Small Mercies, Large Mercies


I was on my way to a delightful church function yesterday morning at 10:00 a.m. While making a left turn on a green light, a large vehicle (I drive a small car) ran a red light and slammed into my driver side.  After the dust had settled I was amazed when a policeman told me my car would be taken to a pound as a write-off while I walked away, (or crawled away as I couldn’t exit the driver’s side) with a painful right wrist.

A visit to a nearby hospital emergency, insisted upon by paramedics, confirmed that the wrist was not broken and would likely be painful for a couple of days. After reassuring everyone that I suffered no other pain, and had not so much as a scratch on me, I came home to ponder the events of the day. I took some extra strength Tylenol and prayed my way into a much needed nap.

How often do we go about our days taking everything for granted, not knowing one minute what the next minute holds.

For the rest of my life I will not forget to thank God for small mercies…although I do believe this was a very large mercy. TYG!

For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; Psalm 91:11

 

 


    

 

 

 

 

 

Sharing the Grief


Last Friday night on the outskirts of Humboldt, Saskatchewan, a horrific bus crash changed the lives of this community and surrounding areas forever.

Toronto’s Globe and Mail reported fifteen people, including 10 players between the ages of 16 and 21, were killed when a semi-trailer crashed into the Broncos’ bus late on Friday afternoon. As of Monday, 12 people remained in hospital: four in critical condition, four serious and four stable, according to Saskatchewan’s health authority.

There has been an outpouring of grief and support from around the world and I among many shed copious tears for the lives lost, those spared who will face ongoing traumatic healing, and those left behind to grieve the loss of their precious loved ones.

There are those who ask where God is at times like these.

The answer is He is with every single person whose life is touched by this tragic event.

The answer is He shares our grief.

The answer lies in John’s gospel, chapter eleven, verse thirty-five…Jesus wept.

 

The Double Rainbow


My best friend and her sister had never lived apart in their lives except for a brief period when one of them was first married. Their lives were intertwined through childhood, early adulthood, middle years and elder age.

Tanya died first in 2008 after a battle with lung cancer. She was seventy-one years old, and her passing had left her sister alone for the first time in her life.

In 2014 Virginia, in her seventy-fifth year, succumbed to life-threatening injuries after being struck by a bus one sunny September morning.

The “ladies”, as they were lovingly referred to by family and friends, were together once again as the urns containing their ashes sat side by side in the final home they had shared, awaiting an appropriate burial location to be mutually decided upon by the family.

It seems that whenever a rainbow was sighted after the ladies had left earth, it was a promising reminder that they were united again, because the rainbow is a sign of promise.

Their memorial was held just last week and they were interred together in their final resting place. It drizzled rain during the committal but when it was time to honor their lives with celebration, a beautiful double rainbow appeared in the heavens over the site.

What a wonderful sign of promise that my best friend and her sister will never be apart again.

 

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The Blimp, the Boil, and Mr. Beckett’s House


In this chapter I was three years old when a ceiling collapsed in our home. Here is today’s excerpt.

Chapter Six – The Blimp, The Boil, and Mr. Becket’s House

A thundering crash scared us awake one morning. I scrambled over the bars of my crib, and hit the floor running for the stairs as fast as my three year old legs could carry me. Mom grabbed my sister out of her crib, and Dad followed with a loud shout to be careful.
I was halfway down the stairs, and peered wide-eyed over the banister. The air was thick with dust, and smelled like chalk. Huge chunks of plaster covered the floor and furniture. I couldn’t see our kitten, Snuff, anywhere, and was terrified that she was lying dead under the debris. When her dusty, white, head appeared from behind the sofa, I forgot the danger, and ran to rescue her. We carefully picked our way through the mess to the safety of outdoors. I remember being in awe that a ceiling had actually fallen down. How could that happen?

The rest of the chapter describes some other experiences in that year of my life. Tomorrow, “Nobody Argues with Grandma.”