daily life as life goes on . . .

OK, I’m not quite a Quaker – but my ancestry reveals that direction.

Here is the story I was told by my aunt on Saturday:

In the war of 1812, a number of Americans were asked/conscripted into the army.  They had to fight their Canadian neighbours – kill them if necessary.

My relatives objected to such an approach.  They were pacifists.  By label they were “Quakers”.  So they emigrated to Canada.  A nice way to say they were basically pushed out of their country because of religious beliefs.  Canadians labelled them United Empire Loyalists (although technically there is some question as to whether that label would apply in this case). 

Now, that is interesting enough.  The real thing for me, though, is that for my lifetime I have always thought that my mother’s side was made up of staunch Anglicans – ever loyal to the throne, country and King/Queen.

My father’s side are Anabaptists – they ended up running all over the world to avoid persecution.  And now my mother’s side?  Quakers were not exactly the most loved religious sect. 

Both sides come from a heart perspective on religion.  For this heritage I am thankful.  Of course, the flip side of that coin is that they were rebels in the midst of the world in which they lived in (a little Beatles reference there).

And so, I guess I come by my stubborn streak and a bit of a rebellious attitude naturally!

I have appreciated over the years my friend, Randall Friesen’s, meditations that populate his blog and other writings.  The flowing words and concise thoughts just arouse worship.

And so, this Sunday morning, here are some of my thoughts:

God, you have been the harvester of souls – constant in love and compassion, willing to forgive and to restore the years that have seen waste and needless want.

You have sown in our hearts the desire for more – more sense of you, more presence in this creation, and more love for others.  These urges cause us to seek greater heights.  You water those desires, provide the nutrients for growth and fill in the fruit of a life lived in harmony with you.

This is the day that you have made – we can examine the moments and contemplate eternity.  Joy spills from the trickles of momentary miracles and the enormity of abundant salvation you provide.

I awaken to this Sunday, reminded that you rested from your creative work and just enjoyed the day.  I wonder that you watch me today, and crave for me to experience your rest. 

May I live life to the full this day – resting in you.

Today is a work  (fix the church, refurbish the building) day at our church.  Men tend to appear.

I am not one to take the lead in construction.  I will put on gloves and tote and lift.  Although I love the result of well done construction, the expertise of construction is not in my court!  

I enjoy organizing a big project.  I love to dream what things will look like and dream them into existence.  I like to bring people together to become friends and neighbours.

In the last few decades men have been told they are wild at heart.  Somewhere inside we are told we would rather be out rescuing the damsel, building homes, playing sports and conquering the world.  All with our hands and our brawn.

Not everybody agrees.  In my own travels I have seen many sensitive men who love working on computers and conquering the space of the home.  I have seen dreamers whose dreams are about the world in general and not the dirt in particular.

Work days for them are network times, times to be with others on a project that they will help finish, but which does not require them to conquer anything.  It’s just plain fun. 

So, let’s break stereotypes!  When you see a group of guys together swinging hammers and singing “yo-ho” songs, don’t look at them as just another bunch of “manly men”, sweaty and full of brawn and not much brains.  Consider that each one is their own man!

Not everyone is as blessed as I am!

I say that with all sincerity.  One of my mothers chose me.  The other two I chose!  And let no one say that when you got married, you didn’t choose your mothers-in-law.

Yes, you did!

The mother who chose me from birth is currently in the last breaths of her days.  She is the one who compassionately instructed me in God, grace and giving.  I love to find ways to serve others, because she was always a servant.

My first wife’s mother chose to live with a man who was godly – whose family background was messy but whose heart was pure.  She exhibits tenacious love for each of her children – yet with allowance for each of their giftings.  I am blessed that she has kept me in her thoughts and prayers for the many years I have known her. 

My second wife’s mother, from her earliest days chose to exhibit strength.  She was a career woman with a gifted husband, raising five unique children.  I walked into a family where my brothers and sisters include a community figure (though now dead, she still affects a wide circle), a lawyer, an accountant, a churchwoman/mother/community organizer, and a professional painter.  Those who are married brought with them a doctor, a successful business man, a retreat center organizer (besides being a marvelous cook, church secretary, and hostess) and a pastor.  She has let me be me, while not feeling shy about giving well meaning advice.

Now you know the rest of the story.  There is a reason I feel so blessed this morning as I reflect on each of my mothers.

BTW:  I am just starting to extol their virtues.  If you have a few hours, I’d be glad to sit down with you and regale you with the fortune I have found in my mothers.