Sometimes I miss Danny Orlis. God used him, and the medium that brought him to me, to plant a vision in me. At 11:30 every Saturday morning growing up, I and my siblings gathered in the kitchen. We tuned the family radio to KARI, then shut up and listened to …
I resolve to memorize more Bible passages this year. They grow my spirit. Besides, I have Beans to keep ahead of. Celebration day, feast on the table, house full of people. Five-year-old Butterfly Bean watches me pour out cider. Whispers, “Nana. I have something to tell you.” “Yes?” I reach …
The Zebra Crossing, a sensitively re-furbished century-old Yorkton home, hosts several businesses these days. But I recall it best when customers came for rooibos tea and conversation. Sat at glass tables and tall iron chairs. Ate paninis, gorgeous salads, decadent desserts and spread linen napkins on their laps. The Crossing …
It’s my favourite carol… O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie! Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by. Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light; The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight. Shepherds still …
Grief is an unruly visitor—and even more so, when it drops in near Christmas. Surrounded by the mirth of others, the knife of loss cuts on both sides. For a time, the death of a loved one shuts normal faculties down. Leaves only what’s necessary to survive the next moment: …
One of my favourite friends grew up down South, attending a church called “The Old Regular Baptist Church.” I don’t know if I’d fit in at that church. I’m not old—yet. And I’m not sure what they mean by regular—though I eat a healthy serving of fibre every day. I’m …
Some people think Holly is a fool. Holly is a teacher. Holly is a devout Christ-follower. And Holly, knowingly, married a murderer. In a drug-related incident in his youth, her husband stabbed his drug dealer. The case was clear-cut, and the subsequent life sentence came as no surprise. Chances are, …
Benjamin Bean attended a funeral with me a few weeks ago. During the eulogy and reflective readings he remained stone still, tucked into my side. “Nana,” he whispered, suddenly, softly. Turning to me. “I’ll be sad at your funeral.” The direction of his thoughts startles me often. “That’s okay,” I …
On a recent trip to Ottawa, I wandered over to the Canadian National War Memorial on Parliament Hill. The monument was surrounded by flocks of curious onlookers standing eight or nine deep behind a blockade. A member of Hill security stood on the adjacent road, arms folded, inspecting us. “Move, …
“Nana, am I five now?” my third grandbean, aged a mighty three, asked the other day. “Cuz when I get to five, I can SPEED!” Slow down, child. Just a minute ago, a half-century ago, I was five too. In 1961 the average hourly wage was $1.15. The average annual …
