Week Three of A Series in May: Recognizing His Ways

In the month of May I've been posting every week, to document daily glimpses of God I get in my everyday life. If you've missed previous posts in the series, you can read my impressions from Week #1 here, and the ones from Week #2 here.

Day Fifteen:

Eleanor and Eva, my twin granddaughters, did so well for me when their parents were gone, including sleeping all through the night - basically from 7pm to 7am. Kayleen came back home while the girls were having their morning nap, so she and I were able to each get a twin out of a crib when the babies woke up. When the twin I was holding noticed that her sister was in the arms of MOM, I was no longer good enough. In fact, I was so not good enough that it was worth wailing about!

A little later, when DAD came home, there was more celebration from the twins, which turned to mourning when I took one of the girls to get her settled into the stroller before going on a walk. Again, a great wailing ensued. It seemed to me, as I observed the twins in those two different instances of reuniting with their parents, that the girls didn't know how much they missed both mommy and daddy until they were with them again. They were quite happy with their grandma when she was the only one there, but she soon became an inferior option when the real deal caregivers showed up. Which is exactly as it should be. No one has loved so deeply nor bonded so tightly to those girls as their parents have.

Today, when I observed the twins with their parents after being separated for one night, I caught a glimpse of God.

His love surpasses all other's.

Day Sixteen:

I drove home from Carlin & Kayleen's place today. When I approached Buffalo, New York, and thought about the US-Canada border coming up, I felt a surge of gratitude once again. These days, it's just so much simpler to cross the border than it was a few years ago. No more lining up a Starts-With-a-C test at the nearest pharmacy within a certain number of hours before arriving at the border. No more waiting for the results to come back saying you're negative. No more filling out the form on your phone's ArriveCan app. No more wondering what questions will be thrown at you at the border booth this time. No more staying six feet away from that border guard, or from anyone else, for that matter. No more quarantining for two weeks when you do finally arrive safely and healthily back home. 

I'm so happy to have all of that shmozzle behind us. When we were right in the thick of the pandemic, it was hard to believe that, like my aunt says, it would eventually be an experience that "had come to pass". You know, in the Bible where it has all those verses beginning with "And it came to pass...", well, she liked to think of it as meaning that things come and then they go away. Some unfavorable circumstance may arrive in your life, but it helps you to bear it with remembering that at some point, it too, will pass. 

Today, when I pulled up to the booth to cross back into Canada, I caught a glimpse of God. 

He brings things to pass. 

Day Seventeen: 

I went to the hospital today to visit a friend. Twice. The first time, I went without thinking of checking what time visiting hours were before I left. It was disappointing to discover I had arrived there an hour and a half too early. There was not much I could do about it, besides going back home and coming again later. 

In the elevator on my way back out I met a friendly man who appeared to be a hospital worker. My face must have shown that I was lamenting my fruitless trip and scolding myself meanwhile for not being more proactive, because the man asked me if I'm ready call it a day (it was only 2 o-clock in the afternoon!) I explained my situation and he wished me better luck next time. It was only a short exchange, and not at all profound, but somehow I felt my day got a little brighter with the encounter.

Once outside, I saw the phrase on the hospital's colorful sign - Care Never Stops - and I thought of all the care required in a place like that. My disappointment paled in light of what others around me were facing that day. On all the different floors of the hospital, and spilling out on to the sidewalks and surrounding streets are those with brokenness of body, mind, and spirit. It's good to know that the hospital workers are committed to ongoing care for these people, but how much more could our loving, faithful Father rightfully say His care never stops.

Today, when I walked out of the hospital and saw its slogan in big block letters, I caught a glimpse of God. 

His care for me never ends. 

Day Eighteen: 

I had such a delightful time gardening with Kerra today. First we went to a greenhouse to buy vegetable plants and flowers. Then we came home and directly worked up the soil in my new garden boxes in preparation for planting our purchases. While we dug, planted, and watered, we discussed the upcoming Sunday School lesson where Peter gets pretty passionate about false teachers. Kerra asked me for some planting tips and I said what I know from previous gardening experience. We laughed over an inside quote, "Shall we plant dear little lettuces?" instead of "Shall we make dear little muffins?" like Beatrix Potter's Mittens says to Moppet. We both enjoyed surveying our work with satisfaction and down-to-earth joy.

Today, when Kerra and I gardened, I caught a glimpse of God. 

He loves working with His daughters.

Day Nineteen:

We went to church early tonight. Ken had to unlock the building so that the visiting speaker could set up his Power Point gear and display table in plenty of time before the evening service began. I had a few minutes to sit in the sanctuary alone while Ken was off rounding up some equipment and before anyone else arrived. Something about the silence in that space as the evening light streamed through the stained glass windows and enriched the wood of the pews had a calming affect on my heart and invited God near. 

Tonight, when I sat on a bench in the auditorium at St. James, I caught a glimpse of God. 

His presence invokes reverence.

Day Twenty: 

Our church had its annual Victoria Day social today. This event included a baseball game, a potluck picnic, and a farewell for our Ukranian friends who are moving to Michigan by the end of the week. At the end of the ballgame and the beginning of the picnic, a rainstorm blew in. So much for my rushing to water my flowers and the new garden plants before leaving for the social, I thought. God's watering system far surpasses my use of well and watering can. During the farewell sharing time after the picnic supper, our pastor prayed that our friends would be blessed with a permanent home they can settle into. We also sang songs of heaven, the better Home that all of us can look forward to. Later on that evening, after we were home from the social, I noted another of God's superior ways. The moon He lighted in the night sky was far more enduring and impressive than my new 1-watt decorative string lights (although they are powered by His greater light to rule the day) and the fireworks that people set off to celebrate Victoria Day.

On Victoria Day, I caught a glimpse of God. 

His ways outshine man's ways every time.

Day Twenty-one:

I got to spend time with a writer friend this afternoon. Over cups of tea at Anna Mae's restaurant, we talked for two hours, catching up on the news of our families' lives and talking writer-y shop, of course. When I told my friend about my goal of finishing a huge writing project this year (by learning to say no so I can say yes), she got so excited! Her enthusiasm was catching, and I came away refreshed and renewed in my belief that I can accomplish what I have set out to do.

Today, when I sat and shared with a friend, I caught a glimpse of God.

He gives us purpose. (and friends to spur us on)

Week Two of A Series in May: Recognizing His Ways

Last week, I introduced a series of blog posts recounting some ways God is revealing Himself to me in the month of May. This is the second installment of that series.

Day Eight:

I went to Vienna (Ontario, not Austria, of course!) with Ken for the day. With the orchards in full bloom this time of year, the beauty was outstanding - to the point of overwhelm, even. Using Ken's Kia work vehicle and a four-wheeler as our means of transportation, we bumped over rutted orchard lanes and down some grassy aisles between the apple trees, viewing row upon row of gorgeous white and pink blossoms.  

I thought about all the potential in that place. If every blossom became an apple, which it has the capacity to do, what an abundance of fruit would be the result! But beyond quantity, apple growers strive for quality in their crop. While delighting in the sight of their orchards blossoming thick with promise, they don't sit around simply admiring the view and taking in the sweet scent. They get to work pruning, thinning, spraying, irrigating, and fertilizing the trees. All with a bountiful, profitable harvest in mind. Fruit farmers are bunch of hopeful people, I decided. 

Today, among apple orchards full of blooms, I caught a glimpse of God . 

He scatters abundant seeds of hope. 

Day Nine:

At the end of the day, some new friends of ours dropped in unexpectedly. It was lovely to connect with them again and when we heard of their housing crisis, I inwardly bemoaned the high cost of living in this region and wished we could help our friends find a reasonable place to rent, immediately. During our visit, I served tea, along with the options of sugar and cream for add-ins. While pouring Ken's tea, I asked if he wanted sugar in his cup, and he made some remark about the fact that I should know he always takes honey. Something in me knew I should regard his comment as teasing, which is the way he meant it, but something else in me felt it was a put down, like I wasn't measuring up to his expectations of me as a competent hostess, let alone a wife intuitive of his preferences. I allowed my sensitivity of the latter to trump my sensibility of the former (and then I heaped shame on myself besides - for feeling like I did!) 

After the guests left for home, I listened to a voice message an elderly friend had left on my phone. Her plea for me to touch base with her at a certain time the next day seemed demanding and manipulative. I know we're supposed to be the hands and feet of Jesus, I told myself, but she also needs to know I am not God! How can I discern whether I'm being selfish or simply putting up some healthy boundaries in my interactions with her? 

I slumped over my phone for a bit, but then I went and sagged onto the couch. Feeling utterly undone, I sat there while slow tears slipped down my cheeks. Talking things out with Ken afterward was the honey in my cup of outlook.  

Today, when inadequacy and overwhelm stacked up against me, I caught a glimpse of God .

He is Enough. 

 

Day Ten: 

One of Ken's orchard workers in Vienna messaged him this morning, wondering if Ken is coming by today. And if so, could he bring two maple syrups from Martin's store, clear kind. Ken asked me what I thought clear meant in this case...maybe golden, the lightest color of syrup there is? That's what immediately came to my mind. "What size?" was Ken's next question for clarification and the worker replied with one word: big. This required more messaging, to sort through the options. Finally, they got it worked out. Clear meant glass-bottled, not the most see-through amber liquid on the shelf, like Ken and I had thought, and big meant pint-sized as opposed to half pint and not nearly big as a gallon, like Ken had interpreted the word. 

Is this how God views His communication with me? I don't always understand His messages, but I wonder if He's pleased when I feel free to tell Him that I'm puzzled, and I need further clarification. I'm sure He is happy to carry the conversation further, not for what He can get out of me, but for the depth it can bring to our relationship. And maybe He thinks the most important question of the whole exchange is "Are you coming by today?"  

Today, while chuckling with Ken over a WhatsApp series of messages, I caught a glimpse of God . 

He loves to connect with His children. 

Day Eleven: (Two for today. I couldn't decide which, so I included them both. His goodness multiplies.) 

Brilliant photos of northern lights inundated my social media feeds today. It's nice we got to see the aurora borealis show in that manner, since we didn't get to see it in real life. Last evening Ken and I were playing a game at home when I got a message from Kerra (who was at an event in another location) asking if we were watching the northern lights. Immediately, we dropped our game to go out and peer into the sky. All we could see was a faint whitish streak that we took to be a northern light. Evidently, we weren't in the right area to get the full effect...perhaps we get too much light pollution living this close to Waterloo. I guess we should've driven out of the city into the country to get a better view, like the folks whose vehicles Kerra saw while she was traveling home. She noticed many cars were parked along the back roads, where the occupants had pulled off and stopped to get out and view the heavens. It made me happy to hear that people cared that much about seeing the phenomenon.

Today, when I saw pics and heard reports of the northern lights sightings, I caught a glimpse of God . 

His creation calls.

Quinn started walking! His triplet siblings set an example for him weeks (even months!) ago, but until now he had been too unwilling to let go and take more than one step on his own. I guess today he discovered he can actually take multiple steps, and keep going without falling! Joy wanted to share news of his big accomplishment with the Kenites, so she posted a video on our family WhatsApp chat. What fun to watch Quinn walking, grinning proudly as he toddled a number of steps in their kitchen.  We responded with congratulations, mostly by way of applause and heart emojis, and hearty phrases like Go Quinn! and Way to do it!

Today, when I saw a video of our grandson walking for the first time, I caught another glimpse of God.

He supports His children and encourages their efforts.

Day Twelve:

I took two boxes of homemade cookies to church this morning. After the service, I set them on some chairs outside the front entry door along with a sign that said "Help yourself to a treat on Mother's Day ~ from the oldest mom at Oasis". The result was surprise and gratitude by children and adults alike, as they exited the church building. While I was arranging the treat, a first-grade boy edged up to me, looking longingly at the cookies while wistfully voicing his assumption that the cookies were only for the mothers. His face broke into delight when I said they're for everyone. Later, his dad passed me on his way back to the church entry from the parking lot where the first-grader's family was in their vehicle ready to go home. "Your cookies must have really revived my son," he said to me. "During the service, he begged to go home because he was starving hungry, and now he doesn't want to leave church!"

That's kind of how I felt about my Mother's Day blessings. The lovely cards and affirming messages (and even a favorite song stanza on shrink art) from my children and their father. The tasty meals and the waving away of my offer to help with clean-up afterward. The huge and beautiful hanging basket of flowering plants. The picnic by the river. The walk to see the trilliums in bloom. The promises of a writing time at Rumbletum tea shop, and a new picnic table at some point this summer. Undeserving, I stammer incredulously, "Really, God? Your goodness is for me, too?"

Today, when I took cookies to church for Mother's Day, I caught a glimpse of God .

He loves to share - with everyone.

Day Thirteen:

Sometimes on Mondays, I intentionally ponder messages I've received from songs, Sunday School, or the sermon at church the day before. One thought that especially stood out to me from yesterday's sermon on The Deity of Christ was introduced as a question, "What happens when God empties Himself?" The background passage from Philippians words it this way: "...though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of servant, being born in the likeness of men." For some reason, I just found it so touching when the minister answered the question about God emptying Himself. What did He become when He emptied Himself? A God-husk? No, a man! What? Mankind, like us?

Today, when I heard a message from John 5, I caught a glimpse of God .

He willingly took on humanity.

Day Fourteen:

This morning I made the 4.5-hr trip to Guys Mills, PA. I got to come and babysit Eleanor and Eva while both Kayleen and Carlin were gone for about 24 hours. (having wrap-up-the-term gatherings with their Faith Builders mentoring groups) I kept comparing the details of my stay this time with how things were in this household a year ago...our twin granddaughters have come so far since those days when their health was more fragile, and their caregivers had the seemingly constant warming and washing of bottles, the checking of oxygen monitors beeping an alarm, the exercising of extreme vigilance in keeping the girls' environments as germ-free as possible... Now the twins are healthy, adorable 16-month-olds who are very near to walking on their own, who are "begging" for stories, chowing down foods (especially fruit - yay says the fruit farmer!) with gusto, repeating sounds, and endearing the recipients of their grins and expressions of delight. 

Today, when I watched the twins reach out to hold hands with each other while they sat in their high chairs, I caught a glimpse of God.

He grows and develops little people.

Week One of A Series in May: Recognizing His Ways

Have you ever wondered about God? Is He real? If so, what is He like? Who is He, truly? If you're like me, you have had seasons in your life wherein you ponder the questions more often or more deeply than usual. 

I am approaching the month of May in such a season. Lately, I've been asking God for answers to the question, "Who are You?" and following it with a statement of longing, "Because I want to worship You, not My Idea of You." 

I know He is okay with my asking. Otherwise He wouldn't have inspired a psalmist to write things like "I pour out my soul in me..." and "...Oh people, pour out your hearts before Him." I've decided to accept this invitation by blogging some of my soul's "outpouring" during the month of May. Following are daily impressions from the first week, accompanied by photos of things in spring that have The Creator's signature on them. 

Day One: 

When I said hello to the white-haired woman sitting in a wheelchair at Lorene Weber's funeral, she spoke my name. A lady from Lorene's community who has had connection with the Webers' church family over the years, she remembered me from the few times we've met and have had brief conversations at Glad Tidings Church over the years. I hadn't seen her for ages, which is why I was astounded at her memory of my name as well as her knowledge of my twin and triplet grandchildren. She knew that our daughter with twin girls had very similar experiences as Lorene's granddaughter Amberly had with her twin girls. She also knew that one of our granddaughters is named Piper (the girl triplet), because she recalled hearing it matches the name of Amberly's one twin. I was amazed that, out of all the people whom she's likely encountered over the past couple decades, she would mark me as someone to remember and make associations with, even though our interactions have been so few and brief.

Today, I caught a glimpse of God when Mrs. White said, "Hello, Danette". 

He knows my name.

Day Two:

This morning, I got the idea to blog about seeking God in the month of May. I started crying when typed the above question and statement, "Who are You?" and "I want to worship You, not My Idea of You.", because in that exact moment I knew God heard me.

"You've come to the right place, Daughter," He seemed to say. "It brings Me great delight to show you who I am. Start looking for the ways."

Today, I caught a glimpse of God when I started this blog post. 

He hears the heart of His children.

Day Three:

Twenty-nine years ago today, we said goodbye to Mom-Eva. Her cancer got to be too much for her earthly body, and Jesus called her Home. It was a relief to know that her suffering was over, and a joy to think of her living in the presence of her Lord, but it was also a grief to part with someone so greatly loved. I don't miss her as often or as poignantly as I used to, but the pain of loss can still sneak up on me and surprise me with its depth. 

Today, I caught a glimpse of God when Ken gave me an extra long and tight hug since I might still be missing Mom-Eva after all these years.

His comfort is enduring. 

Day Four:

These days, I'm using the Audible app on my phone to listen to a gripping and sometimes heart-wrenching story that alternates between the lives of a grandmother and her granddaughter. When it's the grandma's turn, she recalls her experiences as a Polish girl in her late teens during World War II. She's the youngest in her family, and her parents do their best to shield her from the atrocities that occur during the German occupation in their community. As they emphasize the certainty that she can trust in them to look out for her, they say things like "When you need to worry, Father and I will tell you to worry", and "When you need to be concerned, I will tell you." 

 

I wonder if my Father would like to point that out to me sometimes, too, when I'm uptight about things that are out of my control, or even when things are in my control but I don't like the outcome because of the way I've handled them. When the fear of failure or the fear of the unknown is weighing me down, I wonder if "Fear not" and "Be anxious for nothing" is His way of saying, "Trust me, I will tell you when you need to begin worrying." 

Today, I caught a glimpse of God when I listened to my audio book.

He is completely trustworthy. 

Day Five:

Two local choirs collaborated to bring a delightful program to our community this weekend: Heart Cry Ensemble (of which our daughter is a member) and Menno Singers (a group that Ken & I had the privilege to join - along with many others - in singing Messiah last December). Their music stirred me, uplifted me, grounded me, shored me up, and solidified my belief that "My God is a Rock". He is ever near, He is there when I can't see or feel or hear Him, He is still with me after I wake - either here or in heaven - and He is the Place to anchor my soul.

Today, I caught a glimpse of God through the choirs' messages in song.

He reveals Himself through music.

Day Six: 

My heart constricted when I found the tiny, naked robin nestling. It lay on the ground in my flowerbed amid a wreckage of broken birdie bodies and bits of blue eggshell, not far from its cozy home still perched on the underbeams of our deck. Mama robin feathers littered the area, testament to fierce struggle against a predator (unknown to me, but immediately within the range of my known anger!) How I wanted to save that little bird when I saw its featherless chest still heaving slightly, bravely. I went into the house and got a serving spoon from the kitchen drawer with which to scoop up the baby and gently place it back into the nest, hoping against hope that the remaining parent bird would find it and care for it in a life-restoring way. (It didn't)

Today, I caught a glimpse of God when I wanted to save a helpless creature. (I couldn't)

He wants to rescue. (He can and He does)

Day Seven: 

This afternoon, I walked with my elderly friend "Debbie" on our favorite trail. Typically, we see some wildlife as we stroll the tree-lined path between a river and narrow, man-made canal, but this time we saw an abundance of flowers, birds and woodland creatures. I guess because it's springtime, they were going about their business in greater number and intensity:

gray squirrels and their red and black cousins scampering, scavenging

cardinals trilling their pretty, pretty, pretty bird! call

snapping turtles sunning in the mud, then lunging into the water

chickadees flighty and hopeful, asking for a sunflower seed handout

violets, purple or yellow, their dainty stems waving banners of good cheer

mallard drakes paddling regally upstream

red-headed woodpecker hammering at dead wood, stocking or depleting its insect larder

trilliums dressed in classy white, living up to their status as Ontario's official floral emblem 

chipmunks skittering and scolding, or striking the dearest pose while reaching for a bramble bloom

blue jays, beautiful and bossy, jaying without ceasing (it seemed like)

frogs, bug-eyed and throat-bulged at water's edge, stolidly regarding passersby 

Today, I caught a glimpse of God along the Mill Race Trail. 

His springtime Creation teems with life.

What ways of God have you recognized lately?