tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90442182024-03-07T00:49:52.872-05:00DawsonwoodThis is a place which is bigger on the inside than on the outside. Like books and paintings. Like all imagination. Like loving partners after the passage of years. Like families and lifelong friends. This is a place of Spirit. It knows no boundaries.Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.comBlogger116125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-83276408862567604092010-01-22T10:31:00.002-05:002010-01-28T01:41:26.947-05:00Tout Bagay!Dear Friends,<br /><br />The novel which I am serializing on Hubpages has found its way mysteriously to my old blog at Dawsonwood, which is something that I would have done intentionally if had I had been moe computer savy.<br /><br />The posts on this site are so much easier to follow...however...I carry on with Hubpages because I have notified a lot of people to look for the installments there.<br /><br />Please note dear American friends...the character Jonathan George, M.D. PhD is more sympathetic than he first appears in the opening chapters of this novel. Indeed, there are some fascinating secrets about him which are revealed as characters become less stereotypical and more human. Indeed, that is the whole point of the book.<br /><br />We have narrow ideas of one another and make snap judgments...or judgments based on far too little information. The characters in this book are moving towards acceptance of self and acceptance of other and the deep understanding that we are all one.<br /><br />I have been aware that many novels today are colourless. Race is often just written out and physical descriptions are scanty. And, in a novel where race is not a major theme, this is appropriate. However, in this novel race is important because it is one of the keys to the understanding of the personalities and the essential humaness of all the characters. And then there is the wonderful notion of 'creole-ness' as well.<br /><br />I am interested in editorial feedback from any of my readers since this version of the novel (version six counting the first five versions which were written at the novel marathon weekend) will not be the last. I would like to find a publisher for this book and to do a much, much better job of this than I did on the Dawsonwood Diaries. Please send me editorial input. Don't bother correcting my spelling...someone will do that...and its Canadian english spelling in the main anyway because Marcel Robinson is a Canadian of Haitian descent.<br /><br />Thank you,<br />Blessings,<br />ConnieConstancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-89398813079735007912007-10-13T22:58:00.000-04:002007-10-13T23:01:18.308-04:00You've got to read this:<br /><br />I BELONG TO GOD<br />by Robert Knighton<br /><br />In the first weeks of my course on Spiritual Formation, the class was encouraged to take this phrase and meditate upon it. So simple. I belong to God. Actually, I preferred the longer version as found at the beginning of the Heidelberg Catechism: My only comfort is this: that I am not my own –but body and soul, in life or in death, I belong to my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ. Connie and I meditated upon the word ‘belong’ – and ultimately connected it to the verb ‘to long (for)’. Our deepest longing, that which drives us outward for meaning and reassurance, is to belong. We are hardwired for this – that’s why the cartoon ‘the Ugly Duckling’ stirs so many tears.<br /><br />The timing was important. Over the summer, I had not been able to go to music camp as planned, to finish well my connection with official SA. Belonging became an issue again. I had not ‘belonged’ within the SA for fifteen years, then suddenly I ‘belonged’ again – what a grace and joy. God redeeming the years the locusts ate. Now I didn’t belong again. Defined out of existence. My ministry taken over by the Area Commanders.<br /><br />I belong to God. Isn’t it interesting how we can allow ourselves to get distracted from this? At root, I know that anything I am or do is energized by belonging to Jesus, belonging to God. The LORD is God! He created us, and we belong to him; we are his people, the sheep in his pasture. (Psalm 100) And that nothing, ever, nowhere can pluck me out of his hand, remove me from his care. But in practicality, we interpret this through relationships with people, and organizations, and through circumstances and fruitfulness. Good things all – but potentially distracting.<br /><br />Now these words penetrate my heart: I belong to my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ. In the Old Testament, salvation is portrayed as having our feet set on a broad plain. Free from smallness and restriction, alive to potential and possibility. The green pastures of Psalm 23. God leading us out of pasture land too long grazed, no longer capable of supporting life abundant, and setting us in limitless time and space. Then exhorting us to roam, to discover, to graze afresh, to rest – always secure in His care. How many of us feel that way? Mary, when confronted by tidings of the impossible answered "I belong to the Lord, body and soul, let it happen as you say”. (Luke 1:38)<br /><br />Over the six weeks of living with these words of God, I have found so many ways of losing touch with this reassurance. Of feeling like an orphan. Or, like Elijah on the mountains Carmel and Horeb, alone and buffeted. Paul knew this feeling so well and spoke the words which break through the storm:. Whether we live or die, it must be for the Lord. Alive or dead, we still belong to the Lord. (Romans 14:7-8) Frankly, I prefer the alive. Yet sometimes the Deceiver suggests ways in which I am dead. “Whatever”, I say – “I belong to God.”<br /><br />Now that God has called my attention to these words, this assurance, my meditation has been upon them as well. What are the fruits of belonging? What are the implications? The service possibilities? I now understand ‘the renewing of my mind’ as being given eyes of belonging rather than any consciousness of alienation. A couple of years ago, I took as ‘my verses’ Matthew 11:28-30 from The Message: Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. … Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." I now understand them as ‘belonging verses’ -that just like God used to walk in the garden with Adam and Eve, because they belonged to Him, so He wants to walk with me, because I belong to Him. <br /><br />Paul once exhorted the Corinthians, everything is yours, including the world, life, death, the present, and the future. Everything belongs to you, and you belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God. (1. Cor. 3:22-3) When I am discouraged through a sense of any lack, that is not the Spirit alive in me, but the Accuser. ‘My father is rich in houses and lands.’ And I am the child of the King. How weak are the measures which we use to evaluate this richness– material goods, release from sickness or pain, important ministry! Everything belongs to us because we belong to God! No room whatsoever for the benighted philosophy of scarcity – our lives can speak in all ways the wonderful assurance of abundance. We are not people terrorized by the ‘bottom line’ – but as those who belong to God we are resourced by the fullness of God’s riches.<br /><br />(A new covenantal catechism) Question 1. Who are you?<br />I am a child of God.<br /><br />Prayer: Lord you are my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? You are the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud, be gracious to me and answer me! O God of my salvation! (Psalm 27:1, 7, 9f)<br /><br />Question 2. What does it mean to be a child of God?<br />That I belong to God, who loves me.<br /><br />Prayer: You O Lord have done great things for us, and we rejoice. Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses in the Negeb. May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves. (Psalm 126:3-6)<br /><br />Jesus my Lord will love me forever,<br />From Him no pow'r of evil can sever;<br />He gave His life to ransom my soul -Now I belong to Him!<br /><br />Chorus: Now I belong to Jesus, Jesus belongs to me -<br /> Not for the years of time alone but for eternity.Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-81333097157038777522007-09-18T06:52:00.000-04:002007-09-18T07:47:06.772-04:00Dawsonwood Is Alive and WellDear Blogging Friends,<br /><br />Dawsonwood Cottage is alive and well. I'd better post this on Facebook if I can figure out how to do it, because some of you seem to have become Facebook addicts and I have not posted here since last spring. This is about what God is doing in our lives.<br /><br />We welcomed an international student from Vietnam, Vu Pham, on September 7. Fifteen years old, he is studying in Bracebridge this year in Grade 10, but doing Grade 11 math and chemistry. He joined the soccor team last night and is off to his first tournament today!!! It is fun having a young person about the house. So much fun indeed, that I did not hesitate in the slightest to say yes to offering shorter term accomodation to another student. "D" is finishing Grade 12 and, small world that it is, knows Vu in another context.<br /><br />So the Knightons are experiencing the excitement of teenaged boys after raising our two girls. Rob's knees are aching from several games of tennis with Vu over the weekend and I am actually cooking for the first time in what seems like months. Well, it is months because my wounded hand has made all manual labour difficult. It is also a challenge to make meals which have even a semblance of Asian acceptability. Vu has given me the skinny on stir fried vegetables and there will never be soggy stir fry in this house again! <br /><br />Yes, the hand. Still swelling irratically. Still sore. Still scarred looking. An anomaly they say, with respect to the scarring. Personally, I don't care about the scar. I have lived long enough to deserve every war wound on my body. However, this scar seems to have a life of its own, becoming raised and prominent and dry after certain activities and inflamed after that. Sometimes massage helps, sometimes it seems to make things worse. I would welcome tips from anyone who has experience of scar tissue.<br /><br />The next few weeks are exceedingly busy. Rob is going back to school. No not his PhD.. As a matter of fact, he is selling his complete library of theology. He's on a different track at this stage of his life. He is studying spiritual direction at Tyndale University, figures he has done this work for the last thirty years in various ways, but is choosing to do this intentionally for whatever years God gives him. His contract with The Salvation Army ended when that organization reinvented its structure for supplying pastoral care to its ministers. Change calls for a creative response. <br /><br />We are into autumn birthday season. Rachael will turn 6. Sarah will turn 30 and AAAAAAAGH!, I will turn a factor of these numers. No not 180! Rob and I have our 40th wedding anniversary on the 14 October. We are having a family celebration on the Sunday of Canadian Thanksgiving and taking a cruise in November. Barb and Dylan and children will move into Dawsonwood while we are away to look after 'the boys.' Sarah and Jeff are celebrating their anniversary on October 16. Resigned that I would never get my 'wear' out of it, I finally sent the expensive dress I bought for that day to charity. Sarah said, "Mom, get over it. It's been eight years!" Unbelievable.<br /><br />And all you young mothers out there...don't be smug. Time flies whether you are having fun or not. So have fun. It will be your turn soon. You'll be filling your empty nests with other mother's sons. People will be astonished when they see your wedding photos. They will say politely, "Oh yes, I can see that is you. The smile is the same." Your daughters will enthuse, "Mom, you were beautiful." You will look into the mirror and scarecely recognize your own faces.<br /><br />Bless you all.Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-23786136679395125262007-06-01T12:34:00.000-04:002007-06-01T12:36:14.756-04:00Guest Blog From RobertConnie’s challenge has stayed with me throughout this month. Since it is true that, until it can be said of me “In him is life” and of our churches “in them is life”, we are falling far short of the glory of God which He intends for us, we really must have the fullest possible picture, expectation and reception of life.. Our weakness in witness to the world, in fellowship with each other, and in communion with God spring from our want of life. So what is life?<br /> I have become convinced in my heart that Jesus’ own preaching of the Kingdom gives us the best picture of the life he himself experienced and which he was bringing to the earth. For example, according to Matthew and Luke, when John’s disciples came to inquire into the nature of Jesus’ messiahship, the Master replied "Go back and tell John what's going on: The blind see, The lame walk, Lepers are cleansed, The deaf hear, The dead are raised, The wretched of the earth learn that God is on their side. (or, in Luke, The wretched of the earth have God's salvation hospitality extended to them) Is this what you were expecting? Then count yourselves most blessed!" (Mt. 11, Lk 7 TM) Again, Matthew records as part of the feeding of the four thousand, When the people saw the mutes speaking, the maimed healthy, the paraplegics walking around, the blind looking around, they were astonished and let everyone know that God was blazingly alive among them. (Mt 15, TM)<br /> Life as Jesus lived and as He gave to others is the ability to notice, appreciate, celebrate, incorporate and participate in what God is doing in the world each and every day. That is why Jesus portrayed his ministry as giving eyes and ears, tongues and limbs, why He healed outcastes and embraced the ‘poor in spirit’ including them out of their exclusion from worldly society. That is why He gave life to dead people, to nephesh met, dead souls.<br /> I do not believe that abundant life has anything to do with material affluence. The so-called health and wealth gospel was devised for the itching ears of North Americans and is a travesty of the truth. I was formed with the expectation that life is about noticing and appreciating what God is doing when I was twenty-one, and on Youth Service Corps in Fonds-des-Negres, Haiti. I encountered so many Christians who celebrated the richness of life in Christ while having literally none of earth’s goods, nor having expectation of them! The witness of these simple, ‘poor’ people was not based on ignorance but upon richness of vision. The prevalence of voodoo was the parody and corruption of the spiritual energy which we felt in the church – sort of like the Garden of Eden experience all over again. Many of our people knew themselves to be walking and talking with Jesus each day- the flip of this is that some were tempted into embracing a more controllable spiritual experience, a magic, through voodoo.<br /> Life at its foundation is the ability to notice God and what He is doing. At a church in which there is life, the time spent together is all about noticing God – whether it is a liturgical church filled with Scripture reading and written prayers and sacred service, a Quaker community waiting on the Spirit, a contemporary fellowship with great singing and gifted worship leadership or a traditional congregation with eyes open and ears ‘dug’ for them by the Spirit. As people leave a living church service, they are convinced that they have noticed God in the compassionate fellowship, the corporate attentiveness, the joy, the love, the grace, the hope expressed. “We have together been with God”.<br /> Living Christians spend moments during the day, and time at the end of the day, just to record on paper or in memory all of the gracious sights and sounds of God at work they have noticed, in all of the various and surprising ways He has shown Himself to them and spoken to them. Not likely in Theophany but through intentional and ‘serendipitous’ contact with people and situations, by momentary glimpses and fixed vision. And living Christians pray with passion and purpose “..to see Thee more clearly…day by day.” Abundant life is about the richness of the vision- the quality, the clarity and the breadth of that which we hear and see. Jesus taught His followers over and over, “if you have seen me, you have seen the Father…I only do what I see the Father doing, so to see me at work is to see Him at work”. This remains the first part of the paradigm for life. And as Jesus suggested to John’s disciples, it is here and now for us a gift of God that we who otherwise would be blind see and we deaf hear. <br /> Over the years, the most common spiritual lament I have heard as a minister is that people no longer ‘see God.’ Try as they might, whether they run to the east and then to the west, God seems far away. A famine of hearing has overtaken them. They cannot find Him- He seems to be hiding His face from them. Praying the Psalms which speak directly to this difficulty is a help. But so is sabbatical and Sabbath, time bought out of the busyness of the market place, time of obedience to God, and the discipline of writing down everything which comes to our notice. God will be in this. God will always honour our discipline of notice.<br /> We notice because God helps us to notice by His Spirit. This ‘Friend’ specially given to us in the Church is for the purpose of our vision, But when the Friend comes, the Spirit of the Truth, he will take you by the hand and guide you into all the truth there is. He won't draw attention to himself, but will make sense out of what is about to happen and, indeed, out of all that I have done and said. He will honor me; he will take from me and deliver it to you. Everything the Father has is also mine. That is why I've said, 'He takes from me and delivers to you.' "In a day or so you're not going to see me, but then in another day or so you will see me." This is the beginning of the reality of “In _____ is life.” He or she or they notice God.<br /> And taking notice, living people and living churches ponder these things in their hearts, they consider the ways of God, they reflect, they contemplate, they search for truth. Is this what you were expecting? Then count yourselves most blessed!" The Spirit does indeed bring discernment, but life is also about our disciplines of contemplation. We need the word of God to dwell in us richly. Life absolutely requires examination and consideration, it does not happen by some kind of spiritual osmosis. If we desire life, our schedule must reflect this – in time for private personal contemplation, in time for corporate study and prayer. There is no such thing as life Lite, available to us through reading a good book in our spare time, or listening to Christian radio on our way to work. <br /> Jesus regularly led his followers away from the hustle and bustle to specifically consider the ways of God. Living Christians and living fellowships and churches must do the same today. Even when we discipline ourselves to write everything down, if we don’t then study what we have written it becomes, as James said, like those who glance in the mirror, walk away, and two minutes later have no idea who they are, what they look like. Investing time to consider what God is showing us is our critical contribution to life. Jesus often castigated his followers for their lack of understanding – they just were unwilling to pay the price of considering The Way which they were being shown.<br /> Wisdom is God-breathed, as is ‘heart’. But both happen as part of disciplined spiritual lives in which churches and individual Christians place themselves under the tutelage of the Spirit, to consider and appreciate the things they are hearing and seeing. God has made it clear that His thoughts are not our thoughts, nor His ways our ways. And yet He graciously allows the transformation to happen, the renewal of our minds, until this mind is in us which was in Christ Jesus. That is the gift of life - that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. A knowledge which engages us!<br /> A chronic weakness in the church and in individual Christians today is the lack of such integrated knowledge. Somehow, Jeremiah 31:33-4 "This is the covenant I will make with the house of Israel after that time," declares the LORD. "I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts… No longer will a man teach his neighbor, or a man his brother, saying, 'Know the LORD,' because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest," declares the LORD has been extrapolated to mean that all of this life wisdom comes passively, perhaps ‘charismatically’, without any work on our part. A Great Lie from the Deceiver!! There is a cost to life – there is work to be done! How gracious of God that such work can be so joyful and ‘heart-warming’ when done in fellowship!Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-54700220663358537132007-04-29T00:28:00.000-04:002007-04-29T01:11:43.725-04:00Behold Thou Art ThereOkay, so those of you raised on the KJV will be able to fill in the rest of this quotation. There is nothing like that old book for resonating phrases and metaphors which stand the test of time.<br /><br />Psalm 139:8 (King James Version)<br />8 If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.<br /><br />I've been making my bed in hell quite a bit over the last month. Barb had the lovely new baby. I got post partum depression. It was like the big push was over; he was here; he was healthy and lovely...and now what? I had trouble getting out of bed. The adrenalin rush was over. I suspected my anti-depressant meds were not working and felt, well, hellish.<br /><br />It always helps to talk these things through and I did; with God and Rob and my sister-in-law Heather and just as the clouds lifted and I felt energy returning and started to get into spring cleaning, I had a major accident with a sliding glass door, cuttung several tendons and a nerve in my right hand. Last Sunday I had plastic surgery to repair the damage and this week I started physio...painful but absolutely necessary to get back the use of my hand. The physiotherapist requires me to do ten repetitions every half hour of an exercise which is the therapeutic equivalent to giving the world the middle finger.<br /><br />In the meantime, Rob got a call from a specialist who is looking into some of his health problems. He is back on antibiotics for the fourth time in five months.<br /><br />And then, he was notified that the Salvation Army was changing the way it delivers Pastoral Care and that his contracts would not be renewed.<br /><br />I did my usual rant...much, much shorter in duration these days...I just have bits of negative garbage which have to come shooting out of my mouth for a few minutes. I don't believe any of it, but somehow I have this sort of magical thinking that if I say the worst things which come into my mind this will pre-empt anything worse happening...or if more bad things happen, they can't possibly be as bad as the scenarios I have already concocted. This means I cannot get any more depressed or disappointed.<br /><br />A few supportive prayers later, I didn't feel as bad. And by this evening, I was feeling triumphant. Barb had whizzed around the house cleaning for company which was coming to Dawsonwood for an overnight. Dylan had assessed and started into basement repairs necessitated by my breaking the slider and had hacked away at a little dry rot problem in the basement. Theren help was so welcome.<br /><br />I found that I can type in some manner using my right thumb and left hand.<br /><br />Rob will apply for his CPP. We won't starve. And to tell you the truth...Rob is as happy as he ever is...he says..."More time to play with my grandchildren." And maybe God has something better in store for him which will not require travelling 2,000 kms. per week!!!<br /><br />Psalm 139:7-10 (King James Version)<br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#cc0000;">7 Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence?<br />8 If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.<br />9 If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#cc0000;">10 Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.<br /></span></em></strong>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-11605836564275709202007-04-04T12:27:00.000-04:002007-04-04T12:35:00.177-04:00HERE HE IS AT LAST<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj1KVovsjce1fenWKGlsL87ge20JxjNeRCzdOyw5otl3qHOIBP9o4BOk3a4dCjbHijVz1vbsQCRo-ul3hhu7b4iUMeGwnCbn53fUPdrDc91AIWcv15oos9ex_f-frt2vADiFhu/s1600-h/PDR_0552.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049611351460036178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj1KVovsjce1fenWKGlsL87ge20JxjNeRCzdOyw5otl3qHOIBP9o4BOk3a4dCjbHijVz1vbsQCRo-ul3hhu7b4iUMeGwnCbn53fUPdrDc91AIWcv15oos9ex_f-frt2vADiFhu/s320/PDR_0552.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">William David Harris </div><div align="center">born</div><div align="center">April 2, 2007</div><div align="center">at</div><div align="center">Soldier's Memorial Hospital</div><div align="center">Orillia, Ontario</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">10:02 p.m.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">A miraculous 7 lbs. 10 oz.!!</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Mother and baby doing well; having a couple of days in hospital to establish breast feeding.<br /></div><div align="center">Thank you for your prayers. This is indeed a miracle. </div>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-13952157418089168352007-03-22T00:02:00.000-04:002007-03-22T00:22:27.287-04:00NO BABY YET<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvG4wN_at69Er0mSF3NHL1-aK7ufIgrsTMGMo97kVqjgAuTbwi62Om7UBZ-I32wQexNNCGRT1gYAmjBZBE3o8w1-rxZibw0IE4uXswFcUK-XvvtdF7_slZrtodlLomHCIY9xHn/s1600-h/New+Pictures003.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044598424700615218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvG4wN_at69Er0mSF3NHL1-aK7ufIgrsTMGMo97kVqjgAuTbwi62Om7UBZ-I32wQexNNCGRT1gYAmjBZBE3o8w1-rxZibw0IE4uXswFcUK-XvvtdF7_slZrtodlLomHCIY9xHn/s320/New+Pictures003.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Here is a picture of 'the princess and the frog' from last Hallowe'en. The frog doesn't look like he wants the princess to kiss him. We don't know yet whether or not he wants to share his bedroom with his expected new brother.<br /><div></div><br /><div>Okay, so Barb hasn't had her baby yet. We are into week four (at least) of bed rest for her and while it has been taxing on all of us...especially Barb...check that out at <a href="http://www.lovebarbara.blogger.com/">http://www.lovebarbara.blogger.com/</a> ...it has meant that the baby has grown more and is now, by ultrasound a whopping 6 lb. 4 oz.!!! We are really rejoicing that the bed rest (couch rest) has paid off, Barb's blood pressure has been better and the baby has had a chance to get more nourishment. Thank you to those who have been praying for her and her family.</div><div></div><div><br />I am grateful...that is all I can say...it is the extent of my spiritual reflections at this point in time. And I am feeling relieved and humorous tonight...maybe that is Spirit.<br /></div><br /><div><br /><div>Here is a picture of an unidentified friend on my recent trip to Florida.</div><br /><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9vELHQE7q5rgX7LtOj839Lu2cnUZ88kzp7TXgcjpnC08mIQBQekACJepqAgKP9nRko1PM6sqvbukdXrINioL2r9OEZpQtZqeJkVheuDeyrIpP-0K3iUVKOyuhod6_9ySWHE77/s1600-h/New+Pictures054.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044596079648471570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9vELHQE7q5rgX7LtOj839Lu2cnUZ88kzp7TXgcjpnC08mIQBQekACJepqAgKP9nRko1PM6sqvbukdXrINioL2r9OEZpQtZqeJkVheuDeyrIpP-0K3iUVKOyuhod6_9ySWHE77/s320/New+Pictures054.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />I can't risk messing up this simple post by trying to add any more snapshots. I'll post some of the new baby and his sibs and cousins when the time comes...the fullness of time, of course.<br /><br /></div><div></div></div>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-44393958621975214752007-03-04T09:52:00.001-05:002007-03-07T22:41:28.816-05:00Our Dog Babe<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAaGvCatIL5RWw8B4aYfEHOOfboG4TxWtLuq6uyXdtIxN2nNg4cbMENSdxYK_s8tEhOJVyPvhdUgipkQYdZaV2Lcu5V0tBzn1en9XasYf3_-SHLCqmA4mT95-DEZIZ91hJtgkx/s1600-h/Babe+sketch.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038661605620214722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAaGvCatIL5RWw8B4aYfEHOOfboG4TxWtLuq6uyXdtIxN2nNg4cbMENSdxYK_s8tEhOJVyPvhdUgipkQYdZaV2Lcu5V0tBzn1en9XasYf3_-SHLCqmA4mT95-DEZIZ91hJtgkx/s320/Babe+sketch.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVfcCxppffDRtAS6XL9G6jRF5GvZqmPCw0-_ZCJRD4GxG76axI9McIQNCgxc97r2oJMertsAmWSKzAaefQvu_ETMNeP7vJKLj3FrKUJatLS6vDt1mNzaNXTzZDkSYKGHg4qZRu/s1600-h/Sarah,+Babe+and+Barb.bmp"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0myzbUnww9Om58MwyI3u8Il6IhV_xp1-qwIfFwjUwZQMw0rJiqmfT543CYn_ZYz3P0hpncTFg_vvJqB56I7T7Fb_dDc6rzk8yFNJ_ZMdJBsXsQUYZ0sM6QeW23yn5saBHHr5/s1600-h/Babe+sketch.jpg"></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Our dog Babe died on Saturday evening, February 17. She would have been fifteen years old on March 1, well over 100 in human years. She did not die quietly in bed, but having escaped the house while I was putting out the recycling, that dog of independent mind decided to go roaming. She was dead before we noticed that she was missing. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div></div><div>I would like to think that she met her her end chasing a car, a favourite pastime of all her breed, but that is not the case. She trotted along, blending into the snowy shadows of the evening. Neither she, nor the kindly folk who hit her, had a chance. It is some comfort to know that she died instantly and in some ways, on her own terms. </div><div> </div><div>Highly intelligent, Babe had a stubborn streak. She would have felt it very undignified to have degenerated into a feeble, housebound, old age.Babe was incorrigibly bossy, knew what was good for river swimmers and skate board riders. Her sometimes irritating sharp barking and herding instinct were an inheritance from her forebears in the Shetland Islands. As she grew older, she kept her beauty, the Blue Merle markings of her pedigree and her lovely, wise face.</div><div></div><div><br />Our lives are forever changed. Rob misses his daily walks and hardly knows how to start his mornings. For several days after she died, I continued to hear Babe barking, not protractedly, just an occasional 'woof.' It was both disconcerting and comforting.</div><div></div><div><br />This past week Rob was away overnight for work, as he frequently is, and I was alone in the house. I realized just how companionable Babe was, particularly when a horrific storm of freezing rain and high winds interrupted sleep at 3:00 a.m.. Formerly, just having her at my door would have been reassuring. Now I found I could not sleep at all and finally got up and spent the rest of the night sweeping up and folding laundry. The house is empty. </div><div></div><div><br />Babe is linked to all of the memories of our lives over the last fifteen years. There was the time we had a fire in our Edwardian house in Orillia and we thought that Babe had succumbed. What a relief when the firefighters found her. Covered in soot, she came bolting out of the family room straight out the front door and raced around the house at breakneck speed, barking her lungs clear. Then there was the time, a couple of years later, when she wore a pink ribbon for my daughter Sarah's wedding day in October, 1999. Not two years later, she was part of the nursing team during my father's last illness. She sat patiently beside his chair, comforting him, licking gently the thin yet familiar hand that had petted her for years. </div><div></div><div><br />Rachael drew a picture of Babe and God looking down on us from heaven. God was a bright yellow cloud and sun and a rainbow. I added a sketch of a young Great Grandpa Ballantine playing in the eternal fields with Babe. Rachael called her picture 'Babe's Banner', and it has hung for a week in the breezeway where Babe rested in warmer weather.</div><div></div><div><br />We will not own another 'pet.' We travel too much. Our lives are far too busy for us to be the ideal companion humans. And we are getting older. Another 15 year old dog just might outlive us! My brother reminds me that there are still more than enough dogs in the family to keep us company. He knows that in my heart, no dog could replace Babe.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-630283162629518522007-02-13T18:35:00.000-05:002007-02-13T20:10:59.900-05:00Wes Roberts asks some questions<span style="font-size:+0;"></span><br />I read several recent posts by Wes Roberts, and as always, what this gentle and wise man had to say triggered explosions of thought. Take a look at his post for February 12, 2007 <a class="permalink" href="http://wesroberts.typepad.com/wes/2007/02/114what_do_we_c.html">Permalink</a> "113...what do we claim to be true?"<br /><br />Wes wrote: "War images can offend. Battle talk is uncomfortable for most...to be avoided. Thus, in the messiness of language, images, symbols, I believe, the wide ranging issues of spiritual warfare (...a fairly consistent theme in our life-text, the Bible...) gets minimized, ignored, and we pretend there is no such thing. There is......." Oh yes, to the sensitive little girl who grew up in The Salvation Army (Church, not Community Centre or Thrift Store) those war images have been offensive. Coming of age during the Vienam War, I was acutely uncomfortable with the externals attached to my roots in this Christian movement: uniform wearing, street meetings, knee drill (prayer meetings), and systems of hierarchical command. For most of my life I have avoided thinking about the Biblical context and the Divine imperative behind the notion of spiritual warfare.<br /><br />But Wes pointed me in the direction of Eugene Peterson's rendition of Ephesians 6:10 - 24 in which Saint Paul urges us all to take up the best spiritual weapons in order to enter into a fight to the death with the Devil. Here is the portion of the passage which spoke most deeply to me:<br /><br /><br /><div align="justify"><strong><em>Truth, righteousness, peace, faith, and salvation are more than words. Learn how to apply them. You'll need them throughout your life. God's Word is an indispensable weapon. In the same way, prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare. Pray hard and long. Pray for your brothers and sisters. Keep your eyes open. Keep each other's spirits up so that no one falls behind or drops out.</em></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><em></em></strong> </div><div align="justify"><strong><em></em></strong> </div><div align="justify"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Wes suggested some questions for reflection and I have chosen to respond in this blog to seal my intentions. </div><div align="left"><br />1. <em>Where do you need to take more seriously these words of our God?</em></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">"Truth, righteousness, peace, faith, and salvation are more than words." I need, as always, to embody these words in my daily life. 2007 is a year in which I have covenanted with God to be more even tempered emotionally and relationally. I need truth to anchor the sometimes unwieldy breadth of my unorthodoxy. I need righteousness, a clean heart and a clear mind, in order to do my work with my family and as a writer and volunteer therapist. I need peace in place of the rage I feel when trapped in circumstances beyond my control...rage never helps..."Lord, grant me the serenity..." I need faith to believe that God is in control of that vast host of things beyond my control. That is huge. And I need salvation, not in its limited and perhaps distorted sense of being 'born again,' but in its truest sense, which is deep healing. I need to experience salvation/healing daily in order to bring this balm into my small world. This is where I need to begin.</div><div align="left">2. <em>What will you do about that?</em></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I will write this blog. I will covenant with others to keep me focused and faithful (my name of course, 'constance.')</div><div align="left">3. <em>Where do you need to do battle for a variety of issues within your own soul?</em></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I need to do battle with fear. This is the microcosmic battleground for me. It is not sufficient to say, 'I have an anxiety disorder' and therefore I am excused from this particular battle. Rather, I think, this particular battle is enjoined on me with a special purpose. I must fight fear in order to release the gift of God which is within me and in order to be useful in this life, which, after all, is the only life I presently have.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">In the macrocosm: I believe that fear is the cause of much wrong headed thinking in this world. It is fear of differences, fear of others, fear of change, fear of self, fear of past, present and future which motivates the physical wars and rumours of wars which are destroying the world community. It is fear of surrendering to kindness and willing love which creates pain in marriages and families. It is fear of poverty which creates poverty through hording, lack of generosity, abuse of resources and wealth. And so on.<br />4. <em>How will you allow others to join you in the battle?</em></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I will write this blog. I will ask for prayer to keep my resolve. I will ask others to consider these questions and the import of Ephesians 6 for their lives.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">5. <em>What is God up to in your own life?</em></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">God has given me great blessings this year and more importantly, <em>awareness </em>of these blessings. My life is far, far from barren. Indeed, this barren woman is about to become a grandmother for the fifth time in as many years! My family is more cohesive, sharing and caring, living love despite uncertain circumstances. I am so grateful. My book has received a good response: people have laughed and cried and seen themselves in it. This is all I ever hoped for. This is very fulfilling and it is a direct result of my obedience to God...yes, obedience, another term I've cringed to own. My personal life vision and my mission statement are being fulfilled in ways beyond imagining. Despite fear, I am giving birth to Beauty, a commodity much touted but little understood.<br />6.<em> What all do you want our Triune God to be up to?</em></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Is this where I say, 'world peace?' Nope. I want God to continue to break down the walls between all people of faith. I want the battle for truth, righteousness, peace, faith and salvation to be joined on all fronts. I want God to open minds, to break down narrow sectarianism (another form of fear and an acute hindrance to the work of God in any generation). I want God to stir Christian imagination. And out of that great stirring, I want God to bring about creative and loving ways for Christians to confront evil in the world. I want God to help Western Christians to learn the lesson of turning the other cheek, which clearly is not weakness but wisdom since it comes from the mind of Jesus. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">So there are Wes's questions and my responses. Should you wish to answer the questions in your own blog, please do. The questions themselves are a kind of spiritual warfare, don't you think? </div>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-32507223221597016172007-01-24T21:59:00.001-05:002007-01-24T22:19:54.250-05:00Never Say Never<p>I’m writing from Florida, where it has been raining off and on since we arrived. That has not dampened our spirits since it is warm and anything above 0 C or 32 F feels warm to us. We got out of Muskoka just after the first staying snow. It is unheard of for the river not to freeze in late December. As we left the snow for the rain, a thin skim of ice was forming where the river runs slowest. With this brief respite, I believe winter of 2006-7 will be my shortest ever!! The rain here has been soft and summerish and I don’t mind it. </p><p>I once said I'd visited Florida once and I'd never visit Florida again. Never say never. Perhaps my first trip was coloured by the necessity to keep up with the energy the girls generated when they were ten and thirteen!! <br /><br />Highlights so far:<br /><br />1. tuna sesame salad (raw tuna on a bed of really fresh greens)…amazing<br />2. a display of about 500 miniature paintings at a gallery and a long conversation with Thomas Farrell, a loquacious Brit who is reputedly the foremost watercolour miniaturist in the world…wow<br />3. seeing an ancient documentary on sponge harvesting in Tarpon Springs…not only informative but nostalgically reminiscent of documentaries we used to see as 35 mm. movies in Elementary School way back in the middle of the twentieth century<br /><br />Lowlights so far:<br />1. Checking in and immediately out of our first hotel (mould, dirty blankets and carpet). Buyer beware, those picturs on the internet may be generic and may not represent what you are actually booking.<br />2. Leaving all my American money in Canada<br />3. Checking in to a second hotel and needing to change rooms the second night because of spiders, holes in curtains, lack of closet doors and no internet access…(all this for $100.00 CAN)<br /></p><p>The best thing is that almost everyone I see is older than me, and the worst thing is that almost everyone is older than me. I see my future in every approaching face!!</p><p><br />The score, then, is even so far…and all the little troubles of home seem far away. I thank God for these days and breathe blessings on this somewhat transient place: its elderly citizens, its gated communities, its giant billboards advertizing the specialties of litigation lawyers, its excellent restaurants, its alligators, pellicans, storks, palm trees, waterways and greens. </p>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-67985805556671017532007-01-12T23:04:00.000-05:002007-01-12T23:15:23.165-05:00Psychological Profiling by Dessert SelectionI haven't been feeling terribly profound lately. This test was supposedly developed by psychiatrists but sounds more like something a group of psychologists would come up with late at night at a convention in Atlantic City. <br /><br />I picked Lemon Meringue Pie and think that the description fits quite well, but those of you who know me best may have other opinions about that. Take this test and see if you think the appropriate description fits YOU. <br /><br />Love,Connie<br /><br />Don't cheat on this one, go with the first dessert you choose!!!<br /><br />If all of the desserts listed below were sitting in front of you, which would you choose (sorry, you can only pick one!) Trust me....this is very accurate. Pick your dessert, and then look to see what psychiatrists think about you.<br /><br />Here are your choices:<br /> <br /> 1. Angel Food Cake<br /> 2. Brownies<br /> 3. Lemon Meringue<br /> 4. Vanilla Cake With Chocolate Icing<br /> 5. Strawberry Short Cake<br /> 6. Chocolate on Chocolate<br /> 7. Ice Cream<br /> 8. Carrot Cake <br /><br />No, you can't change your mind once you scroll down, so think carefully what your choice will be.<br /><br />OK - Now that you've made your choice this is what the research says about you... SCROLL DOWN---No Cheating <br />1. ANGEL FOOD CAKE -- Sweet, loving, cuddly. You love all warm and fuzzy items. A little nutty at times. Sometimes you need an ice cream cone at the end of the day. Others perceive you as being childlike and immature at times. <br />2. BROWNIES -- You are adventurous, love new ideas, and are a champion of underdogs and a slayer of dragons. When tempers flare up you whip out your saber. You are always the oddball with a unique sense of humor and direction. You tend to be very loyal. <br />3. LEMON MERINGUE -- Smooth, sexy, & articulate with your hands, you are an excellent after-dinner speaker and a good teacher. But don't try to walk and chew gum at the same time. A bit of a diva at times, but you have many friends. <br />4. VANILLA CAKE WITH CHOCOLATE ICING --Fun-loving, sassy, humorous, not very grounded in life; very indecisive and lack motivation. Everyone enjoys being around you, but you are a practical joker. Others should be cautious in making you mad. However, you are a friend for life.<br />5. STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE -- Romantic, warm, loving. You care about other people, can be counted on in a pinch and expect the same in return. Intuitively keen. Can be very emotional. <br />6. CHOCOLATE ON CHOCOLATE -- Sexy; always ready to give and receive. Very creative, adventurous, ambitious, and passionate. You can appear to have a cold exterior but are warm on the inside. Not afraid to take chances. Will not settle for anything average in life. Love to laugh. <br />7. ICE CREAM -- You like sports, whether it be baseball, football, basketball, or soccer. If you could, you would like to participate, but you enjoy watching sports. You don't like to give up the remote control. You tend to be self-centered and high maintenance. <br />8. CARROT CAKE -- You are a very fun loving person, who likes to laugh. You are fun to be with. People like to hang out with you. You are a very warm hearted person and a little quirky at times. You have many loyal friends. <br /><br />Okay. Tell me what type you are in the comments below or email me at <a href="mailto:conniek_4@sympatico.ca">conniek_4@sympatico.ca</a>. Email your friends and get them to take the test. I want to hear from the invisible ones, too. And it would be interesting to know how accurate you think the descriptions are of YOU. Those psychologists or psychiatrists could not possibly have normed this test. I wonder how that would be done? <br /><br /> <<a href="http://www.incredimail.com/index.asp?id=99439">http://www.incredimail.com/index.asp?id=99439</a>>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-41472879399491970432007-01-03T10:04:00.000-05:002007-01-03T10:38:12.241-05:00From Norway with LoveWe have had no snow in Muskoka this Christmas. This is very rare. Our first Muskoka Christmas, it was -40 degrees. I can't remember if this was Fahrenheit or Celsius, but at that temperature, the difference is so slight as to be irrelevant. The oil in our car froze. The air stung our cheeks red and snatched at breath turning it instantly to ice on thick scarves and parka hoods. All was deep winter blue by day and star pricked silky black by night.<br /><br />According to weather experts, in the last forty years in Canada, thirty-eight have been warmer than usual and only two colder. This lends some startling statistical support to the general sense we all have that winters are not what they used to be.<br /><br />This morning I gasped with delight at these pictures from Norway taken by a friend of a friend, Ruth Elizabeth, a woman of spirit and creativity. They caused me to praise God for Beauty and to be a bit wistful about old Muskoka winters. The titles are mine, the phrase 'The Blue Hour' belongs to Ruth Elizabeth.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015822563212307154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 354px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="270" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgATnbQNjTQxo5yljwsyGbE_MycDXWUjet-46Cx539b7ITQG2grXjoPm5oa5EytW2ko29uutbpD5P-WKF8HWytsG3w72E5JRBY2Y3UUDM7ToBbcWLDICneOJZINk_UZzZRnARyf/s320/The+Blue+Hour.bmp" width="213" border="0" /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>The Blue Hour</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu1BwGSYIWyhqzfVGghR84CHzs4PIbSdeIubjLbhgrqhOV4ThjR5-d0dFuzk7UYIOm_9J6Ln_VEygLE-djg3YcykPMo94nGgnUtYlPoX7Jkwn2AyklKthe5wF7NfKbJWfCwNds/s1600-h/Skyscape+in+winter.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015822133715577538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu1BwGSYIWyhqzfVGghR84CHzs4PIbSdeIubjLbhgrqhOV4ThjR5-d0dFuzk7UYIOm_9J6Ln_VEygLE-djg3YcykPMo94nGgnUtYlPoX7Jkwn2AyklKthe5wF7NfKbJWfCwNds/s320/Skyscape+in+winter.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><strong>Skyscape</strong></div><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5015821553894992562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpVB0u7Urg3SUM2cTaL6ywESYLe4lJVui_NOoDvGh7aJy3t-jjlWzh0swzXVyJcmLVM7TfE0qfMvDg0sOV_-Zm0xEbMb0n2NhpGO5yGzEjoo5w6nYIK_l1lhXPqV459h__XAY0/s320/Moon+in+the+Morning.bmp" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><strong>Moon in the Morning</strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left">I feel poetry rising.<br /></div>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-36978143956086095152006-12-21T00:10:00.000-05:002006-12-29T07:35:54.293-05:00Bobbie's Five Things RequestBobbie at emergingsideways, <a href="http://emergingsideways.blogspot.com/">http://emergingsideways.blogspot.com/</a> tagged me to list five things you do not know about me. Get over to her blog and read some really fascinating Bobbie facts which go deep. I'm not sure yet how profound my own revelations will be but I've been contemplating this for the last two hours while sculpting a Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus out of Marzipan for the top of a Happy Birthday to Jesus cake. Whenever I glance over at Mary, sitting on wax paper atop my cookie jar she seems to be more squat. Marzipan is a very malleable medium. You probably didn't know that I was capable of sugar sculpture but this is not my first unknown thing. Here are my five self disclosures:<br /><br />1. I am extremely impetuous. I tackle many things for which I have no experience whatsoever, such as making Marzipan decorations. I never research beforehand but grab an idea and run with it and learn while doing. I have yet to figure out whether this saves me time or makes the task longer. The famous Walker's Point Quilt Project, which came miraculously to an end with a presentation to the Church at Thanksgiving and to the community as a whole last Saturday, was a case in point. Most of what I knew about quilting before I started could have been written on the back of a postage stamp and still could, but the quilt is beautiful.<br /><br /><br />2. I have a mood disorder which is called hypomania, a mild form of bi-polar disorder. On the one hand, I believe this disorder may contribute to my creativity, while on the other hand, perhaps my creativity contributes to the disorder. When I am in a true manic phase, all creativity grinds to a halt because I can't concentrate long enough to finish things, have too many projects running at the same time and don't get enough sleep to be rested enough to be creative. Impetuousity and impulsivity are certainly linked to this mood disorder. While I still take anti-depressants to control the debilitating low mood swings, I have been off of lithium for nearly two years. I can control manic episodes by listening to feedback from those closest to me, resting more, and being more intentional about my life. Lately I have missed a number of nights of sleep because of a restless, elevated mood. While this gift of extra time resulted in the completion of the painting in the everlasting kitchen renovation, I am heeding the warning and will get to bed as soon as this post is finished. Ah, but will I sleep? (Surely this disclosure counts as more than five things in and of itself.)<br /><br />3. I have managed to lose twelve pounds this year by eating salads and decreasing carbs. Now it is winter and that primitive part of my brain craves all those foods which will be my undoing. Perhaps just saying this in this space will encourage me to keep on with diet and exercise. I have felt better with those pounds off and my clothes fitting nicely. I've even felt sexy!!!<br /><br />4. Some of you will know this, but I share it again anyway because it is a seasonal story and really belongs in<em> Ripley's Believe It or Not</em>. I am one of the few persons still living who has sung 'O Holy Night' in the Toronto Stock Exchange. This happened in the 1970's, a less politically correct time in Canada. It was a tradition that the old TSE would shut down for those few minutes when the woman from The Salvation Army sang that particular favourite carol. It was a respect thing, I think, back then, because, truth to tell, few brokers were christians. I'll write about the many facets of this experience in The Dawsonwood Diaries 'winter' edition...coming in three years time.<br /><br />5. My website <a href="http://www.dawsonwooddiaries.com">www.dawsonwooddiaries.com</a> is up and running and while it is not news that I wrote a book, somewhat impetuously this year, it will be news that the website is functional. Please, you don't have to buy a book. Just go to the site briefly every day and get your friends to go to the site. Just hit it...because this somehow helps something that I don't understand, which is another example of how I launch into ventures without having a clue what I am doing. For instance, Paypal is working and people have received books through ordering them online...but I have yet to figure out where the money which they sent me has gone...that might involve research. Will I find it on my Visa as a deposit? Does Paypal hold it until I buy something from someone else? Does it lurk forever in cyberspace? Does anybody know the answer to that?<br /><br />You see how ignorance can co-exist quite comfortably with wisdom...but I'm not proud of that!!!<br /><br />Thank you Bobbie.Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-39151541528063987652006-11-22T18:11:00.000-05:002006-11-22T18:52:03.161-05:00THE DAWSONWOOD DIARIES ARE HERE<img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/250/1104/320/Dawsonwood%20Book%20Cover.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div>What can I say? Thank you God for your faithfulness. Thank you to all the friends and family who encouraged me to do this. Strange, after delays and set backs and a switch of publishers right at the end of the process, what I feel is relief and an urging to get on with the next book!!!</div><div></div><div>Who could imagine this miracle would finally come after a lifetime of writing? I don't believe I ever would have done this if it hadn't been for Linwood House Ministries, a mission trip to Bulgaria and a Path Workshop at Linwood House just two years ago. I would never have written this book if it were not for the excitement of blogging and the encouraging comments of blogging friends.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>The book is available in person at:</div><div></div><div><strong>The Gingerbread House and Reader's World, </strong>Manitoba Street in Bracebridge for $16.95 </div><div> </div><div> </div><div></div><div align="center">or</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="left">By snail mailing me with a cheque enclosed:</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Connie Knighton</div><div align="left">13 Dawsonwood Drive,</div><div align="left">Bracebridge, Ontario</div><div align="left">P1L 1G5</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Friends and family pricing for books including shipping and tax is:</div><div align="left">$20.00 for one book</div><div align="left">$34.00 for two books</div><div align="left">$15.00 each for three books or more</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">My website will be up and running in a few days and it will be possible to order books through that <a href="http://www.dawsonwooddiaries.com">www.dawsonwooddiaries.com</a> using Paypal. Bookmark Self Publishing are sponsoring the web page and books will also be available through their online service. Xlibris, Amazon.com and other big names have the book listed on the websites but they do not have books. Don't try to order from them.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Pray that this book will provoke reflection and bring beauty into the lives of readers, because that's where it all started, with a mission statement. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>To conceive and give birth to Beauty.</strong></div><div></div><div><strong></strong></div><div></div>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-1163719003766176582006-11-16T18:10:00.000-05:002006-11-16T22:15:37.988-05:00A WORD FROM THE POLITICALLY RESPONSIBLEOkay. So there are real people out there who are trying to make a difference. In a real way. Check out what Mike Todd and his friend Robert are doing for HIV/AIDS by supporting the Stephen Lewis Foundation. It's brilliant, and who needs a red ipod anyway? Check out Mike's idea at <a href="http://miketodd.typepad.com/waving_or_drowning/"></a><a href="http://miketodd.typepad.com/waving_or_drowning/">http://miketodd.typepad.com/waving_or_drowning/</a><br /><br />And then there is Joan Chittister, peacemaker and world activist. This week she is writing movingly about her trip to Syria. Theologically profound and morally challenging as ever, Joan says that the <em><strong>Road to Damascus is still a place for conversions. </strong></em><br /><br />Here in part is what she has to say. Read it in full at her site below:<br /><br />"We decided that this time we would go straight to the religious leaders of the country to ask them what kind of a place they thought Syria to be.<br /><br />First we met with His Beatitude Patriarch Ignatius IV Hazim, Patriarch of Antioch and the Entire East for the Russian Orthodox. He was very kind but very straight forward:<br /><br />"We don't know the American people. We only hear the President . . . and we have a deep resentment about the image of Syria in the U.S. Syria is not an Islamic country. Syria is a secular state. . . . We are not oppressed as Christians. Look at our cathedral. It is no tent!"<br /><br />His points were clear and the scene was set: Christianity was not being oppressed in Syria. Christianity was one religion among many there. Just as it is in the United States...<br /><br />They would show us the modern church, they told us, in one of the oldest Christian populations in the world.<br /><br />Our first appointment, they told us, would be a trip to "meet with the Iraqis."<br /><br />The Iraqis? What did that mean? We were, after all, in Syria."<br /><br />As we wound our way back from the Patriarch's palace, through the narrow back lanes of the city, I realized that Paul of Tarsus had walked in this very area, too. "Not in this area," our translator said. "Paul walked here. Here. On this street. I will show you." And, all of a sudden, we emerged "on the street called "Straight" talked about in Scripture.<br /><br />The impact of the statement was far more than biblical. Damascus is the longest continuously populated city in human history. More than 7,000 years old, they tell us. We were on the very street that ties the early moments of Christianity with today's struggles..."<br /><br />Read this brilliant work in full at: <a href="http://ncrcafe.org/node/677">http://ncrcafe.org/node/677</a>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-1163513864881669772006-11-14T09:16:00.000-05:002006-11-14T09:21:46.630-05:00PROCRASTINATIONDeb, over at Constantly Abiding, has written on procrastination. Click on the title of this piece to view some art and her words on the subject.<br /><br />I’ve given this some thought and this thought turned itself into a post. Of course, by doing this, I am neglecting to finish the story I have to tell in front of 1,500 people on December 2, 2006. But at least I am doing something! And it involves creativity.<br /><br />Procrastination is the dreaded twin of perfectionism. Perfectionism is the good twin, always clean and prompt, always saying the right thing. Procrastination is the outwardly compliant child, who seethes with inner rebellion. She is the one who desires success and fears failure to the point of immobility.<br /><br />My father always claimed that life was short. By repeating this endlessly, he hoped to spur my brother and me on to action. This became a family slogan. ‘Life is short.’ ‘Life is short.’ We should have it on a coat of arms. But I never truly believed my father until I myself reached my fifties. There is nothing like the brevity of time to spur a soul to action. Life goals become urgent goals when one can see the horizon of old age. <br /><br />One thing that always interfered with my beginning a project was the certain knowledge that I would run into obstacles to its smooth completion. Now I have embraced this notion as a friend and give myself some time to resolve these obstacles without adding to the time-line stress of the project. Sometimes I just look at procrastination as planning time...time to figure out how I am going to tackle something.<br /><br />Strangely, procrastination is related to impatience. I want the job done and I want it done yesterday. Since that is impossible, I don't begin at all. But amazingly, I am learning to calculate the length of time it will take me to complete a project and budget in difficulties and fatigue. I am actually tackling my ridiculous kitchen cabinets in this way...with small roller and tiny brush, a bank of cabinets at a time. It is so much better than trying to cram the whole project into an eight hour push.<br /><br />Then, if a task is boring, I find music, conversation or an interesting documentary to provide the background intellectual stimulation required for the completion of the job. At my age, time is compressed. I multitask on tedious tasks; quietly clean out a cupboard while talking on the phone, for instance.<br /><br />I suspect when it comes down to it, I will procrastinate about dying. I will linger on the brink of eternity, gazing over into the Promised Land and tarry, hoping to get one or two more things accomplished before the next life. Which is totally ridiculous! <br /><br />What does the Lord require of us? Do we procrastinate about those things? Living justly? Loving mercy? Walking humbly? It seems to me that it might be possible to do these things while walking down the street. They aren't something to procrastinate about. They are a way of being in the world which obviates the necessity to accomplish anything at all.<br /><br />In the end, self acceptance and forgiveness will go a long way to healing the problem of procrastination. I get more done when I am not nagging myself to death. And I think this pleases God who welcomes loving service as opposed to grudging obedience.Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-1162907451844451852006-11-07T08:44:00.000-05:002006-11-07T08:50:51.893-05:00KNIGHTON NEWS IN BRIEFI have never done this before. Carefully crafted words have appeared on this blog. I have wanted nothing less. But right now there is no time for anything except an update. Here is the Knighton news in brief:<br /><br />My grandson Robbie underwent successful surgery on the twenty-third of October. He is doing extremely well as measured by the amount of mischief he is getting into on a minute by minute basis. His asthma is well controlled. We are praising God.<br /><br />I cancelled my book project with Xlibris when I discovered that the book would cost me…drum roll...$60.00 US, per book, on top of other costs to bring it to Canada. Of course, this was not stated up front. I was told there were hundreds of Canadian authors in their stables. Who? Margaret Atwood? Farley Mowat? I can’t think of any author whose work might be worth in the neighbourhood of $75.00 in paperback.<br /><br />Xlibris did me a favour, although for a couple of days I was reeling. I have never in my life been both as speechless and as articulate in anger at one and the same time. In truth, if I had not been able to go straight to the phone to sign on with Xlibris last March, I might never have written this first, long delayed book. <br /><br />Bookmark Publishing is doing the book in Canada. The small team there has been attentive, enthusiastic and helpful in the extreme and the book will be ready for December 2, 2006 when I tell a story at <strong>Christmas with The Salvation Army </strong>at Roy Thompson Hall in Toronto. Yes.<br /><br />The often delayed book launch will be at The Gingerbread House in Bracebridge on the twenty-fifth of November. Yes, this year.<br /><br />The website for ordering the book is www.dawsonwooddiaries.com and is being set up and hosted for me by Bookmark. I’ll let you know when it is running…but I suspect this will be within the next two weeks. While Bookmark will have a few copies to supply through its own online services, the first volume of The Dawsonwood Diaries will be lovingly wrapped and shipped out to you by me from Dawsonwood Cottage.<br /><br />Birthdays have been celebrated by Rachael who says proudly that she is five and she is the oldest grandchild and by my daughter Sarah who is twenty-nine, where I expect her to remain for some time, and by me, aaaagh, and by my mother, who is eighty-eight but blissfully unaware of the fact. My niece Carolyn, also turned twenty-nine and gave birth to her daughter, Hannah Gabrielle, a few days later. Rob’s sister and her husband celebrated their silver wedding anniversary. Barbara is half way through her pregnancy and we are much relieved about that. <br /><br />My brother Len and his wife Heather have taken on the responsibility for Yorkminster Community Church of The Salvation Army which is visible from the 401 corridor and is a Toronto landmark. For those of you who know the area, it is the A-frame church which appears to be at the corner of 401 and Yonge, but is really on Lord Seaton Drive. Drop by if you are in Toronto at eleven on a Sunday morning. Great blended worship, wonderful multi-racial, multi-cultural congregation with simultaneous translation of the service if you are a Spanish speaker. Yes, not French, Spanish. Yes, in Canada. <br /><br />God is blessing me with new cupboard doors in The Dawsonwood kitchen, because I didn’t do a good paint job last year and things look shabby. I have never posted pictures of the Dawsonwood kitchen renovation because <strong>I HATED WHAT I DID </strong>to that poor room. Well, not the colour scheme, the countertops or the built in seat…but the cupboards. Aaagh.<br /><br />My client base is building. I’m not sure if I am happy or sad about that. But life is full. I always need to measure out my commitments and have a tendency to over schedule myself. I’ve accepted the responsibility of being rehearsal pianist for our local production of <strong>Oliver</strong>, which Rob is conducting. This will be a stretch for me.<br /><br />This post sounds like a Christmas letter but it encompasses only a month of events in our family. I’ve added a site meter to my blog and if I want people to linger more than 24 seconds, I’ll have to write MORE INTERESTINGLY, MORE CONSISTENTLY and visit you all at your sites. And post pictures and do more frequent links. I doubt that I am going to get political, but you never know.<br /><br />Our municipal election is happening by post as I write. Rob got two ballots. Does this mean he gets to vote twice? I think it was safer when we all lumbered ourselves in to the polling station. So far, an astronomical number of ballots have been spoiled because the process is so complicated. And, I would really like to know how many people got more than one ballot in the mail.Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-1161025143292185012006-10-16T14:59:00.000-04:002006-10-19T09:00:32.343-04:00SOUL LANGUAGEPoetry is of the heart, soul language, a distillation of human feeling. It is refined thought. It is often prayer. Poetry resonates with personal story. We are moved by the opening line of Psalm 130 because it describes the essence of a human experience: </span><em><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O LORD. </span></em><span style="font-family:Georgia;">This feeling, we know! </span><br/><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Most of the poetry which I have written for worship services is themed for a special occasion, often a holy day, a commemoration or covenant day. At its best the work arises from heightened spiritual awareness or life changing experience. The writing process is reflective of Wordsworth’s ‘emotion recollected in tranquility.’ </span><br/><span style="font-family:Georgia;">One of the first such poems, </span><strong><em><span style="font-family:Georgia;">The Passing of Janice Worthy</span></em></strong><span style="font-family:Georgia;">, was written in a night-long storm of grief following the death of a young friend. I was called to the hospital on my way to the beach. Dressed in shorts, I felt inadequate to my priestly role. In a gesture which seems absurd now, I raced home to change into uniform!! Janice, thoughtful as ever, waited. What followed was a compassionate release in which she taught me about forgiveness, love and dying well. I learned about pride and helplessness in the face of ultimate reality and that my deficiencies were irrelevant. </span><br/><span style="font-family:Georgia;">Read at Janice’s funeral, the poem was later set to music by my brother (Major Len Ballantine) and sung in concert. Surprisingly, a Christian teacher used it for years in his poetry curriculum. In part, the poem reads:</span><br/><span style="font-family:Georgia;"></span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">From the other side </span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">she saw us as we were,</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;"> our shallowness,</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;"> our foolish fears,</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;"> our pride.</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">As in life</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">it made no difference.</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">Still she gave us love,</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">forgetting the limits of our own.</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">So</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">simply, she taught us much.</span><br/><span style="font-family:Georgia;"> </span><br/><span style="font-family:Georgia;">A poem from the other end of human experience was written for the dedication of a grandchild. It springs from a lifetime of watching parents struggle to do their best in a world which compromises their efforts. This poem is about the discipline of relinquishment and trust in the benevolence of God. It speaks of our inability to control outcomes. We surrender our children because we never owned them in the first place. Their destiny is to become individuals, personally accountable before the One who loves them supremely. The poem ends:</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">But when we give our little children to God</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">we pray that the Divine,</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">implanted deep,</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">will draw them back.</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">Love Alone </span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">despite the dusty years</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">recalls the golden limbed child,</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">his zeal of heart,</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">her innate godliness.</span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">Wholeness returns </span><br/><span style="font-size:130%;">when we give our children up to God.</span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><br/><span style="font-family:Georgia;"> </span><br/><span style="font-family:Georgia;"> For me, poetry provides a bridge into the mystery of the work of Holy Spirit. It issues from the dialogue of prayer and a life journey with Jesus. It is healing. Offered in worship, poetry connects us to each other and to Abba, the parent of our hope. </span><br/><span style="font-family:Georgia;"></span><br/><span style="font-family:Georgia;"> </span><br/><span style="font-family:Georgia;"></span>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-1160146316871991422006-10-06T10:29:00.002-04:002006-10-06T11:08:56.196-04:00How Do We ForgiveRecently I was asked to sign a world wide petition against the early release of Jon Venables and Robert Thompson who tortured and killed a tiny boy who had wandered away from his mother in a shopping mall in Liverpool, England.<br /><br />I quote from the email:<br /><br /> <em>They took Jamie for a walk for over two and a half miles, along the way, stopping every now and again to torture the poor little boy who was crying constantly for his Mommy. Finally they stopped at a railway track where they brutally kicked him, threw stones at him,rubbed paint in his eyes and pushed batteries up his anus. It was actually worse than this. What those two boys did was so horrendous that Jamie's mother was forbidden to identify his body. They then left his beaten small body on the tracks so a train could run him over to hide the mess they had created. These two boys, even being boys, understood what they did was wrong, hence trying to make it look like an accident. <br /><br />This week, Lady Justice Butler-Sloss has awarded the two boys anonymity for the rest of their lives when they leave custody with new identities. We cannot let this happen. They will also leave early this year only serving just over half of their sentence. One paper even stated that Robert may go on to University. They are getting away with their crime. They disgustingly and violently took Jamie's life away. In return they each get a new life.</em><br /><br />This is horrendous. I decry it. And yet I cannot sign the petition. This was my response, for what it is worth.<br /><br />Dear Friends,<br /><br />I cannot forward this on. It has taken me some days to address my feelings about this and I feel strongly enough to invite you all to hear my thinking.<br /><br />I remember the case well and the actions of these boys was egregious and yes, in many ways they 'knew' what they were doing. However, laws governing crimes committed by children are different from laws governing crimes committed by adults. Children cannot be said to be fully aware of the consequences of their actions. For instance, children have been known to jump out of apartment building windows with the mistaken notion that they might fly like superman or that they will resurrect themselves at the bottom like the eternally living Road Runner. In short, high functioning reasoning including the ability to foresee the consequences of actions develops very late in children...continuing into late adolescence up to the age of twenty-five or so. This speaks to ongoing neurological development which is necessary for logical reasoning and decision making. <br /><br />While empathy and compassion develop early in some children and I think that both of my older grandchildren are good examples of this, some children are slow to identify with the suffering of others and there is much in our culture to support this. If these boys have participated in endless violent computer games and have watched inappropriately violent material on TV, they will have seen modeled a callous attitude to the suffering of others...I mean, who grieves for a death in a computer game? This means that not only the boys, but also their parents are culpable and by extension...ALL OF US who support violent films and video games in the name of artistic licence and individual freedom are guilty. It can be argued that an adult watching such material can exercise some detachment and has the ability to enter into entertainment with what has traditionally been known as "willing suspension of disbelief"...in other words we know that we are watching fiction and sometimes even ponder "I wonder how they did that?" while watching buildings blow up and cars fly off the ends of broken bridges and so on. Such distinctions are not so immediately apparent to children.<br /><br />And having said that, I personally know of an abusive ADULT who dons camoflage gear and a helmet while playing violent video games. In him the distinction between reality and fiction is fairly well blurred. He is into control and he has this reinforced by his 'hobby.' If and when he enters completely into his fantasy world, none of us should be surprised.<br /><br />We might take note of what has happened to those innocent Amish girls and the amazing example of peace and forgiveness which the Amish community is extending to the widow of a seriously deranged man who killed and maimed those little girls. This is a model which the whole world would benefit from. Just imagine if such forgiveness were extended in Israel and Palestine and Lebanon, in Iraq and let alone in The United States itself. The Amish may be backward in the eyes of mainstream society but their Christian attitude is precisely what Christ wants for us all. They are salt and light in the world and this is a moment in history in which their gentle behaviour could teach us all. <br /><br />Yes, I believe the boys might well have served out their full sentences but we have not been made privy to the therapy which they have undergone, and it is safe to assume that they have not been deemed a threat to society...that is, they do not shown nacient signs of Psychopathology at this time. <br /><br />This is my lengthy reasoned response. Would I feel the same if one of my grandchildren had been the victim? I don't know. But I am working hard to think and feel at the same time and this capacity is what separates us from the preying animals, both beasts and humans. <br /><br />Finally, when we are forgiven by God, we all get new pasts. This, on Canadian Thanksgiving Weekend, is something to celebrate indeed. And should any of us find ourselves in Church to celebrate Thanksgiving this weekend, let us fully pray, "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." It is a difficult line. <br /><br />Pray for the two boys who have committed this atrocious act and pray for the family of the little boy who was so brutally killed. Pray that some good may come out of such extended misery. This is truly casting your vote where it counts. <br /><br />Oh God,<br />Give us hearts of compassion where we seek an understandable revenge.<br />Open our minds to your wider justice.<br />Help us not to fear those who would kill our bodies but those who would maim and ruin our souls.<br />Amen<br /><br />Connie Knighton B.A., M.T.S., M.F.T. <br /><br /><br /><br /><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-1158589696233515632006-09-18T09:18:00.000-04:002006-09-18T10:28:16.493-04:00I'M BACKHello, Dear Friends,<br /><br />I've missed you all. I've missed tracing your journeys and the special gift of your wisdom. Blogging has been integral to my growth in God over the past two years and I gave it up only to embrace a greater good, which was to write the first of four books of spiritual reflection. I expect my last galleys to arrive by this Wednesday and hope to have the book in print by a projected book launch on Saturday, October 28, 2006.<br /><br />Writing 'The Dawsonwood Diaries' has seriously disrupted routines at Dawsonwood Cottage. I found that I wrote best first thing in the morning and in the later evening and on into the night. It was not unusual for me to be nattering away at the computer until three o'clock in the morning. Is this late or really early???<br /><br />On the whole, I am pleased with the result, although I was dismayed to find that I had edited about six chapters in hard copy and then 'forgot' to make the necessary alterations to my disk. This necessitated more corrections of galleys than I had hoped. And typos did slip in no matter how well Rob and I edited. All of this slowed down the process.<br /><br />I had the most encouraging letter of rejection from Knopf, a division of Random House, with recommendations that I go to Word, Castle Quay or Zondervan. Even though the diary is marginally fictionalized, it really is autobiographical in nature and therefore not within their specific mandate. I wanted the book to be out in time for speaking engagements this fall and therefore chose to self publish through Xlibris, also a division of Random House. If this book draws any interest at all, I will find a way to publish the next book through a Christian publisher.<br /><br />Yes, the book is about Christian spirituality and personal growth. This surprised me somewhat in the end, not that I would deny Christ, but I really thought that there would be more of a family therapy emphasis in my stories about my family. Not so. In the end, I am really writing about the context of my awareness of God and the fact that this came to me through family. It is about how God uses the imperfection of my creatureliness. It is about doubts as well as certainties. It is about the foundations of my attachment to God. It is about the heart of God for the strange and seemingly invisible people who have taught me much over a lifetime. <br /><br />The book is serendipitous but I discovered that certain life themes came through in the end. I suppose that with diary entries being reflections somewhat losely connected, it would make good bathroom reading.<br /><br />I am still debriefing this experience for myself, so please forgive me if my next few posts explore this a little more. I'll be visiting your blogs today to see what you are doing. There will be a bit of back reading to catch up on and I don't expect to read all the way backward to April, but I do want to catch up on my friends' thoughts, struggles and triumphs.<br /><br />With affection,<br />Blessings,<br />ConnieConstancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-1145848665217507472006-04-23T23:17:00.000-04:002006-04-23T23:29:04.760-04:00UPDATE<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6764/642/1600/2006%20054.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6764/642/320/2006%20054.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:85%;">UPDATE</span></em></strong><br/><strong><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></strong><br/><span style="font-size:85%;">Dear Friends,</span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;">Some of you have written to ask where I am and how I am doing. Well, I’m right here, ‘not’ writing away. The book I am ‘not’ writing is being published in time for October distribution. It will be available online and from other sources. I have always been a stubborn soul, somewhat oppositional. Just tell me I can’t do something and I will. When I told myself I wasn’t writing a book, it started writing itself.</span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;">I have an engagement to do a Christmas monologue for a concert in a major Toronto venue at Christmas time. I want my book available in the foyer. This is my last big chance…and since I have blown any number of opportunities in the past, and since I am not likely to pass this way again…I’m going for it. Whatever energies I have are being invested in this project.</span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;">I am sorry to have missed out on so much which you have written over the last month or so…and I have to keep missing out until this work is done. I think of you often and keep your faces and selves in my prayers. Blogging has been a major impetus for me to get back to what I have always wanted to do.</span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;">Now, I am going to tell myself that I will not lose weight before the Christmas concert, nor will I lose weight in order to look thin in my book picture. I absolutely am resolved not to diet and exercise for any reason whatsoever, especially for reasons of pride. </span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;">I’ll connect again in early June. Looking forward to reading backwards through your blogs….which is a little like I am writing this book…all chapters at once…back and forth, upside down and sideways.</span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;">Love,</span><br/><span style="font-size:85%;">Connie </span>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-1142522518498808182006-03-16T10:21:00.000-05:002006-03-16T10:32:41.943-05:00My Friend RichThose of you who have been reading my posts for a while may remember a series of posts on enacted prayer. My friend Rich Swingle who introduced me to the notion of enacted prayer is starring in this off broadway production and those of you who live in or around New York just might be interested. Click on title above for more information about Rich. Read on for his press release: <br /><br />What do a 20th Century Olympic “Gold Medalist” and the 18th Century “Golden Boy” of Methodism have in common? They are both the subjects of off-Broadway, one-man plays appearing at Theatre 315 (315 West 47th Street between 8th and 9th Avenues in New York City) from April 17 through April 23.<br /><br />Critically acclaimed actor Rich Swingle’s new play, “Beyond the Chariots,” takes up where the Oscar-winning (Best Picture, 1981) movie, Chariots of Fire, leaves off. In dramatic style, he chronicles the incredible adventures of 1924 Olympic Gold medal runner Eric Liddell in war-torn China. Swingle recently performed the play in Hong Kong, where Dr. James Hudson Taylor, III, saw it. As a boy Taylor was with Liddell in the Japanese concentration camp featured in the play. Taylor called the performance, "authentic, moving, thought provoking!"<br /><br />On alternate performances, you can enjoy the wit and wisdom of pioneer John Wesley as he rides on horseback 250,000 miles across the 18th Century British Isles. In “The Man from Aldersgate,” award-winning actor Roger Nelson recreates the life of the founder of the Methodist Church—as only Nelson can in 1,300 performances, in 32 countries, and all 50 States!<br /><br />And to make sure these glittering performances really do shine, Broadway lighting designer David Lander (Dirty Blonde and Golden Child) will be working his magic.<br /><br />Beyond the Chariots will appear on April 18 at 7:00 pm, April 19 at 8:00 pm, April 21 at 8:00 pm, April 22 at 2:00 pm, and April 23 at 7:00 pm.<br /><br />The Man from Aldersgate will appear on April 17 at 8:00 pm, April 19 at 2:00 pm, April 20 at 8:00 pm, April 21 at 2:00 pm, and April 22 at 8:00 pm.<br /><br />For more information on these productions or to order advance tickets, visit www.FireOffBroadway.com. Order by March 17 and save 20%. Seniors and students save 25%. Group discounts are available also.Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-1141856304592495072006-03-08T17:18:00.000-05:002006-03-08T19:18:30.493-05:00The Miracle of the Hearing AidMy mother wears hearing aids to assist her with a profound hearing loss which was caused by a case of adult mumps. I don’t know whether she had the mumps when my brother and I had them, or how she, second to last child of ten, could have escaped them at an earlier time of her life. I do know that my brother’s nickname for her was ‘Mumpy,’ an affectionate term which may have had nothing whatever to do with her having had the mumps. I do know that her case of mumps was so severe that she was swollen from head to chest. On her diminutive and elegant frame, the mumps must have been a horrific sight.<br/><br/>The hearing aids, which she has worn almost as long as she has worn glasses for reading, have been a source of blessing and irritation to her from the beginning. Fortunately the age of miniaturization was well advanced and she was spared the indignity of trailing wires and large battery packets. The aids have always tucked conveniently into her ears, well hidden by beautifully dressed hair. The necessity of changing the aids from time to time as technology improved has been a trial. I suppose that one gets used to an aid, the feel of it, the size and weight of it. Over time any given aid must become just a body part, without which one feels vaguely incomplete. Adjusting to tinier and tinier and more and more efficient aids has been, in recent years, quite confusing and complicated. <br/><br/>This is why I am trying to see that her present aids work for the rest of her life. She really couldn’t adjust to new ones. I take the aids in for servicing by turn. They were manufactured by a wonderful firm which will keep rebuilding them and providing warranty on new parts as long as they are needed. <br/><br/>The hearing aids are seldom in my mother’s ears. They migrate from pill cup to paper tissue. They rattle about with her fine watch in a drawer. I panicked to find one under the bed. It had been stepped on and needed a major repair. “Cheap at half the cost,” as my father would have said somewhat enigmatically. I was so grateful to have been able to have it repaired. <br/><br/>Recently I needed to take an aid in for cleaning. My mother announced: “I DON’T THINK I REALLY NEED HEARING AIDS ANY MORE. I CAN HEAR JUST AS WELL WITH THEM AS WITHOUT THEM.” <br/><br/>This was reminiscent of the time, almost five years earlier, when she had declared that she didn’t think she really needed her glasses. “I see just as well with them as without them.” Quite possibly she does. From time to time she discovers the glasses in her bedside table and wonders who they belong to.<br/><br/>“They are yours, mom,” I say. She tries them on wonderingly and offers, “I should try to wear these more often.” She doesn’t wear them.<br/><br/>So it was with considerable concern that I heard her shouted declaration. Her aids are a last post of communication. Conversations are repetitive, confusing and difficult as it is. Without the hearing aids, we would be lost. I took the offending aid away.<br/><br/>This morning Rob and I took it back. It was a very good day. My mother received the aid like a long lost friend, and tucked it instinctively into the appropriate ear. I retrieved her other aid from the drawer and she fitted it in place. “I’ll be glad to get my other aid back,” she said. That statement gave us pause. “Mother, it’s in your left ear right now!” I could hear a rumble of hilarity issuing from Rob. I laughed, unable to prevent myself. <br/><br/>And here is the miracle, a moment of sharing the divine absurd. My mother felt the truth of my words in the instant and joined me in laughing. We roared on. She giggled, touching her ear and her mouth and throwing back her head. Tears of laughter rolled happily out of the corners of her eyes. “Imagine that. Imagine that,” she gasped. We laughed on, stretching out the moment. <br/><br/>Alzheimer’s dementia can be a sad disease. A lengthy dying. It is almost as confusing and difficult for family members as it is for the one whose self is disappearing by degrees. This morning we crossed an undeclared boundary. It was permissible to laugh at the unthinkable. It was permissible to look mortality and frailty in the face and howl with humour. <br/><br/>“This will make a good memory,” my mother said, and that set us off again. I could see she didn’t quite get this one, but it didn’t matter. She chuckled anyway. For a few minutes we shared emotion, were companionable and whole. That is today’s miracle and it is more than enough. <br/><br/> <br/>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-1141499830944294472006-03-04T14:17:00.000-05:002006-03-04T21:33:14.400-05:00Attachment to GodYou know that book I am not going to write? All rights reserved. And if this sounds like an impossibly boring start, please let me know. Please. It is a spiritual autobiography, with poems, stories, insights and so on. <br /> <br /><br />My memories go back before I was two years old, and I do not remember a time when I did not know the word ‘God.’ I believe I learned this name simply as I learned the words Mama and Dada, while my mother prayed. <br /><br />Prayer was a constant part of our daily life as a family. We prayed at meals, before setting out on the daily round, at dinner-time devotions and before bed. Prayer was the rhythm of our lives. Perhaps this is why I, to the chapel born, am nonetheless attracted to liturgy and the prayers of the daily office. The rhythm of prayer. <br /><br />I was the much desired first child of parents who had been childless for a biblical seven years. Before my conception, I was prayed for. My mother’s pain and yearning was evident in pictures taken with her multitude of nieces and nephews. Coming from a large family, she was the only one of ten to struggle with infertility. Thirty years later, I would pray the same prayers and feel the same shame, undiminished since the days of Hannah. It is no different now. While couples may decide to remain childless and take steps to insure this, those who are not childless by choice feel that they have been denied a blessing, the fulfillment of a very human expectation and an inescapable biological urge.<br /><br />My mother had many false intimations of pregnancy during those seven years. Yet, in the January before my birth, she was given an assurance from God. Before she had missed a period, she knew that she was pregnant. She felt this with unswerving conviction, but my father, Zechariah-like, disbelieved. He was not rendered speechless, but believed only when the pregnancy had progressed beyond all doubt. Unlike my mother who had a simple and unquestioning faith, my father's lifelong position was: “I’ll believe it when I see it."<br /> <br />At birth, I was considered to be a child of blessing. In the line of Isaac, Joseph, Samuel and John the Baptist, I was set apart for God. In the second half of the twentieth century, the fact that this particular child of blessing was a girl was tolerated. I wonder, now, about those female children of blessing whose names were excluded from scripture by patriarchy. This was not a thought which troubled many minds at that time.<br /><br />Quite early I intuited that to be an answer to anyone’s prayers exacted a weight of goodness, and one which I might not always be willing to pay. One of my mother’s sisters took one look at me and pronounced, “She’s too good to live.” <br /><br />Beware what you intone over the cradles of infants. They may be listening.<br /><br />What could my aunt have meant? And why would she have uttered these words? Mystery. My life <em>has </em>been a struggle to achieve some rapprochement between being good and actually living . A major breakthrough has come in later life as I have accepted that being good doesn't demand perfection so much as authenticity. This, I have discovered, <em>is </em>living.<br /><br />From the beginning, the burden of sanctity was heavy. No one intended this. Least of all my parents. This legacy was a simple consequence of the context of my birth. When parents take scripture more or less literally, children also believe. The words of scripture were sonorous: "Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you." That was it. The primary, elemental attachment to God. It was inescapable. <br /><br />When, in due course, I was dedicated in the manner of our denomination this primary connectedness was further strengthened. These were the words spoken over me:<br /><br /><br /><em><blockquote><p><em>In the dedication of this child you now declare your willingness for the Lord to take possession of her, and you wish that she shall always and only do His will. You must be willing that she should spend all her life for God, wherever He may choose to send her, and not withhold her at any time from such hardship, suffering, want or sacrifice as true devotion to the service of Christ and The Salvation Army may entail.<br /><br />You must, as far as you can, keep from her all intoxicating drink, tobacco, finery, wealth, hurtful reading, worldly acquaintance, and every influence likely to injure her either in soul or body; you must let her see in you an example of what a faithful Salvation Army Soldier should be, giving all the time, strength, ability and<br />money possible to help on the Salvation War. </em></p><p><em> (Salvation Army Ceremonies, 1947, p. 15)</em></p></blockquote><p></em><br /><br />Be careful what you speak over a sleeping child.<br /><br />So, I was a desired child, loved, cosseted by parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts and older cousins. Beloved. But being a child of blessing did have this dark side. In my family, at least, being a child of blessing meant being a child of self denial. Suffering. Want. Sacrifice.<br /><br />I slept through the dedication service oblivious. My huge extended family witnessed my parents' declaration. They rejoiced that my mother's prayer had been answered. Throughout childhood, I, too, would watch other parents willingly pledge their children to a Christian life defined more by hardship than grace. There was, for me, a tough stoicism about this take on the godly life. The words were not so much in theological error as seriously devoid of joy. Vaguely romantic dreams of dying for the cause of Christ filled my head. Was this how one pleased God? And I was deeply aware that, should God call, my parents would deem it a high honour to see me in God’s service. Was entering ministry the best way to please my parents?<br /><br />How complicated things are when we are young. How inscrutable the ways of God at any time, at any age. That I would eventually come to experience God on my own terms was nearly, though not quite, inevitable. If we can rebel against attachments within the family, then certainly we can reject our Divine attachment. Free will is a given. <br /> <br />This is the context into which I was born. In these circumstances, it is not surprising that I had a highly developed sense of right and wrong and a tender conscience. Nor is it surprising that I would have a personal encounter with God at a very young age. My mother recorded in her diary for October 5, 1953, "Connie gave her heart to the Lord." I was six years and one day old. But I knew, even as she wrote, that what I had experienced could not be encompassed by these traditional words. These were her words, her understanding, her interpretation of my experience. <br /><br />What I experienced was other. Bright Light of Knowing. Radiant Comfort. Divine Presence. Eternal Truth. Transcendent Compassion. Oneness. From the other side of my life, it seems not so much that I gave my heart to the Lord, but that the Lord gave his heart to me. From this awareness, neither my failures and doubts, nor the cynicism of a liberal arts education have ever been able to shake me.Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9044218.post-1141019305256573252006-02-27T00:36:00.000-05:002006-02-27T01:37:35.836-05:00Thank You, Jesus<strong><em>Bobbie, Georgia, Erin, Daisymarie, Barbara, Deb and Jennifer and silent others</em></strong><br /><strong><em></em></strong><br />You have been Christ to me,<br />anointed my head,<br />been daughters of consolation.<br /><br />Clouds lifted with your prayers.<br /><br />I felt you,<br />there in the room,<br />coaching me<br />to be fearless,<br />relax into story.<br /><br />Did you know I would laugh a lot?<br /><br />The women stayed with me,<br />even though I had material for three talks.<br />A series.<br />A women's retreat seminar.<br />Didn't cover half of it.<br /><br />Jesus showed up.<br />And I was glad.<br /><br />C.K.<br /><br />This is how I started, just so you'll know how it went:<br /><br /><div align="justify"><strong>Legacy of Love:<br />Lessons in Laughter, Longing and Letting Go<br /></strong><br />I had a car accident this week. Again. I’ve had four or more such accidents (not all in recent memory). All in horrific weather. All when I was distracted by too many demands. No one gets hurt in these accidents, mercifully. But I’m thinking about giving up my licence. It is just too much. This week’s incident plunged me into a little spiral of depression...that is a genetic legacy in my family. I’ve worked hard to fight against my genes. I take my medicine. I’ve been in therapy...all creditable therapists have been in therapy. But when something negative happens, the pull to sink down under adversity is strong. That is my genetic make-up.<br /><br />Fortunately, I have an emotional and spiritual legacy from my family of origin. The legacy of laughter. My grandmother was a great laugher. And my father. And eventually, perhaps even as I talk to you tonight, I will see something funny in what happened this week. </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Indeed, there was...something funny. When I got out of my car, the woman who hit me apologized. We fell into one another’s arms for mutual support and I kissed her, twice, saying everything was fine. This, dear friends, is part of the legacy of gender. <strong>Men</strong> would never do this!!!<br /><br />And so on.</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div>Constancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232289847990430112noreply@blogger.com6