remembering not to forget

"Never doubt in the dark what God told you in the light." —V. Raymond Edman

if you've hung around this planet long enough, you know that things don't always go the way you want them to.

       flat tires.
       bad haircuts.
       country music.
       any Microsoft product.

you get the picture.

i don't know about you, but when things don't go my way, i don't always handle the unwanted interruption with consummate grace. i have an almost superhuman ability to whine, wallow and sulk. if there were Olympics for wanting my own way, i would have multiple gold medals. i'd need a bigger home simply to showcase them all.

and then, something crazy happens. you find out that this little person, who, while he's only been on this planet for four short years, has so entangled himself in your heart that you couldn't pull the two apart if you tried, is sick.

and you realize how very little and stupid the rest of it all is.

and somewhere in the flurry of details, facts, fear, and the ear-piercing sound of your own heart breaking, for a moment you forget. you forget that long before you met this little man that he was designed and loved by God. you forget the miracles that already happened resulting in his very presence in our lives. you forget that your job hasn't changed in the face of all that
has changed. that your job is to pray, and love, and trust, and believe in not only the Baby Savior we're waiting for, but the Risen Savior who took on illness and death—and won.

my job is not to forget.

a dear friend sent me these verses {and more} this morning, and i am reading them over and over in an effort to remember not to forget...
"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous.
Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God
goes with you wherever you go." —Joshua 1:9

"The Lord himself goes before you & will be with you;
He will never leave you or forsake you. Do not be
afraid; do not be discouraged." —Deuteronomy 31:8

"For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right
hand & says Do not fear, I will help you." —Isaiah 41:3

"The Lord is faithful to all His promises & loving to all He
has made. The Lord upholds all who fall and lifts up all
who are bowed down." —Psalm 145:13-14

"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in
trouble. Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth give way &
the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though the waters
roar & foam, and the mountains quake with their surging." —Psalm 46:1-3

For updates on Jayden, visit http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/jaydenphaneuf .



in true advent form, we are waiting.

waiting for news on Jayden.

late yesterday, after a weekend of bad news followed by more bad news, we finally got a bit of good. last night's surgery went well.

and today, we are back to waiting.

here's the problem with waiting: when you're standing in the middle of the fear, the unknown, the dark, you have to struggle to remember the good. remember that no matter how alone you may feel, that you're never really alone. remember that no matter how dark and thick it is around you, that light always triumphs over darkness. remember that the hope we have is based on no small thing.

for the past three days i have had a line of a song in my head. it's a Christmas one by Steven Curtis Chapman, and until tonight, while i knew i had it in the vast recesses of my iTunes library, i wasn't sure which one it was. using my brilliant detective skills {i saw you roll your eyes...} i solved the mini mystery. it's called The Miracle of Christmas, and seems especially fitting this season, as we really need a miracle this year.
The Miracle of Christmas
by Steven Curtis Chapman

A child is born tonight in Bethlehem
His mother holds him close and sings a sweet lullaby
All the world is sleeping unaware that God himself has come in the night

The shepherds tremble as the angels sing
And in their song the voice of God speaks peace to the world
A miracle has happened, God has come and God has spoken
But the miracle has only just begun

And the God who spoke is speaking still
And the God who came still comes
And the miracle that happened still happens in the heart that will believe
And we see (receive) the miracle of Christmas

So come to Bethlehem again and see
The One who's come to rescue us, our Saviour and King
Bring your past, the joy, the sorrow, all your hope to find tomorrow
And hear the words again, fear not and know that God is near

For the God who spoke is speaking still
And the God who came still comes
And the miracle that happened still happens in the heart that will believe
And receive the miracle of Christmas

Believe the miracle of Christmas
Will you believe?

{emphasis mine}
"The God who came still comes..." this is the line that has been repeated over and over in my mind. the words i need to remember. that He is still Emmanuel, "God with us", not the God who was here, but God with us.

please continue to pray for Jayden, his mom, dad, sister, brother and the rest of our family as we continue to wait and hope in the God who is with us.

updated December calendar...

if you would like to use this as your desktop, simply click on it, then right click on the larger version and 'save as'.



i've been trying to write a blog post since friday...

...but i have discovered that it is extremely difficult to write when your heart is breaking.

my 4-year old nephew Jayden is sick.

friday, after he woke up unable to walk, the doctors at the calgary children's hospital found that he has tumors—most notably two on his spine.

after efforts to try to shrink them, unless the little guy moves his legs soon, they will be doing surgery to remove some of the bone in his spine at 9:00 pm eastern time tonight.

being so far away really sucks. every bit of news that makes it here is bad, so right now we NEED some good news. Jayden needs something to go right, to be good.

who am i kidding? we all do.


please pray...



fifteen years ago this morning my Gram called up the stairs to ask if i wanted to look at the papers. ten minutes later my Grampa yelled up to me to let the paramedics in. in those short ten minutes, Gram—best friend, staunchest supporter, my own personal prayer warrior—left this life for the next.

suddenly, for the first time in my life, eternity never seemed so far away.

and i was left here, waiting, to see her again.

recently, others joined her. in the past 15 months, Grampa, Uncle Sylvio, and only last month Uncle Jerry, have all left gaping holes in the horizon of our family.

as the first week of this Advent season heads into the second, i've been reflecting on the theme of the season: waiting.

we are always waiting for something.

        for an appointment.
        a bus.
        our turn.
        a visit from a faraway friend.
        a dream to come true.
        to be healed.

yes, always waiting for something.

we do our best, however, to convince ourselves that we're not waiting. we are so very clever at diverting ourselves, focusing our attention on the things that we can make happen, filling the holes in our lives with all the things we can, convincing ourselves that in spite of what we don't have, we are still, somehow, complete.

and then, there is Advent.

these days celebrating the fact that in reality we don't have what we need to complete ourselves. that on our own, we are incomplete. that the baby in the manger wasn't only suppose to fulfill prophecy, but was also meant to fill our hearts. round us out, to be the people we are always destined to be.

and Advent also reminds us that while we are on this side of eternity, we will always be waiting—waiting see our Savior face to face, waiting to see ourselves fully in God's eyes, and yes, waiting to see those who have gone on before us.

so, this morning i miss my Gram, and so many others. but as i wait to see them again, i will embrace the waiting, letting it remind me that i am not yet complete, that i need this baby Savior, and that while i am alive, there is still so much for me to do while i wait.

and so i wait...




Total Pageviews