When I Dwell On You

When I dwell on you, Oh Lord,
I know you are here with me,
Though it doesn't always seem to be,
I know it's true
When I dwell on you.

When I seek you with my heart,
I know you will answer me,
Though it doesn't always seem to be,
I know it's true
When I seek you.

When I give my life to you,
I know you will care for me,
Though it doesn't always seem to be,
I know it's true,
When I give it all to you.

When you come for me, Jesus,
I will gladly go with you,
Though it doesn't always seem to be,
I know it's true,
I'll go with you.

I'll go with you.


By Kathy Brown
Just words that came into my head today.

Blythe

I held a baby today - her name is Blythe and she is only 10 days old. She weighed in over 9 pounds at her birth, so most of us ladies applaud her mother when we see her! At least, we applaud her in our minds!

Blythe stretched alot while I held her, and I can only imagine that is a reflex from being curled up inside her mother's womb. You know how good it feels to stretch after sitting or sleeping in one position for just hours -- imagine months at a time! She is obviously very strong. I could feel that when she stretched.

There is something very comforting and soothing about holding a baby in your arms -- especially, I think, when they sleep on you. I could sit for hours with a baby sleeping on me, head resting just below my chin.

As I held Blythe today, I pondered the reasons for my lack of children and certainly had at least a vague notion that there must be some mistake, and I wondered again "why?"

I'm sure that question will eventually be answered. In the meantime, tonight I pray for Blythe. I pray that she love the home she grows up in, that she knows she is loved just for being her, that she is surrounded by family and people that realize what a gift she really is. I pray that whatever her dreams are, she feels confident and supported to achieve them all, and that she is a little light that shines in the people's lives that she touches. I know that she was a light in my life today!

I just don't understand

So much love around me
And yet still
A critical heart.

So much love shown me
And yet still
A judgmental heart.

So much love given me
And yet still
A suspicious heart.

I just don't understand.

My Walk Home

"Yet true godliness with contentment is itself great wealth. After all, we brought nothing with us when we came into the world, and we can’t take anything with us when we leave it. So if we have enough food and clothing, let us be content."
1 Timothy 6: 6-8 New Living Translation

One of my Facebook friends recently asked me where I would go on a mental vacation. She would go to London and shop with her 3 best friends. And for sure that sounds very appealing to me as well. But I captured my immediate thought as the question was asked, and found out something about myself that was quite heartening to me.

You see, Tuesday was a beautiful day in the Edmonton area. It was probably 65 degrees outside and there was a slight breeze. It was the first day of the new transit schedule that results in me not even having to transfer between buses on my commute from my new home in St. Albert and my office in downtown Edmonton. So, I sat in one of the raised seats on the double bus I was on and a few windows were open -- the soft breeze felt simply delicious on my skin. I know there was a glow of happiness about me right then.

I exited the bus a block from my apartment building and began walking down the road that leads to my home. A super-awareness came over me as I noticed the lush green trees and bushes that lined the street. A few of the trees on my right as I walked had beautiful orangish red berries in them that I could see gently swaying. There was a pretty rustic wood fence that appeared as well. The skies were blue with faint wisps of white appearing every now and again. There was the sound of birds and perhaps a dog barking in the distance, or perhaps it was a bit of laughter floating on the wind from the nearby high school.

As I walked down that little stretch of just one block, it seemed to me as if time suddenly stood still. Right then, it seemed like the longest, most enjoyable walk of my life. I slowed my pace to a languid stroll, and as I enjoyed my walk, absorbing the sights and sounds and smells, and as I yet thought of all going on in my life, I thought, "there is no place I would rather be than right here."

Thank you, God, for providing me a fairy-tale walk to my new home in a very real world!

Science

You know, if I wasn't a Christian with a scientific mind, I would guess this was a four-letter word in the Christian community.

science (sī'əns) Pronunciation Key The investigation of natural phenomena through observation, theoretical explanation, and experimentation, or the knowledge produced by such investigation. ◇ Science makes use of the scientific method, which includes the careful observation of natural phenomena, the formulation of a hypothesis, the conducting of one or more experiments to test the hypothesis, and the drawing of a conclusion that confirms or modifies the hypothesis. See Note at hypothesis.
The American Heritage® Science Dictionary
Copyright © 2002 by Houghton Mifflin Company.
Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.

I am going on the record here to say that science and faith are not at odds with one another. I'll also go on record here to say I'll never be able to convince you of that. Ever. If you are scientifically oriented atheist, you will not believe me until you have your own meeting with God.

I've been thinking about this alot lately. Books have been published and reached the best-seller's list that supposedly present the best (i.e., most researched perhaps, or most convincing maybe) atheistic arguments against the existence of God. I purchased the most recently famous of these books - "god is not Great" by Christopher Hitchens. I wanted to read it because someone in my office was touting it and a pastoral friend of mine referenced it as well.

It was with great anticipation that I settled down one evening, book in hand, warm lamplight on, snuggled in a blanket, and began to read. I was sure I was going to unlock the secret of the atheistic mind with the reading of this book. I was even a bit anxious about reading what was considered such a strong book -- "how strong is my faith?" I wondered. I need not have been too concerned. Not because Mr. Hitchens is a poor writer (he's not), or because his arguments are weak (they aren't); but, simply because he and I think alot alike. In fact, he writes and communicates quite succinctly what I myself believed until recently.

After alot of thought, I can only suggest that the following is the difference between a scientifically oriented atheist and me in terms of believing in God:

A scientific atheist makes science his/her God. That is, the existence
of God has not been scientifically proven to him/her, so science wins
the argument. Science trumps God.

This scientific Christian (can't speak for all) attributes science to God.
That is, that God has given us curious minds that look for patterns,
formulae, cause & effect, etc., that reveal God's creation to us. So,
God and science do not conflict.

Science allows us to build good bridges. We develop engineering standards based on scientific study. Science allows us to observe when a medication helps a medical condition. We develope medicines based on scientific study and experimentation. Science in and of itself is not bad or good, it simply is. Science deals with predicability in my view. If something happens one way 2000 time is a row, it is like to happen that same way the 2001st time, right? That is science.

Science has some flaws, though. Engineering standards get revised because of anomalies or unexpected failures. I know a few people, one who I talked to today, who's medical condition so far is unexplained by science. He received a blood plate count of "3" recently (normal is 140 or so), but appears to be healthy in every way other than this count. They have retested and confirmed tests were not mixed up or anything. The doctor keeps taking his blood pressure and it is normal every time. The doctor says, "this doesn't make sense". So far, science has not explained this -- it is a new phenomena so to speak.

I'm not "dissing" science here -- I'm just pointing out that it is not something you can take to the bank. You can make predictions based on science, but if it was foolproof, we'd never have bridge failures and medicines would always work as predicted, etc.

Two days before becoming a believer in Jesus Christ, I told a friend that believing in God for me "would be like believing that the sky would be pink behind that cloud up in the sky when all around the cloud the sky is blue." It wouldn't make sense to believe that, right?

Then I met God.

And I've learned that the argument about the color of the sky behind the cloud is totally irrelevant to the issue.

I have a dream......

"I believe in angels,
Something good in everything I see,
I believe in angels
When I know the time is right for me......"

Yes! I went to see "Mamma Mia" last night. My favorite song is "I have a dream." Very poignant.

I do believe in angels. And I do believe there is something good in everything I see. It has been made clear to me over and over and over again that God works in all situations. Even the situations that make me think "Where is He?"

There are so many angels around me -- I hope I will be an angel to someone.

Who Am I?

Poem: "My Family"
By: Kathy Brown (probably in the mid-1970's: hopefully, I wasn't any older).

I received this poem in the mail today from my cousin Dawn. Apparently, I wrote it many years ago, as a young teen. She found it amongst paperwork in the "Mack" household. I find this quite repulsive as to me it shows a critical and judgmental spirit in me at quite an early age. I wholeheartedly apologize to my family members for any rotten thing I've thought or said over the years. Good grief. Sometimes I wonder, "Who Am I?"

Daddy knows how to argue
So that you will never win
Mom knows how to make coffee
That's as black and strong as sin.

Dale knows how to throw a punch
Just like Missy Mack
Judy is cold and distant
But she gets it all right back.

Karen seems small and delicate
Till you hear her when she's mad
Jacquelines just the oposite
But is really just as bad.

This is my whole family
And it's all you want to hear
Cause if I told you about myself
It would take nearly all the year.

Nathan

I wasn't really surprised to see him on the street. He always seemed very comfortable among "street people". And street people always seemed comfortable around him.

But actually, it wasn't by sight that I first recognized him today. I left work a little early to go to a new hairdresser to get my hair done - coloured high-lighted and cut, thank you very much. It has been too long since the last "do" and the frumpy look had to go. So, I made my way to the Epcor Building downtown and had a little visit with Dino -- my new best friend today! I was there for about 3 hours, which was well worth it! My hair looks fabulous!

I left with two muffins in hand and my wallet very much intact (great prices there), and made my way to the City Centre bus stop. Just as I was about to cross 102 Avenue to get to the stop, the light turned against me, and as luck would have it today, my St. Albert bus chose then to make its stop for passengers. With hope in my eyes, I ran across the street anyways (against the light), but to no avail. And so began the wait for the next bus -- I figured it would be about a half an hour IF I hadn't just missed the last bus.

There were alot of lame, hungry, drunk, drugged, smoking, yelling, cursing and begging street people at this stop today. I wondered if I would get to hang on to my muffins. I gave one away early on in my wait to a woman who asked me for change. As I listened to the chatter around me, I heard a familiar voice but couldnt quite place it. Looking around there were no familiar faces. A few seconds later, I heard it again.

That familiar voice was coming from a young man with a shaved head. His face was clean-shaven and he wore a nice suit. He carried a grey with orange trim knapsack and wore headphones connected to a CD player that was also gray and orange. It looked new. He wore sneakers as do many downtown workers around North America. All in all, a very attractive young man.

But wait, the last time I saw him, he had a head full of moppy dark red curls, held aloft from his head by a blue bandana. He sported a beard and wore very casual clothes -- jeans and t-shirts. He worked as a custodian at my church. Nathan.

I marveled as he either did not see me or he did not recognize me -- not sure which. I watched as he made a move to board the #9 bus to Northgate. At the last minute, he changed his mind, came and sat on the bench near me and made a call to someone to come meet him at Tim Horton's. He retied his shoes and started down 101 Street towards 104 Avenue. I watched and listened as he stopped a few feet away from me and spoke to a young black man that he obviously had not met previously.

As I listened, I thought "Ah yes, I know THIS Nathan." And as I listened, he told the young man about Jesus Christ. He spent ten minutes or so with the young man and invited him to a camp (Shiloh Camp or something like that). He gave the young man a business size card. And then I watched as he continued on his way. A block further, I saw him stop and do the same thing again.

Nathan. Good to see you!

Cesaria Evora

I went to a concert about a week ago. The artist was Cesaria Evora, from Cape Verde, Africa. The language there is Portuguese and that is indeed the language in which she sang. What a phenomenal voice!

Her opening act was a band called Tcheka. Frankly, I can hardly wait to get a CD of theirs or see them in concert. Incredible. The rhythms that come of out this band from Cape Verde were fantastic, and not often heard here.

What a night.

Hens

Well, it has certainly been a long time since I've posted, and alot has happened in the meantime. If you read my blog, you know that my mom passed away on April 13. I miss her tremendously and at sometimes very unusual times. Like yesterday when I was boiling eggs. Whenever I boil eggs, I think of mom. She was very particular about eggs being boiled or poached until the yolks were very hard. That is just something that has stuck with me, so I always think of her when I boil eggs.

I've moved into my own apartment in St. Albert, Alberta, and I am loving it. It is nice and quiet and I have complete roam of my home. I've lived alone most of my adult life, but have lived in a house full of people for the last 3 years. So, it is a relief again to have some space and privacy.

But, it gets lonely, too, and it is at those times that I want to call my mom. She had a natural gift for encouragement, and always mixed it with pragmatism as well. I find that I miss having that connection with someone who understands the past and present of me and so can offer good advice, knowing what I am really all about. I believe that I provided that same thing for mom once in a while, too.

I've been taking the bus from St. Albert to downtown Edmonton, where I work, and have been getting to know some of the ladies on the bus. I always choose to sit in the middle of the double bus, in the raised seats that face the aisle, and it turns out there are a regular group of women who sit in the same place. Today, there were 7 of us in the one spot, and as they were talking and joking with one another, I thought of how easily my mom would have fit into that group of hens. Even though she tended to be a bit on the quieter side, she always got along well in groups and would laugh and joke along with all.

I have a family here in Alberta, though, and a wonderful family they are, too. A couple of days after I moved into this new place, about 18 ladies from my church, North Pointe Community Church, surprised me with a grocery shower. I have never had anything like that and was totally surprised to be the "showeree" now as well! As they came into my apartment, they all sat down on the floor of the living room, and mini conferences started taking place. That is, every three or four people were having a conversation separate from the rest, so there were about 6 conversations going on. Rod, a husband of one of my friends who was there, commented later that it sounded like a bunch of hens. I just stood there for a couple of minutes and marveled at how easily these ladies socialized with one another and I LOVED the sound of their chatter all around.

There is something special that happens when a group of women gets together. Once my mom and sisters visited me in Arlington, Virginia, for a girl's weekend. What a hoot! I'll miss our little hen parties. But, I now have a group of hen friends that I look forward to having a hoot with now!

Thank you, God, for such a great family of hens who have spoiled me rotten with their generosity of spirit and resources as well. Thank you for an awesome church family who have welcomed me with open arms into their church and their community. I pray that I do the same for others moving forward.

Lavender Mornings and Periwinkle Nights

“So I tell you, don’t worry about everyday life – whether you have enough food, drink, and clothes.  Doesn’t life consist of more than food and clothing?”
Matthew 6:25 (New Living Translation)
 
Lavender Mornings and Periwinkle Nights
 
I hate the snow.  I really hate the snow.  Let me qualify that a little.  I hate driving in the snow.  When I get up on a workday and look out the window and there is snow for me to contend with, tears come to my eyes as I anticipate the stress of getting to work that day.  Stress caused by the multitude of drivers on the roads that don’t appear to recognize that snow creates a condition requiring a slower and more cautious pace of travel.  Stress caused by knowledge that I am going to be honked at for quite some miles as I make my way to work.  Stress caused by the feeling that it just doesn’t seem right to risk my life to get to work, but that is the reality and the way of life today.  Everything may be sacrificed for work.  Work is top priority in this 24/7 world. 

I was lucky this past Thursday.  It had snowed enough Wednesday that school was closed the following day.  Since it had taken me an hour and a half to get home from my job at the school district the night before (and generally, it would take 25 – 30 minutes), I breathed a great sigh of relief when the call came that school was cancelled on Thursday.  Then I proceeded to catch up on e-mails, read, clean and make some calls.  I met a friend for lunch, and as I drove out of my complex, realized 8 Mile Road was still not cleared.  It was treacherous, in fact, and I was thankful again that I did not have to face it in all the traffic earlier that morning.  All in all, Thursday was a great day – a snow day.

To make up for missing work Thursday, my department had to work Saturday.  Saturday morning, I got up early, showered, dressed for work, packed a lunch, and with some trepidation, exited my apartment.  It was a lavender morning. You know, where you walk outside in the twilight just before dawn and with the snow and the cloud cover and perhaps just a hint of light from an early sunrise behind the clouds, everything was twinkling and lavender.  Flashbacks to childhood moments when we lived in a small town in rural Vermont came into my head.  A moment when I was alone in the backyard building a snowman; alone until my mom came out to help with a big smile on her face.  A moment when I had walked home from school between huge walls of snow and the tears rolled down my face because I was so cold.   And when I reached our house, I knocked on the door.  Mom opened it and I cried “I think I have frostbite!”  I remember she laughed and pulled me in and fed me some warm soup or hot cocoa to get me warmed up.  But I remember most being warmed by the warmth in her eyes and in her laugh.  Those were lavender moments.

It snowed all day Saturday while we were at work and I felt some stress build up through the day – what would the drive home be like?  Another hour and a half obstacle course filled with loud horns and obscene gestures? 
 
I left just as the sun was setting.  The roads were not bad at all and there was very little traffic out there that evening.  As I got closer to home, the scenery changed from industrial to suburban, the sun disappeared, and nighttime descended.  It was a periwinkle night.  You know, the kind of night where it seems almost as light as day because the moon illuminates the clouds and the snow with its ethereal bluish light.  Another flashback to Vermont.  Mom asking me if I would like to do something very special one night – go ice-skating on a pond with a few other girls and their mothers.  And I remember being so very excited as we left, bundled up in snowsuits, hats, mittens and scarves.  In my young mind, I was sure it was midnight at least, but it was very light out.  And here I was getting to ice-skate at midnight with “the girls”.  That was a periwinkle moment.
 
Lord, thank you for the job that provides food and clothing for me.  Thank you, even more, Lord, for a mom that provided lavender mornings and periwinkle nights to those around her throughout her entire lifetime.  Thank you for her beautiful smile, her lilting laugh, her unfailing grace that allowed her to be joyful in all circumstances. I marvel at the beauty you create in this world, which my mom captured both in her spirit and in her artwork.  Beauty that inspires treasured moments like these with my mom that I can call to mind when I begin to feel stressed during everyday life today. 

By Kathy Brown in loving memory of:

Ann Marie Brown
1937 – 2007

Favoured Grace

Time passed far too quickly for me.

I want to see mom's face again,
The laugh wrinkles in the corners of her eyes,
The impish Irish grin that showed the little gap between her two front teeth,
The beautiful freckles I was so envious of.

I want to hear mom's voice again,
The soprano voice that sung around the house when I was little,
The laugh that got us all laughing with its contagiousness,
The voice calling out "Bingo!" even as recently as Christmastime.

I want to smell mom's flowery perfume again,
The cinnamon she used to boil on the stove,
The turpentine she used to clean her paint brushes,
The candles she would burn in the kitchen.

I want to taste mom's salmon patties one more time,
And her extra hard-boiled poached eggs on toast,
And her oatmeal with raisins, pecans & brown sugar,
As well as her lowfat Dr. MacDuggal's spaghetti sauce with turkey sausage.

I want to kiss mom's forehead once again,
And hold her hand in an attempt to comfort her,
And touch the sparse hair that was once plentiful on her head,
And smooth the wrinkles from her brows that had not yet turned completely grey.

I am grateful that I will be seeing mom again in heaven,
Because of her faith and my faith in God,
Who sent His Son to die for our sins,
And my fervent prayer is that you will be seeing mom again, too.

Ann M. Brown (1937 - 2007)

BROWN, ANN MARIE; age 69; of Commerce Township, MI; passed away April 13th, 2007. Beloved wife of Douglas Brown; daughter of Albert and Clare Tierney O'Brien; dear mother of Kathleen Brown, Dale Brown, Judith (Scott) Wager, Karen (Kurt) Jacobson, and Jacqueline (John) Bronicki; she is survived by three grandchildren Stephanie, Anna, and Alex. Thank you to all friends and family whom she loved. You can visit her web site and leave a note at www.caringbridge.org/visit/annbrown Memorial Service Friday, April 20th at 11 a.m. at the Universalist Unitarian Church of Farmington, 25301 Halsted, Farmington Hills. Memorials to the American Library Association at www.ala.org.

April 13, 2007

My beautiful, wonderful mom passed away today at the young age of 69 years. I will miss her so very much. Please pray for my family as we come to terms with life here without Mom.

www.caringbridge.org/visit/annbrown

tears

For Mom

Dear God I come to you tonight
To bow and give you all my fright
Of things that are and things to be
With mom, my family, and me.

Oh Lord, more faith is what I need
I pray my words become your seed
That grace and kindness, mercy, too
Flow out of me because of You.

I pray that mom is one of yours
And that she knows your open doors
That Christ is on her mind today
And she prays to you without delay.

I pray, Oh God, her time's not up
That there's life yet within her cup
Oh Lord, you know our need of her
My family's lonely pacifer.

My Lord, my heart be humbled yet
My sins, Oh God, you would forget
So prayers can flow from me to you
Because of love, not what I do.

In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.

Memories

Click here for a little bit of my story!

Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes

"So he took me in spirit to a great, high, mountain, and he showed me the holy city, Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God. It was filled with the glory of God and sparkled like a precious gem, crystal clear like jasper."
Revelation 21:10-11 (New Living Translation)

Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes

Do you know that song by Paul Simon and Ladysmith Black Mambazo? Such beautiful music that combines African and English sounds and words. I recently told someone that I thought the meaning of that phrase had to do with the diamond mining done in Africa and the hard work of the Africans in the mines. Wanting to confirm that belief, I've been trying to find references on the web. Well, let me tell you, I was way off base!

It was Thursday morning, as I left the house at about 6:45 am, that this song came to mind. It was pre-dawn, of course, and after closing the door on my way out, I realized it had snowed during the night. My immediate reaction was one of "Oh no - not more snow! Is this ever going to end!" Whine, whine, whine.

There is no great desire here for snow now, as we have certainly had our share over this very long, extended winter. It has been a winter in the prairies that has taken a toll on the spirits - the most common phrase I have heard over the last few weeks is "I am so tired." The second most common: "It has been so cold for so long!" Wearing the multitude of layers necessary to combat the cold gets tiresome around the end of March, and in rebellion, I’ve started to leave some things at home rather than weigh myself down with the weight and worry of keeping track of these items - things like gloves or scarves, etc. As if somehow, I could influence the weather by my rather pathetic actions.

It has also been incredibly gray this winter. Our province is called "The Sunny Province", but it did not live up to its name this winter. I'm not sure, but I'm thinking I might have some sort of seasonal mood disorder because now when I see the sun, I literally cry with joy -- little tears, but tears nonetheless.

So, like I said, the snow on Thursday morning was not initially a welcome sight. Until, in the quiet of the morning, I stopped and let my gaze take in the sight around me. It was really only a quarter inch or so dusting of really big snowflakes that had fallen on Edmonton. You know the kind. The kind that twinkle and sparkle like a multitude of diamonds in the dim light of the streetlights or the early morning gray/purple twilight. And as I watched my feet walking along their diamond-studded path to the day's beginning, I thought how often God introduces beauty into events and circumstances that are quite ugly or unwelcome. As if to say, "With everything, there is good and bad, beauty and ugliness, pain and comfort, etc. You will see both in all circumstances. What will you choose to embrace?"

Similar is our choice to know Christ. You don’t have to be very old to know that the joys in this world are temporal in nature. You can be happy in our job and lose it. You can make lots of money in our job, but you seem to spend it, and you need yet more, and more, and more, for greater happiness. You can love your particular office, and show it off to your family and friends, yet not be connected to your fellow workers. You can dump your problems on your spouse and temporarily find release, until your spouse gets tired of being dumped on . . . and then your spouse dumps you. You can love your house, but if it is empty, it will not satisfy you for long. You can love your food so much that it makes you overweight and reluctant to move, and then as you suffer joint pain or diabetes or any number of other ailments, you can come to hate that food to which you are addicted. You can love your wine until one day, you wake up and realize years have passed with little but bad memories to show for them.

There is one thing you can love safely that will never leave you nor forsake you – Christ himself. He died for the sake of your sins, so that you could know him intimately, mature with him in your heart, and yes, so you would see the holy city, filled with the spirit of God and sparkling like a gem. And perhaps, as you walk along the streets in that sparkling holy city, you will remember a time when you made a choice. A choice to walk with diamonds on the soles of your shoes.

As Paul Simon's song ends, so I chose on Thursday and pray to keep choosing:

"People say I'm crazy
I got diamonds on the soles of my shoes
Well that's one way to lose
These walking blues
Diamonds on the soles of your shoes"

Lisa's Birthday

This is my friend Lisa, and the pic was taken at her birthday party last night. I've altered the picture to eliminate the view of my rolls of fat below. Ugh. The party was alot of fun -- friends included Diana & Paulo (Paulo is from Bosnia), Karyn, Karla and Lisa and I. A late addition was Thomas (from East Germany). Honestly, one of the really neat things about Edmonton is running across so many cultures.

So, I am grateful for my friend Lisa sending me this pic - motivation is what I will label it for now.

Ciao.

Ruthie

If you live in Edmonton, if you are a fan of gospel and/or the blue, and if you did not go see Ruthie Foster and her band at the Citadel today (or rather yesterday - it's late!), then you missed the boat, let me tell you.

They rocked. And I mean ROCKED.

Although Ruthie sings a variety of different styles -- gospel, blues, country-ish, folk, raggae -- personally, my favorites were in the gospel & blues arena. And I have to admit, particularly in the gospel area. As I listened to her sing "Walk On" and "Woke Up This Mornin", I felt certain I would be hearing these tunes again in heaven. But it was nice to experience a little bit of heaven on earth tonight. Her first encore song was a rendition of "Old Susannah" that brought the theatre to a complete silence with Ruthie's simple, pure voice accompanied by the guitar, taking a delicate tone.

I saw Ruthie on "Austin City Limits" on Detroit Public Television a few years ago - I heard this voice coming out of the television, and wondered who had such a heavenly voice. I remembered her name, and when I saw she was coming to Edmonton, had to get tickets. She was even better in person than I remembered her on television. Just incredible.

Ruthie's stories are completely engaging and give the audience insight into the source of her song-writing. As well, Ruthie doesn't seem to be caught off-guard by anything, including mishaps on the stage, handling all with a personal charm.

The all-female band was a phenomenal backup. Stephanie Blue (don't think I'll ever forget this name) played awesome organ and synth, Ruthie's cousin (sorry -- Stephanie's name is stuck in my head) provided flawless bass, and I don't remember the drummer's name, but I was completely enthralled with her talent and obvious passion for the music.

www.ruthiefoster.com

If I could do it all over again.....well, sign me up! Thank you, God, for this evening of uplifting and beautiful music, as well as good fellowship and catching up with Dawn-Marie.

Sometimes When It Rains, It Pours

There's no easy way to say this. My Aunt Ellie died last night. The first of my "blood" aunts/uncles to pass away, and the second overall (the first was her husband, Uncle Ben). Most likely, it was a stroke as she had already survived two strokes. She wasn't supposed to be climbing her fairly sizable driveway, but footsteps were found there, so there is some supposition that she did just that.

Aunt Ellie was an amazing woman. She was a strong Christian who prayed for my immediate family constantly, as well as her family, church and church staff, her nation, missionaries, my church and church staff, etc., etc., etc. I remember calling her a couple of years ago because I could not seem to find enough time to pray every day for all the people I was praying for, and she gave me an organizational tip for prayer -- Mondays -- family, Tuesdays - pastors & church staff, Wednesdays -- for the sick......something like that. I'll have to look up the particulars because frankly, I have not yet mastered the art of this particular organization.

She was married to a man who came to Christ in his late twenties or early thirties, I believe. Before that, he was a hooligan to be sure. After he came to Christ, he still was not the easiest of men, but his purpose was definitely for Christ.

As children, we loved to visit Aunt Ellie & Uncle Ben, and their children, on their farm in upstate New York. Of course, it was great to be around the barn animals -- cows, chickens, horses, even the barn kittens (my personal favorites). But it was doubly awesome to be around Aunt Ellie. She was inevitably in the kitchen, canning, jarring, cooking -- but even with all that activity, she was peaceful to be around. You know what I mean, don't you? In her house, you escaped from the rat race of city life, into the arms of a country housewife. I'm sure it was difficult -- busy from sun-up to sun-down on the farm.

Their house was a typical farmhouse -- I don't remember all the rooms -- most of our time was spent sitting at the table in the kitchen. I know they had a dining room and a living room on the main floor -- on chicken-killing day, I would pound on the piano in the living room so as not to hear the cries of the chickens. There was a bathroom as well. Upstairs was really neat, I believe, with two large rooms -- one for their son Eric, and the other for their daughters Dawn, Mary and Melissa. Her house was clean and smelled good, her laundry always smelled fresh from being hung out on the line. I remember pitting cherries and husking corn on their porch steps in the summer evenings when we visited. I remember walking through some fields to see ducks on a pond (I think). I remember playing with a brand new kitten in their living room. But most of all I remember the gentleness that was Ellie - you just wanted to be around the positive, gentle, easy person that Ellie was.

Despite being busy taking care of her own family, when her mother (my grandmother) was ill and lived with my Aunt Carol for a time, Ellie would go to her sister Carol's house and clean each week. Aunt Ellie understood family.

Not that she was boring -- her brothers, especially Larry, loved to tease her, and she always took it in good stride. She was the 6th (I think) of 8 children, and it is a surprise that she is the first of those children to go.

I'm sure I'll think of more to write about Aunt Ellie, but it is late, and my bed is calling out to me. Tonight, I'll hope to dream of being at Aunt Ellie's house again. For me, it was a little slice of heaven here on earth. She, however, is now in a place that is exponentially more beautiful than that -- I can hardly wait to see her again.