Photo: Crowsnest Lake
After a downpour in the Pass yesterday, the air was still and smelled so sweetly of pine and new aspen sap. After the storm the lake glistened with hope.
Oh taste and see how gracious the Lord is.
Mother’s Day can be horribly painful for some people.
I held more than one sobbing child in the big rocking chair during the darkest nights of their little lives. More than once I heard, “Why doesn’t my mommy love me?”
As a foster parent my own heart was torn up by the pain of little ones whose mothers chose alcohol or drugs over their kids, and with one exception all of the 24 children who arrived on our doorstep were there because their mothers’ own pain left them with nothing left to give. In the midst of drowning fear and emptiness they forgot their kids. It was hard to forgive them sometimes, but I realized that a person can’t give what they have never received, and these moms needed to be loved themselves.
God understands that too.
“Can a woman forget her nursing child,
that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb?
Even these may forget,
yet I will not forget you. (Isaiah 49:15)
None of us were parented perfectly. Even the most outstanding mother in the world has moments when her own deficits get in the way. That’s when Abba–Daddy-Father God, our Mother, can fill in. The Bible speaks of his gentle nurturing motherliness –something beyond gender.
For thus says the Lord:
“Behold, I will extend peace to her like a river,
and the glory of the nations like an overflowing stream;
and you shall nurse, you shall be carried upon her hip,
and bounced upon her knees.
As one whom his mother comforts,
so I will comfort you;
you shall be comforted in Jerusalem.
You shall see, and your heart shall rejoice;
your bones shall flourish like the grass;
and the hand of the Lord shall be known to his servants,
and he shall show his indignation against his enemies. (Isaiah 66: 12-14)
More than a foster parent he adopts us and makes us full heirs. This is why I love adoption. It is a picture of being chosen and of lives redeemed by a perfect parent –without age limit.
Sometimes he also uses someone else with skin on to be an agent of this grace.
Paul wrote: For we never came with words of flattery, as you know, nor with a pretext for greed— God is witness. Nor did we seek glory from people, whether from you or from others, though we could have made demands as apostles of Christ. But we were gentle among you, like a nursing mother taking care of her own children. So, being affectionately desirous of you, we were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you had become very dear to us. (1 Thessalonians 23: 5-8)
A few years ago I wrote a hymn for Mother’s Day recognizing God as a mother and thanking him for all the “mothers” –biological, fostering, adopting, step-parenting, hosting, caring and mentoring (regardless of gender) he has put in our lives who have nurtured us in some way.
As a Mother
As a mother, on whose bosom,
rests a child in total trust,
so, oh Lord, You love and comfort
‘til our earth-bound fears are hushed.
As a mother guides and teaches
little children to obey
so, oh Lord, you firmly tell us,
“Listen child to what I say.”
As a mother waits with weeping
for a child who’s gone astray,
so, oh Lord, You wait with longing
‘til we find our homeward way.
As a mother who rejoices
when her child says, “I love you,”
so, oh Lord, Your heart rejoices
when we sing, “We love You too.”
We, your children, come before You
to give honour and to praise.
Thank you for the precious “mothers”
who have shown Your loving ways.
Help us, Lord, to love and nurture
those entrusted to our care,
‘til as one united family
we will live together there.
(suggested tune setting: The Welsh folksong, “Suo-Gan” )
God is good.
Photo: bleeding hearts in my garden
Yesterday, in the wee hours, I was rushed to the hospital with a medical crisis. The hospital staff was wonderful and within minutes an I.V. dripped relief into my arm. I won’t deny that I was in a lot of pain -excruciating pain. I was moaning and writhing and praying but I wasn’t afraid. I knew what caused the pain. I had experienced this scenario before and since capable people moved quickly to help and I knew we wouldn’t be hit with a big medical bill (oh God, thank you for Canadian healthcare!) I could patiently (or semi-patiently) endure.
By evening I was home and still a little stoned on morphine, but doing quite all right. I debated about whether I really needed to swallow the pain meds I was given before I went to bed, but I decided it wouldn’t hurt to get some sleep, so I did.
When I awoke I had a horrendous headache, my hands and face and throat were swollen and I felt like I couldn’t get enough oxygen.
I was afraid.
It’s one thing to trust and patiently endure pain when you are fairly certain of a positive outcome eventually. It’s another when you have no idea what’s happening. This is not the time to introduce yourself to God or to re-new acquaintances. This is a moment when all you can do is squeeze out a “HELP!!” kind of prayer.
Obviously I’m OK now. I’m sitting here listening to Fernando Ortega, drinking Earl Grey tea, and posting a photo I took this afternoon of some of some bleeding heart flowers by my window. Their hearts open wide to sing his praise. God is good.
And if I had been sitting in heaven drinking tea with Jesus instead, he would still be good. My heart opens wide to sing his praise. Allelu.
Let us who are afraid find refuge in Christ and redemption assured in His name.
By day and by night we delight in His love and forever His words will remain.
Sing allelu, we rejoice in Your love Most High…
Fernando Ortega sings “Allelu” from The Odes Project -from the oldest collection of hymns of the early church set to new music:
Photos: Balsamorhiza saitatta (Click on photos for larger images)


In the mountains spring is a vertical event.
As the snow melts the flowers suddenly appear on the hillsides climbing higher every day.
I wait all winter for the sunflowers to appear on Eager Hill. I’ve been out of town helping to care for a grandchild who had surgery last week (he’s fine, thank you) and I was afraid I had missed it. Last evening I was able to grab my camera and hike up the hill. The sunflowers had waited for me. Spring is rising!
Sometimes we wait in the dark and cold and pray and pray –then suddenly God answers. It’s a season of suddenlies.
Thank you Lord! You are so good!
Arise, shine, for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.
Isaiah 60:1
Painted prayer: The Dream Lives
(Click on photo for larger version)
This painting was for a woman with a broken heart who, at the time, faced going through life without a partner.
She chose to respond by staying up all night and thanking God for every single thing she could think of.
God responded by healing her wounds and sending her a wonderful husband (in a most unlikely way) who has blessed her beyond anything she ever dreamed.
God also healed her of infertility and has given them beautiful children.
God is good.
The Lord is near to the brokenhearted
and saves the crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18