Happy Mother's Day

I have two mothers in my life. One mother gave me life and raised me - the other mother I married before she was a mother. The funny thing is that I have known my mother only about a year longer than I have known my wife. (I know - that's taking "childhood sweetheart" to a whole new level.)

My mother, Dolly Dorey, is probably the greatest example of selfless love that I have ever known. She worked very hard to raise five boys and a girl. Her days often started well before ours and often didn't end until well after we were all sound asleep. There were times when the money didn't go far enough and the extras weren't plentiful but there were always healthy, wholesome meals on our table, clean clothes in our closests and a sense of well-being in our home.

Mom very seldom just sat and did nothing. Occasionally she would watch a TV show with us or participate in a game of Scrabble. Sometimes she would escape to another world through a good book but usually she had housework that needed to be done. Her love for us was demonstrated through the care that she gave to our needs.

I discovered that the place to get my mom's attention was in the kitchen. That was her "office" and much wisdom and nurturing was dispensed at the kitchen table while I ate the cookies that she was baking.

Mom was also a major spiritual influence in our home. She instructed, encouraged and even guilted us toward God. Her life has always been a testimony to the love she has for Christ. She desires for her own children the same relationship she has with her heavenly Father.

It is interesting to me that the characteristics that I admire in my mother are also the traits that I see in my wife, Ruth. Her selfless attitude for our family often plays itself out in the same way as it did in my childhood home. My invitation to sit down and relax is greeted by that phrase repeated by mothers worldwide, "The works not going to get done by itself, now is it."

Our son Shane has learned that when it is a sympathetic ear he needs - he goes to mom. I'll usually tell him to "suck-it-up" or "shake-it off" while Ruth will tell him "I understand - I'm sorry that you're hurting". But in offering the listening ear, I have observed that Ruth also has the opportunities to speak spiritual truth into Shane's life that I sometimes miss.

So, on this Mother's Day I am thankful for the two mothers that God has placed in my life. Both are unique but in some respects they are quite similar. I love you both very much!

"Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all." Proverbs 31:28,29

Celebrating Life

A couple of weeks ago a friend of our family passed away. My dad sent a brief email telling us that Alvin Sangster had not regained consciousness after suffering a stroke a few days earlier. My immediate thought was, that's not possible, Alvin is about the same age  as my dad! 

Dad's email gave the brief particulars of the funeral and also let us know that he and Mom were going to make the five hour trip to be present to pay their condolences to the family. In person, my dad can talk the leg off a horse but he's not very verbose in his electronic communication. He had written enough to let us know the basics but there was something that unsettled me about his note. For the next several days, I found myself thinking about these friends so far away and whom I had seen so seldom of late.

I found my mind going to my childhood memories of visiting the Sangsters in their home on the eastern shore of Nova Scotia. I had loved the energy and vigor of this family.  Two of Alvin and Hilda's five children where just a bit older than I, their middle daughter the same age as me and then their younger two the same age as my younger siblings. Our families always enjoyed being together whenever an occasion would present itself. 

The Sangsters were fishermen. Alvin, his brother Terry, and their father Victor spent their lives on the sea and there seemed to be a certain "old world" ruggedness about how they lived their lives. Although their boats were very modern and decked out with all the latest gear, to me there was always a sense of adventure and mystique about the life of one that lives that close to nature and the elements.

The morning of Alvin's funeral I went online to read his obituary. It always surprises me how someone's life can be reduced to two or three inches in a newspaper column. As I scanned the list of possible internet links, I saw several that lead to videos posted on "youtube".  I clicked and discovered that Alvin's 70th birthday party had been recorded and posted online for those family members who were not able to attend. 

It was just as if I were reliving my childhood as I saw the images and heard the voices of old friends. Although uninvited, I was able to share in the celebration in that little house in Port Bickerton on the windswept coast of the Atlantic ocean. Better than the most well-crafted obituary were the expressions of love, the laughter and the tributes of family and friends. Even the guest of honor took a moment to thank those who had come and commented that he had waited 70 years to have a surprise birthday party in his honor.

In those moments as I watched the video account of his birthday party, it occurred to me that Alvin's family was gathering for his funeral with very few regrets. This was a family that had loved their dad out loud! They had celebrated him enthusiastically just a few months earlier. I'm sure their grief is deep and the pain of separation will be felt for a long time - but the memories of a life well lived will be a balm that will soothe and heal the pain.

And so from my musings and reflections of the past few weeks come a couple of challenges. First, that when I attend the funeral of those I hold dear I want to be able to come having celebrated and honored them while they were alive. And secondly, to live my life in such a way that when I am gone those whom I loved and who loved me will be able to come to my funeral with no regrets. I'm not planning to check out of this life anytime soon - nor am I planning to sit in the mourner's bench in the near future - but I am thinking about the parties that need to be planned and those that need to be celebrated. 

Being the Church in a Snow Storm

This weekend we had to cancel our worship services. The storm of the season wiped us out. The snow started to fall Friday afternoon and continued - non-stop - for about thirty hours. By the time it was all done we had between 18 and 30 inches, depending on where in the area you live. 

The call came early Saturday evening. There was no way that the school board could have the facility that we rent ready for our Sunday morning activities. There was really nothing more for us to do than communicate with our congregation and let them know that we were not going to meet for worship in the morning.

I was a little disappointed. The band had braved the snow earlier that day to rehearse and prepare. I knew that Les, our senior pastor, was ready to bring a message from God's word and all the volunteers were primed and ready to be there early to put it all together. It was going to be a great Sunday.

Sunday morning I woke to a beautiful blue sky. I shuffled to the loft and turned on the television. None of the TV preachers could hold my attention. What I really wanted was to be with my friends and church family.

Ruth was soon out of bed and had begun breakfast preparations. While she worked in the kitchen I opened the garage door to survey the work before me. There in my driveway was a man with a snowblower making a path in from the street. I assured him that I had it under control. I explained that since my neighbor Rob was sick this winter Ruth and I had offered to keep their driveway and walk open for them. Rob reciprocated by offering me his gigantic, 10.5 horsepower snowblower. The man in my driveway shrugged and answered, “Oh, I've already cleaned Rob's driveway.” With that he turned and started across the street to another neighbor, a single Mom with two kids.

I quickly got at my own driveway and after breakfast headed out to help rid my corner of the world from the snow that held us all prisoner. My first stop was an elderly friend on our street who was completely socked in. I had only worked for a few minutes before Dave Hill, one of our church friends and a member of our small group joined me and together we got the job done. I headed down the street to rescue another friend whose husband was out of town on business and Dave headed to another neighbor who was having trouble with their snow blower. I discovered that Ruth had been shoveling walkways and was moving from one neighbor in need to another.

By about noon I was tired out, my feet were wet, my ams and shoulders were sore and my hands seemed to have taken on a permanent claw-like shape - but I was happy. Happy that I had the opportunity to be the hands and feet of Jesus to a few people in my neighborhood. Do they know that what I did for them I did in the name of Jesus? Probably not – but that is not the point. The point is that the church is to serve. Service is part of our discipleship. Jesus said, “The Son of Man (referring to himself) did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Matt. 20:28) If we want to be like Jesus we have to learn to serve. If we want the church to be all that Jesus intended it to be than the church (us – you and me) need to learn to serve. So, God sent a snow storm my way this weekend to remind me that it was more important to be the church than to “have church”. 

It's only Monday, but I'm looking forward to next Sunday. I'm planning to be worshiping God with my brothers and sisters (the church assembled) unless he has another idea about what I need to be doing.