Laughter in the Dell was Good Medicine

I was brought up in a home with constant, or at the very least many, moments of spontaneous comic relief. Some of the moments will always remain as private moments, but nevertheless there were so many times when we all just burst out laughing, when everyone got together and just had fun. We didn’t need any chemical aids, no malicious prompting or control issues to bring it out… it just happened.

In our backyard, my Mom created, with the help of a compliant and co-operative father, a beautiful little retreat Mom called “the Dell”. Over the period of one spring, they created a place that for over a decade rang with the music, laughter, jokes and all the festive joys of family being gathered. One of our neighbours once told me that they always knew when those Allens were having a get-together, as the neighbourhood rang with laughter and music. It didn’t take much to make us all happy. Even while getting together as just the immediate family, we would go down to the Dell equipped with food, pots, pans and utensils and have a feast of family moments and made such fond memories.

My Dad and Mom even made a structure, a base really, for our 9 x 12, tall sided tent. They put in cots and my brother and I would stay most of the summer there when the weather allowed it. It was a place that welcomed us, taught us character, housed our burgeoning dreams and added an element of adventure to our lives that, for me anyway, lit an ongoing desire to both escape and go on greater adventures in life.
The Dell rang with stories of childhood, from all the various family situations and locations. I met a previously unknown Uncle and learned how his life was so different from ours. There were stories of hardship as my Mom’s family was broken up after her parents got Tuberculosis and soon after had died. Stories of hunting, fishing, being on the move or staying in one place for a whole lifetime, lent credence to the idea that home was important, but so also was the experiencing new challenges elsewhere. My Dad was not much of a story teller back then, in the sense of family history per se. He perhaps shared some, but was more often the quiet listener, unless to correct some over stated rendition of his growing up in the family.

Shelburne Community Theatre Group

Dad did have an artistic side though, that he liked to hide. But, when the time was right and without a great deal of prompting he could cut loose with a multitude of pieces of prose or a monologue, that he had heard somewhere and remembered.  Here is one that I do not know the history or source of, and yet a part of it remains sharp in my memory. It was part of a phone conversation between two old folks: “Last night der wind came and blew der shutters off de house. No, no I didna say shut-up! Last night der wind came and blew der shutters off de house and I need to call a carpenter. No, no, I didna say der car painter. You know, der one what hits de hammer wit der nail.” The family delighted in his repertoire of memorized verse and often asked him to spin a few off for them when gatherings took place.  I never knew till later in life that Dad was a member of a theatrical group in town, as well as playing in the town band. I think I have written previously about the day that he picked up an old coronet that I had purchased and played “Amazing Grace” all the way through and never missed a note. He was in his late 80’s at the time and he never played it again even when I asked. He was a very private man in many respects.

Most of my aunts and uncles shared so many funny stories; it is hard to remember them all. My uncle Kenneth was one of my favourite story tellers. He could string you along with such a straight face that it was hard to imagine that it could be anything less than the gospel truth. Two of my favourites, I think, were these. He told us of a hunting trip where he was just about killed by a misfire or an accident with his rifle. He delighted in showing the hole in the breast pocket of his denim shirt where the bullet passed through. I along with others surely sucked this tale in and believed every word cause he always said, “That’s the truth boy; that’s how easy it can happen! “ The other was while were out fishing with him one day and seemed totally lost in the fog. He said that he had no idea how he would find his pots, when all along he was carefully watching his time, compass direction and the current, so he knew exactly where he was all along. He would smoothly throttle down, grab a gaff and pull up his next buoy, on which there was hopefully a full pot of lobsters. Dad had explained later on that the hole in his pocket was from the constant wear of his cigarette package and we all had a great laugh, but nevertheless I was let down a bit by having to face a more sanguine truth. After all, sometimes the stories just added that bit of spice to life when you are very young.

Not all childhoods or home life in family is the same. Not everyone around me had the same experience of laughter on the same level as we did. I found as I matured, that some homes were silent refuges of disappointment and others were battlegrounds, where despair reigned daily. As time and opportunity arose, I found that there was a need to expand beyond the safety of home life and explore the lives of those others who may not have been as fortunate as me. I didn’t always find open doors and welcoming smiles and so I began to retreat and found solace in self identity and faith.  As I matured, it didn’t take long to realize that retreat was not an option, and so once again I limped outward and there finally found commonality and strength in fellowship with those of similar interest, faith and practice. Granted in my particular bias I would wish for a purer style of joyfulness in gathering, but mine was not to judge. There have been times when, of no credit to me, I have chosen not to join in, as I felt out of place when chemically induced fun, being over-used overtly, became a challenge for me.

Cultural and principle based differences aside, we love to celebrate and be reminded of the lighter side of life. Today I am much better at toleration, and while not always totally comfortable in all situations; my desire is to allow other so be what they choose as long as no one is hurt. Travel, including mission work, helped make a great difference. In the stories, the laughter and the fellowship of family and friends gatherings are found the essence of support, nurturing (in some respects) and release that only those occasions may allow, regardless of culture or ethnicity.

Someone asked me one day if God had a sense of humor. I have wondered about that down through the years There are all the standard jokes about the platypus, the penguin and of course about me, but when it comes down to it, I think that God is who He is. There needs to be no debate about His wisdom of choice, His knowledge of creation and how it might all end. There has even been some thought of His supposed lack of caring about individuals over an apparent concern for the overall plan, meeting His approval. God creates today, as he created, in an original design toward perfection. Today, most lack a desire to follow or conform to His plan, just like those in Biblical times, both within the Old and New Testaments. If God laughs, I believe it is at our foolish mistakes in life, not at our deliberate defiance of his principles of truth, which has always brought about imperfection.  We share funny stories… Does He... I wonder.

Our best effort in life is in the striving toward those moments of fellowship with family and friends, while sharing the best of the best in life. That may include some of the funniest of moments in family history, but it also should include those moments of recounting when we were in the depths of despair. We need to rehearse how we made it through, because God created family, and they were there with us and for us…. God was in His element; the family which He designed was with us. I give my Mom and Dad so much credit for my being a mostly happy and a somewhat well adjusted individual, but It was truly God’s direction, intercession, and of course their adherence to His desire for all of our lives, that made it happen. Those elements of family should be shared.

Perhaps you may not have experienced many joyous moments in your family life which brought laughter to its peak; maybe not near as many as I experienced. There may be moments though, where you felt great joy in its own right, and precious memories that endure no matter what has taken place. I have found that very thing in my own life. While there have been moments of disappointment, economic hardship and downright sadness in my life as well, during those times I’ve had to step outside of myself. I was never alone there. Most times my wife and children were there, along with friends and extended family. But always there has been God. Satan loves to play havoc with our lives and thoughts, particularly our thoughts. So, in God, I’ve found not only daily peace, but also daily assurance of His presence and grace to get me through. He sends those precious memories of better times and reminds me that He was there in them. He tells me to take my heart to those places where joy was at its height and He has provided pictorial reminders of occasions of the best of moments lived. He provided the finances to enable us to take those pictures by provide the cameras to take them and the albums to keep them in… of that I am confident.

Each day is a reminder of the past, as I age. I look forward to the future, don’t get me wrong. The future, I believe, holds many blessings as well. How I get there is the key! Getting there is not letting go of the past, but celebrating it while leaving room for new memories and new objectives in life. I want to remember my Dad’s prose and stories along with those many others that family shared while fellowshipping and partying through the years. God gives us memory for a reason and laughter for a reason and the blessing in all that is family. The combination of those three elements of life should be important. It may mean taking a walk toward the edge, especially if you may feel challenged by varied disappointments as you approach the past while considering family life. But… It may surprise you what may surface that will bring a smile and even a fit of laughter as you survey the past with openness. Don’t let Satan steal your joy…. Oh… And share a few of the old stories with those you love; you may be surprised first at the reaction of joy it brings and second it may be a revelation to find out who it is that really seems interested in listening.

I pray God will bring back joyful memories to uplift your life. May the Lord richly bless your day... He is surely blessing mine!

Watching the Elephants and Events in Life

I remember some elements in life’s path better than others. I am sure that is the case with most of us, though for some each moment is catalogued and remembered like it was yesterday. Some stages and events in my life are remembered as though looking through a fog; not quite as sharp as other memories might be. Our family, as a number of of you who have been following my ramblings over the past years will know, were churched people. I can remember my Grandfather sitting in Church along with some of the other deacons and those long services at special seasons of the year. There were those “other” services when missionaries came to visit and they brought items of interest including costumes, carvings and sometimes instruments from the lands they had visited. I loved the carvings and the instruments. But my favourites were the elephants. Most were small but I could see the mighty strength and the majesty of the creatures so finely replicated, in the local wood of the country from which they came.

Years later, standing on the edge of the woods in North Eastern India, I got to watch in person many times those majestic animals, that could be both gentle and kind, but also wild and dangerous. Just before a visit one year, a person had been killed by a rogue elephant in a rice paddy near where I was visiting. I learned that life could be harsh when even the most majestic of beasts could show how unpredictable and changeable their mood could become when afraid or cornered in a threatening fashion.

On each trip to India I purchased things to bring home to family. The girls wanted rings and clothing and for the boys I brought elephant carvings. My daughter Christy wanted an Indian Sari which I got for her and she has worn it with joy. My son Benjamin wanted a larger elephant than the one I had given him, so I allowed him to trade up to a larger wedding elephant that I had at home. It was a joy to see them pleased and yet I always wondered if they saw the uniqueness of the gifts as important as well, through the cultural significance of the items themselves.

In my collection I have three special elephants that communicate so much meaning for me about events in life in general. My first purchase was a group of standard elephants. They ranged in size from miniature to a medium size being perhaps 4 inches tall. They epitomized the mindset we might have of that majestic beast, so often seen in pictures or on TV. The next trip I purchased others that were quite special in a cultural sense. I had been invited to a traditional Indian wedding and saw pictures of a wedding elephant. It was beautiful and the young couple riding on it were so filled with joy and hope. Like most young married couples, regardless of what culture they are in, they were prepared to meet whatever they must face with the strength and courage of combined effort, reinforced by mutual love and support. But time changes many things and the struggle for even the simple rural couples of the Indian sub-continent, can become a trial bringing hardship and pain.

My third trip I saw something very special as I shopped in a local emporium in Mumbai (formerly known as Bombay). It was an elephant in the wild. These creatures are much different than domesticated elephants used in industry for logging and carriage pruposes. These elephants battle everyday against the heat, drought and the possible attack by lions and large cats of prey. This particular carving portrays the struggle with a pride of lions; one lion is on the elephants back and another is under the great creature’s foot, being crushed to death. This carving shows a real life or death struggle, and we do not know the outcome; we are only party to the conflict, the horrid truth of life at its worst. I could have left that particular carving there, and I almost did. I kept coming back to it sitting there on the display shelf and I could not let it go from my mind. Today is sits together with two or three others. One is a happy carving that my daughter brought back from Cuba to add to my elephant collection, but it typifies what we see in the images we want to think of when we consider elephants in general. Two others are wedding elephants that remind me that though there are uncertainties in life, we begin with hope and faith, coupled with joy and celebration. That

struggling elephant reminds me daily that life, though cruel, is still life and I like to think, as I look at him in that battle to survive, that he will overcome and that some other elephant comes along and helps in the battle toward victory.

I am glad that I have those carvings where I can see them every day, several times a day in fact. I often stop and pick them up; I want to feel the wood and consider the implications of their representation to everyday life. I want to remember my travels among a people, who though foreign to me culturally, were brothers and sisters in the Lord. I was a mere fringe benefit, someone who came to share the hope of Christ and train others to present the Gospel in depth and meaning, that may elude those who could not afford formal training outside their villages, or whose training was limited to that of rudimentary seminary training at best. I was not a miracle worker or a healer, just an instrument of God’s love come to serve in whatever capacity I could, in what little time I was able to stay in their country with them.

We often, perhaps too often, may feel like that elephant under attack. It does not have to be from some physically present enemy, it may be from within. There doesn’t always have to be someone who has hurt us or let us down; it can also manifests itself in low self-esteem or even in some cases a type of self-abasement for things we have done, or lived through in the past. No matter the cause, life can be hard to face on a daily basis. It is then, as the lions attack at our very soul, that we have to remember that it is Satan’s way of depleting our energy and sapping our joy. God’s word tells us in 1st Peter 5:8 that the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. No matter our past or present situation, we must remember that at the core of our pain it is Satan and his ploys, conceived to destroy or to maim at the very least, that becomes our enemy.

I believe that God gives us certain blessings that we can focus on each day and be reminded that He is still in control. My favourites are as many as they are varied, but I try to be reminded to stop and take in the joy of those moments and elements of blessing when they are needed. It is not easy! I struggle daily with diminishing health, mobility and life’s unfortunate twists and turns like most other people. I have not been given a free pass that says, “Advance to go and collect $2oo like the old Monopoly game said. Life can be hard and then it can get worse, but only if we let it. Fighting back in strength beyond our normal capabilities is the key. I see that in this battle found with my elephant. His determination is built in, his battle is real and so are the possibilities that he may not win, but he fights to win nevertheless… always!

I thank God every day for the promise of His word in Deuteronomy 31:6 that says, “Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, He it is that goes with you; he will not fail you, nor forsake you”. It could be understood that God fights all our battles for us, but that is not the case. Consider the case of David and Goliath. David went forth in faith and though he was laughed at by his family and their army and finally by this giant of a man, the enemy of God and his people; he slung a small stone and killed that giant, not by might, but by courage, in faith believing in what God could accomplish in him. We must trust that God is there in that same way for us today, as we walk amidst our own personal pride of lions or even a mighty giant looking Satan, ready to consume our joy and our lives. God gives both the courage and the victory to overcome in Him, if we are open to His peace and grace. Knowing the enemy is part of the battle, but knowing the King of Kings is more important.

Some will question the validity of belief when evidence shows that many or perhaps even most of our battles are still lost. The world cries out, “it is fate, it realism, it is just a stage and we are merely the characters on it for the sake of some reality being played out as some cruel joke by the gods”! Yet in defining the presence of gods there is an element of question that remains.  Who are these gods and what is important about that being a valid answer? Paul pointed out in Acts 17:16-34 that there were statues to some unknown god and he made it plain that this unknown god was in fact the one whom they were searching for all along… the God of Creation… the Father of all mankind and the Father of the Christ, who he came to serve and proclaim; to those who would have ears to hear and hearts to respond.

Life is all about the ups and downs. Not everyone is always down. God provides those moments of joy and we are riding the wedding elephant or sounding the trumpet of the wild and free elephant. Take some time today, if you are feeling down and exercise your right to some joy. Go to your window and look out. Look through the blandness of a winter day and see the simple truth of what is before you. Life is out there. There may be snowflakes perhaps; there are some here on days of late where I live, but they have a certain beauty to them as they float down. It may be a tree, a bird, a cloud formation in the sky or even a sound that can remind us that there is life being lived and we need to be a part of it, because God had created it for our pleasure and us for His. I am sure he is more pleased when we feel joy than when we feel stress and unrest.

Walk to the edge of yourself today. Consider the world from a new perspective. It might take a real struggle that gets you there, but believe me I can tell you from my own experience that the view from there can change your life for a moment… or a lifetime. May God richly bless your day and in doing so may you know that He cares about you… May you always know I care about you as well. Blessings my dear readers, in Christ our LORD!

My "Granny Pad Rant" or Growing Old with Respect

As people grow older, and their personal needs, along with a desire to stay in their own home increases, there is a dynamic of a two-fold stress that arises. As we look from the outside in, (as those who are mere spectators) we often conclude that the best results that could be attained would be to dislodge our seniors from their homes and move them to a more acceptable situation, where both social and medical help would be more available. This may include more suitable surroundings, where consideration can be given to special needs with health and safety concerns as a basis of justification.

This stress can surface in at least two areas. We often disregard these two factors that arise in the aging process; It is the issues of convenience versus familiarity. There had been in the not so distant past, a tendency for both family and the care-giving sectors, to opt for convenience, as seniors were rushed into nursing homes and extended care facilities. This has changed somewhat, as governments have surveyed the cost of corporate care of elders, finding the growing economic limits of this type of housing to be prohibitively expensive, and so moves were made to aid in  keeping seniors in their homes longer. Now with the limitation on public resources once again being of concern, there seems to be a move now-a-days to promote alternate avenues of care for our aging population, among the private sector; that being the promotion of “Granny Pads” and “tiny home” provision for our seniors. This first area of stress is out of concern for the seniors themselves. Convenience is important to some extent, but as we consider convenience there must be the consideration of respect for the wishes of those who are our aged, what is measured as convenient for our senior family members themselves.

A certain or sure dynamic of stress arises when the only consideration is that of uni-directional convenience. As we evaluate both the environment and personal health of our aging seniors, there are two facets of care that must be considered. In this day and age, as family members are sometimes shipped off to a distant nursing home that may be of some distance away from their family. That sounds harsh… and it is. With the aging populations of North American society there are constant stresses placed on both health and geriatric care facilities. The Canadian dynamic is a bit different in some respects, as there are two levels of care available. The first line and most important to our citizens, is the state operated nursing and extended care facilities which have been our privilege for many decades. The alternate for some, are private facilities which may be a choice for those who can afford this style of exclusive care with extended options for socialization and exercise along with personal health care as a first line supplemental base. How is convenience measured then? Is it the convenience of those facing the decision process for others, or for the convenience of those being processed? What is most important is the convenience for our seniors, not the convenience of the family, or perhaps convenience for the care giving professionals and this fact causes much stress for all concerned. How does one evaluate fairly based upon all the factors involved and then make a decision based on both practicality and prudence?

I remember years ago my parents wishing to have us boys place them in a nursing home when the time came. They clearly, at that time, did not want to become a burden to us. We were both professional men and our lives were busy and complicated in many respects. There was no clear definition of timing or circumstance around which this decision process was to begin. As the years passed, a change took place as their view to the future was totally opposite to their original wishes. My parents now wanted to stay in their own home. My Dad had been instrumental in the providing of senior’s accommodations in our area, and had accomplished having two 2 bedroom apartments placed in the extended care housing facility, that was built during his years as Chair of the Housing Authority. His plan had been that he and Mom would live there, as their need for extended care increased. This was not to happen, as it was not coordinated with my mother’s plan.

My parents finally decided one day that they wanted to stay in their own home. This second dynamic of stress for both them and for us, as their children, was that we realized that there arose this problem of familiarity. How can familiarity be a problem one could ask? Human nature gets used to a certain flow throughout a lifetime. This is both more finely developed and accentuated as we age. Daily processes become a harbour of safety and routine, a fence to help keeping on track those mundane considerations of health and happiness, for seniors it is a familiar environment that lends itself to comfort. There is routine to make sure medications are taken, meals are prepared on time and the regimen of the day, through repetition, is comforting, as well as therapeutic, in most cases. While care must be taken to watch for signs of degeneration of mental capacity, we should not be too quick to identify a bit of momentary confusion with total senility. Consider how many times we have reached for something during the day and wondered what it was that we wanted, even in our young adulthood. There are signs of more deeply seated confusion that can be noted, to help us better evaluate, and it is our responsibility to help those we love by due diligence and research, as we assist and watch. without undue stress for either ourselves or our loved ones.

We often hear people say, “There is no place like home!” and yet a normal reaction for those on the outside quite frequently is to come to the conclusion that something else, in the way of surroundings and environment, would far better serve their loved ones, in their later years. This is not a total misjudgment, if the circumstances warrant it. There does come a time, if personal care is of great concern and the availability of caregivers, to meet the personal needs of our loved ones, is lacking. I will not argue that. I would suggest, and perhaps I may be seen as naive here, that first and foremost we need to continue to do evaluations based on the desire of our aging seniors. I have seen in the past too many evaluations done by professionals, who with well-meant consideration for their clients, made their decision to report a need for relocation based solely on a 45 minute practical and verbal tests, focused on physical response times and acuity of understanding. While these tests or benchmark forms of evaluation have their purpose, there is the problem of false positives or false negative factors that must be considered. To have a stranger come into your home asking questions, and often being perceived as “demanding” responses, to both oral inquiry along with physical capability, can be daunting for seniors. Seniors do not always react well to external stresses created around such evaluations. There may be formulas in the process that allow for client’s (this is the term used by the health care-givers) state of mind, but far too often, it seems like results are calculated only using standard forms, reflecting basically the actual responses given and abilities shown, as time needed for such evaluations is an element of concern within the process itself.

I have been there and I have noted those stressed seniors personally over a 40 year period, working with not only family members but community members, as they faced this overwhelming process. I helped care for both of my parents, hands on, and I know that there are easier ways to both try to help and assure our seniors, who are our family members… yet sometimes alternate methods and foreign environments, are not the best way to go. I realize that not everyone is capable of caring for aging family members. Not everyone is in a situation that allows them to perhaps stop their own lives, to assist an aging parent, or parents, through their final days. But out of respect for our seniors, I pray that this hands-on course of care will not become a “last considered” option, as our society seemingly devalues our seniors in many respects.

 I am writing today in response to an ad found on social media for the proposing and promotion of “Granny Pods” or housing for our family members in the backyards of our homes. In this scenario they are near, but out from under foot. Seniors in this scenario are given the opportunity for personal space and privacy, but are also near enough to be cared for when care is needed. That “when needed” has always bothered me. My sick mother looked after parents and her aging in-laws until their deaths. No one knew how many times she cleaned up the messes made when their body functions failed them, the meals shared, clothes laundered and a hand was held when losses meant tears being shed and company was needed. That was “hands on”, and it was not just a chore to be grudgingly completed, it was a privilege. Years later, there were moments of exhaustion for my brother and I, as we experienced what our parents years before, had taken on as responsibility for their own parent’s care. There were times when embarrassment had to take second place, as the needs of our parents overshadowed any preconceived idea of how things would work themselves out, when the latter years of our parent’s lives came to confront us, and their care was now of prime concern, now to be a privilege and not just a necessity.

This is not meant to be a chastising of those who have made other choices for their own family members or parents. I helped my aunt get a bed in a nursing home because that is what “she” wanted at that point in her life. It was not a matter of outside evaluation and decision process… it was her decision and I was merely the convener within that process. How we perceive our seniors, and how we deal with their needs, should be made solely on their desire first wherever possible, and where that is not possible, great care in acknowledgement of their presence and importance in our lives should be taken, so that perceived alienation does not become a factor of daily life later on, for those we love.

Granny pods…. Well, if that is a consideration on the part of the senior themselves… OK! But, let’s not rush to tuck away our seniors and parents in our backyards too soon… their homes are their castles and as we evaluate the dynamic of familiarity over convenience, we must not leave out that dimension of human need that states that what is familiar to us brings comfort beyond most external supplemental care in life. If I choose to move… and I may very well do so at some point in my later years, then I pray that it may be near some family member who will choose to help care for me, not from guilt, pressure or perhaps only out of a fear for my safety. I pray that it might be with a heart of love that remembers that as a parent, I helped nurture them, as best I could through life, and that they would now do so for me, until I depart in death. That may include at some point, a decision to place me in extended care somewhere, when I am no longer manageable and their personal care for me is no longer tenable… That could be a reality, but one faced with God’s Grace.

That is what living near the edge sometimes comes to. It is not always about exploring new ground or meeting challenges that are all about our skill sets in life; one day it will be our ability to face the unwanted changes that are normal for advancing years, but foreign to us in your youth. We must prepare ourselves to walk near that edge as well. Is there a need to rush things? Perhaps not. But, like anything in life, the more homework we finish on time, and with due diligence, the more prepared we are for the test when it comes. As we walk near the edge in this respect... take time to answer some of the gnawing questions about what you want, versus what may be expected. No need to walk there alone! Walk with God at whatever level you might be in your understanding of His guidance and direction for your life. But remember this... we will all face that reality at some point ... ready or not! Personally, I do not fear what the future holds as I am too busy just celebrating the present, but I do keep in mind and practice the reality of my place before God.

May you be blessed, as you consider some of my odd rant today. Now don't go getting all depressed... I will be taken care of I am sure, even if I don't deserve it! That can be your smile for today!

The Grandmother Clock and the Challenges of Passing Time

My Grandmother Mantle Clock

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, was a most familiar sound in our family home growing up. There was what we called the old "grandmother's clock", that sat on a shelf in our home that was lovingly and methodically wound every day. On the hour it would gong out its reminder of the time and by 12 noon or at midnight, the loud resounding of its voice carried throughout the house a noisy reminder that another cycle of time was about to begin. If it was daylight outside, then it was mealtime, and if nighttime cloaked us in veil of darkness, then it was the beginning of a new day. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock; its rhythm, a steady beat like the beating of our hearts.

Time has a way of just forging on. It has no motivation or need to stop... it just happens. I remember after my grandfather died there was some discussion about whether the old clock would continue to be wound. After all, it was a rather noisy, loud reminder of the hour, and as more modern versions of time pieces began to be used, the loud ticking of that old clock seemed less inviting. A new slender clock, now owned by my brother, had a sweeter voice that chimed out the hours and it had a sleek, smooth, curved look and soon became the main time piece in the home. The old grandmother clock had its place, but its gonging hourly voice sounded, as the chime section of the clock was no longer wound.

Time did not stand still, though the gong on my favourite clock stopped. It ticked on for many years more and surviving a move to another home, still ticked for decades following that. It has a place in my heart, but no honoured place in my home… the ticking has now stopped as well. But time still marches on, while the clock remains in storage for future use soon at out cottage, as a centerpiece, evoking memories for me and perhaps conversation for others. Once we are able to spend more time there, as life settles into a more controlled cycle for us retirees, it will be set on our fireplace mantle and be wound once again... perhaps not the chimes, but the time section for sure.

Advancing years brought many changes. An old friend said just last night, "Who would have thought that a certain item would show up on Facebook, much less on a cell phone?" It seems that each year new innovations, along with advances in technologies, change our lives. Along with those changes come other things less desired, and are often debated as we watch society's mores or accepted standards and customs change, and not always for the better. My Dad used to say that he didn't mind change, but just don't do any of it until after he was dead. That seemed so strangely odd and bordering on the ridiculous 40 years ago, but has a familiar ring to it now, as I hear my inner thoughts evaluating change and wishing that it would slow down, so that we would at least have time to acclimatize to what is here before us now. But time marches on and we have to negotiate our way through the changes, and adapt the best we can in the time allotted.

In the study of human history it was always said that a civilization's existence is very cyclical in nature. The advancement of understanding leads to technology, technology to stability, stability to affluence, affluence to indulgence and indulgence most often to downfall. Great civilizations of the past have fallen, not because of technology, but because they rotted from the inside out. Affluence, indulgence, greed, pride and most of all jealousy paired with moral decay, lead them all to depletion and then defeat. It has its parallel in our lives as we age.

It is perhaps this path leading from understanding to downfall that has created the most fear for us as we begin to age. I know my sons-in-law watch the news daily for changes in the stock market. It is important for them as they are in the commodity business and need to know how both common local and foreign markets are doing and how that will reflect on the sale of their goods worldwide. Each day can bring alarming news and though we panic by nature, we also have to pause and remember that the very fibre of humanity, this cycle of movement and change, is as continuous as the tides of the ocean or the sun's rise and then its setting in the evening... time changes everything.

Just as the twelve gongs of the old grandmother clock on the mantle marked out either the noon day hour or the beginning of an altogether new day , the end of each December marks the passing of the old year, and the beginning of the new. We review the past 12 months and reflect on the good and the bad. We want reminders of all that was fun, exciting and would rather put behind us those that were challenging to the point of exhausting or that lead to disappointment and grief. People spend time making resolutions about how life will change for the better... better dietary choices, better body and mind choices, more time to relax and enjoy friends and family and perhaps for some some lifestyle choices about retirement and travel.

We are a people of plans made, but with purpose often left unidentified. As a child we made plans for the future. Each passing day a new focus took up our interest and we moved from plan to plan, based on the whims of availability and the interests of others. It is often never truly clear when we settled on "the" plan. According to stats over the past decade, people will change jobs more and more in years to come. For instance it was calculated that my generation would average at least 3 job changes in our lifetimes. I am not sure if that included what we do in retirement or not. We can see the fluidity of movement and how both need and interest changes and how we react to both. For some it is a forced change, for others it is a personal decision to seek something fresh and perhaps more challenging or with greater benefit for self and family.

Today the process of New Years resolution making, along with the process of the already guaranteed move towards its failure, will begin. I have never made a new year's resolution. I have decided to make some changes, through the years, when time and situation gave opportunity, but I was never one to strive to suddenly feel that change would take place just because a new year was beginning. Each year, as it begins, has its element of potential for our lives. My concern is for this time to be a reflection, more of a processing of where I went astray or how things may have been approached differently, to make life more loving, memorable or perhaps more tenable for us as a couple, or even as a family unit, distributed about the province.

Change is sometimes necessary, but how do we identify who "we" are and our "purpose" in life; that being function, role or what may become our usefulness to society. I think sometimes about Moses in the Old Testament. He must have wondered many times about his purpose, as he moved from positions of leadership of men to herds of goats and sheep and back to his fellow man again. His struggle in both judgement and paticence, along with a few other human frailties, led him along an uncertain path over a span of a long and tenuous lifetime. Purpose as we see it in Moses, seems to be based on both need and circumstance. It is that way for most of us today? Are we certain of who we are based on what we do daily? After all what we are doing now, here in 2016, may be altogether different in a year’s time. Does that change our identity and is our identity based on purpose?

Another question worth examining as we enter the New Year is, does our identity or purpose need to alway align with society's expectations of us? That may be a more personal question that may take some time and personal wrestling, to find an answer to. In my life I have played in that sandbox and I found little joy and much sadness experienced in exhaustion trying to fit into the world's view of my identity that changed with entoy into the different factes of my work. We can become overwhelmed by the energy it takes to meet the world's expectations and I am finding that I must refocus every day and find my center, my identity, my purpose, based on the needs that I find as I awake and begin to interact with the world that God has given me. Purpose is not as static as it was once thought to be...today, it is a never ending chain of circumstance, environment and availability that cycle along with time and our willingness, or ability, to react in a positive manner. God uses us like he did Moses, perhaps not to lead whole peoples or nations, but to do our part with a resolve to accomplish what can be done, not limited by our skill set, but only by God's amazing grace.

Well... my ramblings will not change the world and likely will not even change your perspective on what New Years means today, tomorrow or years in the future. I have found that even my own children will only occasionally take time to read my "stuff ". When asked if they have done so they most often hesitate and so perhaps maybe even never have, in some cases. People ask if I write to remember or if it is a journal so that my children will have memories recorded for them in years to come, but that was never the case, not really. It may have some importance to them later, but busy lives dictate for them their own focus and we become for our children and grandchildren a reality of necessity more than need at some point in time. Necessity being what becomes their due diligence to family ties. I don't write for anyone in particular, I write because I want to share my thoughts, to scribe some memories that perhaps will touch a life, spur a thought or consideration not pondered before, but mostly just to give peace to my inner being from time to time. Only those who are writers, teachers or who those have had opportunity to create will know how it all works. An artist has to put brush to canvas, a sculpture must mould and shape the medium to create what is held there ready to come forth and a musician must hear the music and be carried by its rhythm to accomplish the depths of its influence.

That is how we are created. Each of us is to be individually important to God's purpose. The key is not so much the importance today to make or propose a resolution, but more importantly in my mind, to find a solution. That solution is most often keyed to what the circumstances of your life are; its flow and ebb, its trials and tribulations and its moments of challenge and lack of continuity of joy. We do our best to mask it all don't we? We diet, exercise, join clubs, travel, work and resolve to be a better "me"! But underlying much of the business and activity is a deep sense of mortality, the speeding of time that has gotten away from us and change that though inevitable, is scary and a constant challenge and bane to our existence. Today perhaps, the solution is something different. Maybe looking first upward and then inward would be more rewarding. I would have said outward, but that can be too exhausting for most of us with the conditions of the world in such an array of unrest and discord.

Start with upward... away from self and consider why we are here in the first place and what it is all about. For some, the precepts of God are not such a challenge… for others, they are mere childhood memories and details of myth and story time. But God is who He is... that will never change no matter the dialogue, debate or scientific argument. Then, looking inward, see if there is a void that has needs, such as unmet joys left behind. Perhaps for you today there is a necessity to just release the past and embrace a less complex design; one based on love of self, as God has made you. But it must be tempered with a love for others, so that together the two loves will shape and form a more acceptable identity of "self", in the image of who you are, not who others would expect you to be. This will be a trip to the edge once again. There may be no need for urgency, but nevertheless we never know. Who we are today and how we prepare for tomorrow is an exercise in preparedness for any daily approach to life.

Are you ready for 2016? I am! I am armed with a confidence that God is with me, His grace is supporting me and no matter the circumstances of the coming year... I will give Him the glory for helping me get up each day, no matter the physical pain of body or just life’s challenges being faced. I have a wife, who is my helpmate, and she is my “sweetheart” who loves me, along with a family that cares... added to that are the friends who pray for me and my family, each day. What more could I ask, I am surrounded with blessings galore. Well there may be one more thing I might request... only this... that people might love one another, putting away all that is folly, and embrace God's design for His creation that peace might reign supreme. May God richly bless you all as 2015 passes into 2016. Stay safe and make the right choices... the wrong ones affect not only you, but those whom you love as well. I continue to pray for you on into 2016!

The Anticlimax of Christmas

Growing up in rural Nova Scotia was never without surprises. I have mentioned various gifts that made a difference in my life as a small child and how they impacted on my life with active memories. These days, as an aging and retired adult, I see things a bit differently than I did, say 50 years ago. Christmas is not so much about what I receive, as it is about the family time together and the joys of sharing, caring and fellowship. Our family now gathers in a group on Christmas day and as much as is possible takes time to share the exchange of gifts, the laughs of interacting with all the grandchildren, along with some catching up on the news.

This year has been much of the same, but for one slight difference. In my time spent puttering after a hard winter, I was able to finish the exterior of that workshop that my wife and I wanted built to house all the machinery that I had collected down through the years. Most of it is not new equipment, yet is workable and there are some newer acquisitions. I did quite a bit of research over the past winter and found a lot of interesting items. I also carried the reminder of those special items that I had to produce, to even the score of who got what, with those newest grandsons, who as yet had not been gifted anything that Grandpa had made by hand. So without too much persuasion, I began in early fall to make plans, collect wood and start models and full sized mock-ups of some of the pieces that were on my mind.

I have discovered that not every plan has the same outcome. I found that after a rather long hiatus away from my woodworking, I had begun to lose confidence in my skill; well maybe more my ability to undertake too large a project, that may have some complexities to overcome. So I started small. I had been thinking about things for gifts for our daughters, along with the requirements noted for those new grandsons awaiting Grandpas handiwork. It seemed to me that cottage life, combined with wood stoves and the rustic atmosphere of off the grid summers, afforded me quite a few avenues of creativity. The questions always arises though, “What would they like and would what I make for them find a viable use at the camp or cottage. It is much easier to have subtle suggestion, than to sit and ponder the likelihood of misjudging the value of my taste, or a whim of curious design, for a planned object. But, then the surprise of an interesting object or two that may carry with them memories of a Dad or Grandpa though the years that follow, can’t be all that bad. So this year that is what I did, I forged ahead. After I did a few practice runs at some easy projects, and tried some of the old skill sets on some scrap wood, I offered my projects up to my wife’s scrutiny…. And they passed.

But the quiet reminder of those specialty requirements and requests began to haunt me. Not having the confidence that I had 20 years ago, to undertake a new project just on a hunch or hand-drawn sketch, I felt that I needed more of a well-planned blueprint to keep me focused. The further I went in my crafting, the more confidence I found, the less I felt that shop drawings were necessary. In my earlier years I had watched a program on one of the TV educational channels, where a skilled carpenter used a story-board for keeping track of projects. It was merely a stick (narrow board) with lines and measurements, denoting the various transitions and placement of the elements being combined in the piece or project. I went with that method and then by trial and error, I soon accomplished what I needed to move from the story-board to the working pieces.

So by this time, you are likely asking if I got all the projects done. Well, surprisingly yes I did, along with some other orders from individuals for specialty projects for Christmas gifts and decorations for their homes. My wife seemed pleased with everything, and after some struggles near the end with fine tuning a couple of the projects at the last minute, we were ready for delivery and the joy of watching the faces of the recipients. Those youngest grandsons loved the box that one of their gifts, that happened to be a purchased piece, came wrapped in. That has been the standard reaction of most children down through the ages… a cardboard box and children… there is the fascination of imagery that suddenly transforms a box into a fortress or hideout.  But boxes come and go. The value of a piece of furniture, or an item with its own worth and versatility, soon out shadows a mere box. Or… perhaps the box is soon discarded by eager parents wanting their child to focus more on what was in the box, rather than the box itself.

The wrappings all finally came off and sum of the work was viewed. Some comments were made and the surprise of having Dad or Grandpa think of such an interesting gift soon changed into chats, laughter and the sharing of common meals together, as we gathered Christmas morning. I had one more surprise left for my boys (my son and two son-in-laws). I had wanted to make this Christmas an especially happy one for the immediate family. After long thought and planning I made 4 rather strange gifts that I felt may have somewhat of a different impact on the atmosphere Christmas day. It gave me concern, but not enough to change my plan. As the family finally all gathered, I told the boys I had something special that I had been working on. So I brought out some small spongy packages and allowed them to open them. Well, there were some odd looks, and a few smiles as speculation took over from curiosity. I had to complete their gifs, I told them, so off I went off to retrieved the second part of the surprise. I then asked them to open the gifts so that the others couldn’t see, but the grandchildren's peeking soon saw what was being opened, and a food fight soon broke out.

Now I know that there may be some who by this time may feel that this was over the edge…. Well, this blog is about living near the edge after all. Here’s the deal. The second part of the gift that each received was a marshmallow crossbow. Yes… you read correctly…. They were marshmallow crossbows. They were made of birch and teak… too exotic you say?… no… they were worth the work and sacrifice for my boys and their wives. So began a food fight that lasted through the day and had adults chasing each other around the house pinging one another and their children with marshmallows, while the feast of eaten ammunition soon made the availability of the miniature marshmallows, that we had supplied as part of their gift, a scarcity. So out came a new supply and after a couple of hours in the second round, a cheer went up from my son and youngest daughter, “This is the best Christmas ever!” I could feel the tears edging to the surface, but I forced them back to protect the joy of the moment.

Can Christmas have an element of anticlimax? Yes it sure can… but not this year… not for me anyway. More than anything I wanted smiles, laughter and fun to be the most important element beyond the true meaning and importance of Christmas, found in our Bible reading and stories. My joy now finds those moments of making and remaking, testing, fine-tuning all worthwhile, even though there were moments of frustration and fear that I may not get the crossbows completed before Christmas. The anxiety over what the parents might think of marshmallows being catapulted around their home melted away with the ring of laughter and sibling playtime, once again being the most important thing for the moment, beyond those gnawing concerns that have haunted us this year.

Ben wants to take his on the fishing boat with him… April wants to take her husband’s to school with her and surprise her boss, the principal, with a marshmallow attack. Of course this means the certainty of one thing. Dad now has to make more marshmallow crossbows for the spouses and the tradition of the great marshmallow fight will be on each year as we gather. Of course that can never be guarenteed to happen yearly. But it was such a joy to hear them say how much fun it generated for them, and how excited they were to think about being able to do it more often. More ammunition has been acquired, but it stilll remains to be seen if there is another “major” outbreak like that of Christmas day, until all the siblings have opportunity to gather together again. Will it matter?… not at all. The important part was the spontaneity that erupted from that first marshmallow fired and the ensuing fun it created .

What brought joy to the moments on your Christmas day? The answers may be as varied as they are many. It might be as simple as silent reflection and peace, or the boisterous jostling of grandchildren’s excitement with each new gift opened, along with the looks of pure joy and pleasure they gave as they hugged you showing their personal gratitude. Christmas has its own journey to the edge. We go there with both expectation and wonder. We go there to seek both solace and assurance. We want only the satisfaction that the work to get us there was worth it. But most of all is the calm personal awareness of a resolve to celebrate anew each year what God gave us as  a celebration event; a reminder of what the greatest gift of all was, and should remain to be, for all mankind.

This morning my daughter snuck down the hall with her husband’s crossbow in hand, to start the day with a burst of laughter and my heart sings with the joy of accomplishing what I set out to do. Ben is shooting his boat buddies and a grandson is likely in stealth mode awaiting the opportunity to turn his Dad’s weapon against him in a sneak attack. The edge for me this Christmas has not been so daunting. It has been a hill of preparation worth climbing, and you may ask if I will go back home with an anticlimactic attitude. No… not this year. For me, it is found in the near parallel sentiment echoed from my son and daughter; “This may have been just about the best Christmas ever!”

I pray that you found as much joy as I did. If not, and this Christmas has been a struggle, I will take time to pray for you. I don’t need to know the details… I am going to pray, and have been doing so daily. I know from past years how much pain there remains for some who cannot find the joy in Christmas that perhaps they once had known.  Lord I pray: Touch the hearts of those who are still searching for that peace that eludes, through the darkness of disappointment and pain, that there may be a lightening of those burdens and knowledge of release. Bring joy to hearts that call upon You O Lord, and the miracle of blessing where belief has its only foundation in evidence shown.  Amen

The Ghosts of Christmas Past

Well, it is hard to believe how the time has flown. It seem just like yesterday that the family gathered around on Christmas Eve and read the story from Luke Chapter 2 about the birth of the Christ Child, Jesus… the reason for the season. … The true meaning of Christmas. I wish I could say that it was a tradition brought forward from my youth and then passed down to our children, and on to their children, but it was not.  I am at least a 3rd generation Christian. My Granddad was a deacon, highly respected I understand, and my father followed him as a deacon, and yet I cannot remember the reading of the Christmas Story in our home with them more than perhaps just a few times, or later after my grandparent’s deaths, with just my parents remaining.

I remember we had our own tree and Grammy and Granddad had one as well… a much smaller version, which I couldn’t understand at the time.  But, now older and much wiser, (Ya.. you all believe that one right?) I can see that it made Christmas, for them, a quieter more personal time together. They would always join us during the day as we ate Christmas dinner together, but they wanted that space, their time to reflect I believe, on their greater circle of family and friends… a very meaningful time for them.

Granddad always said grace. It was special to us who gathered around that table. It was not long, it was to the point, but meaningful. As we say in our family today, and I have heard a great many times, “Keep it short the food is getting cold Dad”. I was glad when I stopped being the token Pastor at gatherings and was finally just Dad or Edwin in those extended social gatherings. It is hard to imagine the joy I felt when my oldest daughter finally one day chimed in with the words, “Ok everybody I am going to ask the blessing… so QUIET!” Nowadays, during the more intimate gatherings ,our grandchildren take turns asking the blessing for the food and it is amazing how they will add further concerns or blessings to the grace. Perhaps some of the faith of the fathers and mothers has had a positive influence, now deeply engrained in them, I pray.

We’ve all gotten some level of  special Christmas gifts I am sure. Do you recount some special thing that you had hoped for and then received through your youth? One or two things have been highlights that are first on my list of memories from Christmas past. We wanted a wagon. Back then a wagon meant many things. It was a mode of transport when we were towed around by parents who found it hard to be carrying two boys while on walks. It was also a vehicle to coast down the hills on wild rides, and sometimes landing upside down in briar patches or in the brook at the bottom of the path leading to the road, until we were big enough to gain better control. But it meant work too… a load of wood piled too high so we might make fewer trips between the wood pile and the house when it was time to fill the wood box.

My adventurous spirit cried out for a sword. A fish vendor came by every week. A great friend of the family and to me, as it turned out. He gave me smoked haddock on the sly, to eat raw, when he came, and I am positive he never charged Mom for an ounce of it through the years that he visited our home. He was an older gentleman and we missed him when her retired, but he had one last gift to bring via a secret request made by my Mom.  I had been asking for this sword that I mentioned, and he brought me several swordfish swords. My Dad would patiently put them in the brook or an ant’s nest as prescribed by Scotty (our fish vendor’s nickname… his last name was Scott) but none of them turned out to be fit for making a sword.

One Christmas I opened a very special gift…. It was a sword. Scotty had gotten a wonderful man, who lived on Reed’s Hill in our town to make a sword for me. He was a native and had made wonderful hand-carved swords, and because he knew our family (likely friends with my Granddad or my Dad and our Scotty), he made me the sword for almost nothing. That sword, worth much money today ( for a mere 5 dollars back then), became a much loved possession that I have kept down through the years. I hope one day that one of my children, or grandchildren, will want it to be part of their prized possessions, along with some of the things I have made and given them. Heirlooms are not as popular perhaps these days, but I can dream that some of those things will be passed on to caring recipients.

But it is not about the stuff. It is about the meaning, and our home was filled with meaning. There had to be choices made and it was always without threat, when it came to faith and religious dedication to ongoing worship and celebration in the Faith. When others stayed home on days when Christmas landed on Sunday, to open gifts and play with toys, we opened gifts and then went to Church to celebrate the greatest gift of all …. The birth of Jesus. “For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; And the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Found in Isaiah 9:6) It was not a burden; it was enlightenment that one day became a way of life, a meaningful extension of who we would become as modern shepherds, and wise men, women and children, who would seek out the Christ Child each year. Oh it may have had its moments at first, when disappointment found our hearts, having to leave those gifts behind, but that did not last for long.

These past 40 plus years of married life have brought changes, once we had a family of our own. Yes there were the disappointments that families face. The Christmas after we lost our first son (he would be 41now) was hard for me and likely was even harder for my wonderful wife, but we knew that God would provide and He did. A year later a new joy found us with our first daughter beside the Christmas tree and through the ensuing years another daughter and then another son followed. Christmas became so much fun and along with the joy of gathering, we started reading the Christmas Story on Christmas Eve, and we set forth new traditions. Some years, while living away, we traveled hours to get home to spend time with our parents, so that they could share Christmas with the grandchildren who they got to see only a few times a year. These were important family times, filled with opportunity to record the smiles, the excitement, and the joys of just time to chat. We rehearsed the past and watched children who had a whole lifetime ahead of them dream of every adventure possible, that evolved from those gifts unwrapped and scattered before them on Christmas morning.

Now we watch our children and grandchildren lead the way in celebration as they ring forth His praises, “Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth and goodwill toward men”, in word, pageantry and song. One day perhaps, one of them or maybe even a few of them, will be thinking back over the years and remember their Granddad’s long ,and hopefully meaningful prayers with them at Christmas, regardless of the worry over the food growing cold, and record for the next generations their thoughts about the joys of Christmas. May they carry those memories forward and show their children and grandchildren the true Reason for the Season, while remembering some of the ghosts of their own Christmas’ past.

It is a journey not everyone who reads today will want to take or enjoy taking, I am sure. There may be those of you who will not have fond and lasting memories of Christmas in your childhood or even as adults in family together. Many the times there have been, when I had to pray for families who were spending Christmas in fear, unrest and anger, as discord was the environment in the home. The answer is not in the stresses of affording, wrapping and giving, it is in the time spent together and it is what we do with that time that counts. Yes, too spend a lot of time preparing, making things to give my family, because I have the time.  I can do the work myself and it becomes an extension of the love found in gifts that I can both afford to give and without expectation, give freely just for the joy of doing so. But, most of all, it has become that teary moment, when seeing one of our grandchildren sitting on their father’s knee reading “The Story” from Luke 2 while their Dad helps he or she with the difficult words… a moment this grandparent will never forget, a memory cherished for a lifetime.

What will your Christmas bring to you this year? I pray there will be more to it than the stress of preparations being made and a mad rush of gifts being pulled open on Christmas morning. There is too much suffering from the syndrome of anticlimactic disappointment, as people wonder where it all went and ask themselves, “is all that energy I expended getting ready really worth the effort? “I have been there, so don’t beat yourself up. My journey into frustration with Christmas lasted several years while our children were in their teens and following. Children must make their way out of the nest, and in doing so have to leave us behind temporarily. Those years were lonely and I withdrew somewhat wanting to find a solace, in the comfort that Christmas still had a meaning beyond our children and gifts… a reinvestment you might say, in the true meaning of Christmas. If you are there today and frustrated… take time to consider why and who we celebrate, and try to realign your perspective more towards what may have been left behind.  At this point walk away from the edge…. Yes, you read it correctly dear friends… away from the edge, and go back to the core of what Christmas is really about. This is not the time for just the fringe benefits of Christmas… you and I need the core, the central blessing of the Season…. “But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:10-11)

I continue to pray for all who need help and ask. I pray for my dear family today, as we have lost another of our loved ones. Christmas will be a more reserved celebration as a husband, a sister and nieces and nephews recall a life that was precious, now gone from their presence. But the Prince of Peace still reigns and He said, “"Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful. You heard that I said to you,  I go away, and I will come to you. If you loved Me, you would have rejoiced because I go to the Father, for the Father is greater than I.” (John 14:27-28) This is the child, become a servant on our behalf, whose birth we celebrate… He brings the peace we seek… Seek Him this Christmas! Sometimes the perspective from there brings unexpected joy! Be blessed in Christ as you celebrate this weekend, remembering Jesus’ birth…. Amen!

Ell Chambers and Glory-Hole Boxes

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