a vast array of colors and tastes and traditions (anything from dorta pie to pad thai to egg cheese with maple syrup), lively Bible Study discussions in a circle of Wed. night go to meetin' people around the edges of the church foyer, "small groups" campfire times in someone's back yard, ladies clustered around someone in need and covering them with hand and heart in prayer, cheering teammates on in a relay at church camping, singing to (or with) elderly residents at places like Nithview or Forest Heights, oohing and aahing over the newest black-haired baby after church, playing Sardines Hide-n-Seek at ladies retreats, and showing up at church cleaning armed with rakes or buckets and rags.

We've done so much together in the years of Grace Family living. But now, it has come to this. We are dividing into two congregations. Last Sunday we had the last service together; tomorrow we plan to have the first Sunday with the two congregations having their own separate services. Someone said we should not think of it as a dividing, but as a multiplying.

I like that thought. Over the years that we attended this church, Grace kept multiplying. People from various types of churches, for various reasons, began trickling into the congregation. Eventually the trickle became a stream and then, in more recent years, a Mississippi. Hence the need for a second congregation to begin.

When it comes to the people of Grace, I choose to think of multiplication rather than division. Over the years, I've worshiped with these dear people. I've visited with them and shared meals with them in their homes, or in ours. I've laughed with these people, cried with these people, taken advice from them, learned from their example, pondered with them, gotten frustrated with them, disagreed with them, been amazed at them, and probably have taken them for granted far too often. I hope I have offered them grace; they have certainly given it to me. I pray for Grace to be with me always.

No matter where I attend church, may Grace be multiplied.

This Post's Quotable:

A staff member from a ministry team in northern Ontario, in describing some areas of financial need to supporters at a meeting, explained that one of their main furnaces to supply heat for the buildings on the grounds was in need of major repairs. "We have this funny little habit of naming the vehicles and large appliances around there," said the staff member. "So we had named this furnace 'Greta'. Now we call it 'Regret-a'."

This Post's Childhood Memory:

Speaking of church memories in this post reminded me of some impressions I have of Northwoods Mennonite Church, the church of my childhood. One thing I remember doing when I got bored during long sermons was to gaze at the strange pattern in the front panels of the wide wooden pulpit that the long-winded preacher stood behind. The darker wood shapes showed up in the lighter wood as the carcass of a butchered animal - perhaps a sheep. Ghastly, I know, but that's what was there in the pulpit. And once I saw it there, it seemed I couldn't see something else. Or I might place a paper over a hymnal and rub pencil lead over the place where the musical emblem was stamped into the front cover of the songbook. That made a more pleasing picture. Or I might lean my head up against Mom's arm and try to take a nap. I say "try to", because after I was a certain age she'd more than likely shrug me off because I was too old to be sleeping in church!