27 April, 2013


This morning I finished reading ‘Bridge Called Hope’. Yes, it is the second time I’ve read it, but it is so good, and I know I will read more than twice. Here are a few paragraphs from the epilogue that I thought were really good. J

“One of my favourite accounts in the Bible occurs when Jesus was about to feed five thousand people. Jesus, already knowing what He was planning to do, gave His disciples an opportunity to bless all those present by giving ‘hope’ in a unique form – food.

Although the disciples had a treasurer among them who had a small amount of money, when they saw the enormity of the task – the feeding of thousands – they shrank back, completely overwhelmed. Knowing that they did not have enough resources to accomplish the task at hand, they immediately conceded defeat.
Instead of giving something…something… they chose instead to give nothing at all…

…Thankfully, the story does not end there. Somewhere, lost within the hungry multitude, a little boy held up his hand. A kid came from the back and gave the disciples his lunch – five little loaves of bread and two fish. In the face of the famished masses, it wasn’t very much. But it was everything he had…and he gave it all.

Jesus took the little boy’s gift, prayed over it, and began to pass it out to everyone. Each man would break off a large enough portion of the bread and fish to feed his family and then pass it on. Everyone ate – everyone- until they were completely full. When the leftovers were gathered, there was enough to fill twelve huge baskets!

In my simple way of thinking, the whole point of the story is that if we offer nothing to God…that is exactly what we can expect to happen. But if we give something – even a little thing – God can take whatever we’ve offered and turn it into something amazing. It is not up to me to decide how the Lord will use my gifts… it is only up to me to give them. Jesus is the One who makes the meager work of my hands into something remarkable, something effective, perhaps even life-changing.”                                                                  Taken from ‘Bridge Called Hope’ by Kim Meeder pages 239-240          
 This reminds me of the story about the widow who gave to the temple treasury all that she had. Even though it was only two mites, nothing compared to the amount the rich men and Pharisees gave, it was all she had. A gift isn’t measured by the amount given, but the amount left. 
“And he looked up, and saw the rich men casting their gifts into the treasury. And he saw also a certain poor widow casting in thither two mites. And he said, Of a truth I say unto you, that this poor widow hath cast in more than they all: For all these have of their abundance cast in unto the offerings of God: but she of her penury hath cast in all the living that she had.” Luke 21:1-4

How much will you choose to give Jesus today?

23 April, 2013

No Place like Home

'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, 
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home!
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.' 
                                                                               - John Howard Payne

We have just been away for almost four weeks, and while holidays are great, and catching up with friends is great, there is no place like home.

                        Home to...
...clear blue skies...

  ...clouds and trees...

                ...my beautiful pet sheepies...this is Harry... 

 ...and this is Harry again...isn't he cheeky?

              ...my sister's pet sheep...named Obadiah...

                ...my brother's pet sheep...named Hosea...

                                                                     ...another of my pet sheepies...named Jumbo...

                                                                                       ...back to autumn leaves....

                                                                  ...and pumpkins ready to pick and eat.

'God gave all men all earth to love,
But since our hearts are small,
Ordained for each one spot should prove,
Beloved over all.'
                                        -Rudyard Kipling

More Value than Many Sparrows

I am alone in the kitchen wiping dishes. It is all quiet and still, except for the noise of me picking up and setting down the dishes. I look out the window. Right in my line of vision is a water tank. Its top is shaped in such a way that it will hold a little pool of water. Some gray birds, with yellow beaks and beady eyes, are having a great time playing in the water. I can see them standing around the edge. All of a sudden they jump in, and all I can see is water splashing everywhere. Then they reappear and shake themselves dry. They do it again and again. Some of the more adventurous birds hop onto a branch of the partially overhanging bush and dive in, headfirst. More splashes. More birds shaking themselves dry.

In the bush behind the tank I can see some parrots. They are eating the yellow flowers on the bush. Their bright green, yellow, and red feathers stand out amidst the dull green bushes around them. I watch as they walk along a branch, which bends with their weight. Then they bend over and nibble at the flower. Suddenly they fly away, screeching all the while. I wonder why they make so much noise. Surely if they don’t want something to get close to them making noise is not a good way to keep hidden. Then it occurs to me that that is their way of warning anyone who will listen that there is danger.

Just observing these little spenders of God’s creation, so well coloured, so unique, so interesting, reminds me of a song:

I see the sunrise, reflecting off the dew,
The tiny prisms, sing out a song of You,
I see the river, a washing up with spray,
All nature worships, the One who made the day.

So here’s my song to thee, O God of majesty,
Though I can’t even sing, like a lowly sparrow,
My trembling voice I raise, I want to join the praise,
I lift my joyful soul, the one that You made whole.

The crash of thunder, resounds across the hills,
An awe of you Lord, within my heart instills,
The vibrant meadow, aglow in violet bloom,
May I reflect them, whose simple theme is You.

So here’s my song to thee, O God of majesty,
Though I can’t even sing, like a lowly sparrow,
My trembling voice I raise, I want to join the praise,
I lift my joyful soul, the one that You made whole.

Just simple harp strings, brought forth a melody,
The little shepherd, he sang his song to Thee,
No symphony to sing, just a song on silver wing,
O Lord, how lovely, the humble song to thee.

So here’s my song to thee, O God of majesty,
Though I can’t even sing, like a lowly sparrow,
My trembling voice I raise, I want to join the praise,
I lift my joyful soul, the one that You made whole.
                                                                                                       -Machela Toews

If God put so much thought into creating these winged wonders, with their shapes and sizes, their interesting habits. If He knows all about them, and cares about them, so much so that he knows when even one of the tiniest ‘worthlessest’ birds fall to the ground, how much more is He going to care for, to look after, to love, you and me, human beings, who are made in his own image?

Luke  12:6,7   Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God? But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.