Amidst the mornings where I wearily and sleepily was shuffling off to work, I stopped, lifted my eyes to the beauty that filled the morning sky, took a long deep breath, and left for work, reminded that each morning, the moon lingers for just a moment, but then returns to the heavens, as the sun begins to rise. It never fails. Both the sun and moon move through their respective phases, just as God created them to do so.


And then there's this gem. I took this picture shortly after I moved home from Oklahoma. I was milling about the house one evening, when the beautiful lights of the sky caught my eye, and I wandered out onto the back deck. The most breathtaking sunset decorated the skyline on our back acreage. It brought tears to my eyes, as I gazed, once again, at the handiwork of my Heavenly Father. I see this sunset, and I'm reminded again of the sun, and its faithful movements, from rising in the morning, to setting at night, as the moon moves into its place.

So much has changed in the past month, and here on this Tiny Island, much has changed in the last five years, since I last lived here. Time has passed. People have changed. Situations have changed. Relationships have changed. I have changed. While, in this season of grieving, I don't necessarily feel as though I've changed, indeed, I have. And sometimes the constant change that surrounds me, much of, really all of which is out of my control, overwhelms my heart. I've never been one who likes change, and I find it difficult to adapt to so much change in such little time. But adapt, I certainly must, and grow, I absolutely will. And in the meantime, I will remember the "constants" in my life. I will remember that the sun will rise and set each day, that the moon will take its place at night, and welcome the sun back in the morning, even when the clouds block their visibility, they most certainly there.

I will remember the One who is constant, the One who gave His life for me, the One who has carried me through this season of transition. Even when I don't see Him, or feel Him, He has been there. He was there when I celebrated my last Sunday in OKC. He was there when I held my corps family in my arms, and shed so many tears of sadness, as we parted ways. He was there when I cried tears of joy, as I was reunited with my family, and as He provided a job just a few short days after returning home. He has been there in every challenge I've encountered, as I navigate a new job, new responsibilities, new coworkers, a new work culture. He has been there in the loving understanding of my new Corps Officers, as I had to openly admit that I am experiencing burnout, and needed to take a step back from ministry, as I heal and as I navigate this season of transition. He was there this morning, as I sat in church, and I finally allowed myself to be broken in His presence, to allow tears of fear, of anger, of sadness, and even of peace, stream down my face, as I heard the words, "It's no longer I that liveth, but Christ that liveth in me!" being sung by the worship team, and I felt an intense wave of homesickness for my OKC family (That was a song we often sung during our Sunday School preliminaries at OKC Citadel).

God has been constant, and present, even when I haven't been, and in this season of transition and restoration, God showed me today that this season will involve my becoming reacquainted with Him, knowing Him as, not only the God I serve, but the God who loves me, who calls me "deeper still into love," as Chris Tomlin sings in his song, "Good Good Father." (Which I listened to on repeat, as I drove to church, this morning.)

Friends, you have allowed me to invite you into a mere piece of my journey. Thank you for allowing me to be a little more transparent, a little more real and raw than I have, before. Writing and reflecting has been so key in my healing during this season of transition, and being able to have you follow this journey has assured me that there are dear ones who support me, stand with me, and lift me up in prayer. Please continue to do so.

Here's to many more brave steps forward, many more sunrises and sunsets, and many more encounters with the faithful, constant and everlasting God.

Blessings.

Last night was a strange night. I had a full day of training for my new job, had dinner with my aunt, and went home. It wasn't until I was sitting in my living room, in my PJ's, with our little dog traipsing about at my feet, that reality hit me: it was Wednesday evening, which meant that OKC Citadel's youth and music programs were beginning for the year, in fact, were already in full swing (remember, I'm now two hours ahead of OKC in PEI).

Most would feel elated at the idea of a free evening. I, however, felt lost. The familiarity of routine and fellowship with my corps family that I once had, was suddenly gone. I didn't know what to do with myself, other than, amidst the pain in my heart, to pray for my corps family.

Embracing a "new normal," and following God's leading, unfortunately, is not always how we'd like it to be, or how we think it should be. I knew the day I sat in my corps officer's office and uttered the words of my decision to move home that it was indeed God's leading that brought me to such a decision, and I was excited at the thought of being home with my family and friends, again; but with this new chapter came the pain of saying goodbye to my beloved "Okie Family," the challenge of starting fresh with a new job, entering back into a culture I haven't been part of for several years, leaving behind all that has been familiar to me for almost five years.

But I'm slowly learning, through this time of transition, that it's okay to move on. And it's okay for my corps family to move on. It's okay for me to be sad, and it's okay to miss being part of that family; but it's also okay for me to be happy when that family has success, and grows together, to pray them through periods of growth and struggle. I can move on and still carry that sweet family in my heart.

But...it's also okay for me to be part of a corps family, here in Charlottetown. It's okay to grow with them, to rejoice with them, to pray with them, just as I did in OKC. It's okay to move on.

I have a wise and dear friend who told me recently, "Give yourself the gift of time and you will soon realize that what now feels unfamiliar will have become a comfy soft sweater wrapped around you." I'm learning to give myself this gift of time. Time to adjust to my new job (knowing that I don't have to know everything right away). Time to grieve. Time to rest. Time to share with my family and friends. Time to make new friends, and to reconnect with others. Time to connect, even reconnect, with God. Time to establish a new routine. Time to adjust to, and to embrace, this "new normal." 

And again, as I'm closing this entry, as it has come back to me many times before, the words of a well-known hymn return to me: 

Trusting as the moments fly,
Trusting as the days go by,
Trusting Him, whate’er befall,
Trusting Jesus, that is all.

The brave steps continue...one at a time. Please hold me close in prayer.

Blessings.

Ever burst into tears, after a shopping trip? Well, I never thought I would do such a thing; but I felt the hotness of the tears welling up in my eyes, as I attempted to navigate a grocery store I once knew so well. All of a sudden, it was foreign to me.

Where do I find the almond milk? Where do I find tortillas? What kind of salsa is sold here? It wasn't until I walked through the tea aisle and found my favorite tea -lady grey- that I could feel some of the panic subside. Ever hold a box of tea close to your chest, like a security blanket? I never thought I would do such things, until I found myself in that very place, clutching the one shred of familiarity I possessed close to my heart. 

I never understood culture shock, and I remembered hearing about the experiences my missionary friends would have, similar to mine, upon returning from overseas. I never thought that I would be able to relate to these experiences; but as I stood in the middle of that grocery store, those experiences appeared to be all-too-familiar to me. All of a sudden, in the middle of the tea aisle, I began to second-guess every capability I possess.

"How am I ever going to adapt to a brand new position?" My mind pondered. "How am I going to do anything, when I can't even get through a grocery store without crying?" I wondered. "Am I going to be okay?" My heart cried out to the Lord, as I sat in my car, sobbing.

Then I remembered: the tea. That shred of familiarity brought me back, as if the Lord was taking me gently on the shoulder. I remembered that I have only been home for less than a week. I remembered that discouragement is not of God, and that I must stamp it out at once.

I remembered that I am capable, because my Heavenly Father is able. More than able. 

This season of navigating culture shock is going to take time. Adapting to life in a place that was once familiar, but is not-so-familiar right now, is going to take time. Adapting to a new job with a new company, is going to take time. But I am capable of these things, because my Heavenly Father is "more than able to accomplish what concerns me today."

I am incredibly thankful for those words penned by Rory Noland. Those were the very same words that I sang on my last Sunday in OKC. I had no idea just how much they would impact me during this season of transition. 

I am capable, because my Heavenly Father is more than able.

So I hold on right to my Lady Grey Tea, and I hold fast to the promises of my Heavenly Father, as I continue to walk through this season of transition. 

Here's to more brave steps forward. 

Blessings.

30 days. 30 days from tonight, I will be home in Canada.

As the days wind down, I still feel a variety of emotions. I am still very excited about being home with my dearly-loved family; but my heart also hurts a great deal at the thought of leaving my beloved Southern Family.

Yesterday, I continued on my journey of bidding farewell to dear ones whom I may not see again for some time. It was hard, there is no denying that; but I can't help but reflect in gratitude, as I think of the growth I've experienced over this past year. At this time, last year, a transition like the one I'm walking through would have wore me out and destroyed my days, emotionally and spiritually. Yesterday, I feared that this would happen once again, as I bid farewell to my dear friend, Major Leisa Hall. You see, the last time I had to say goodbye to my friend, as she was being moved from Oklahoma City to a new appointment in Florida in 2012, I was wrecked emotionally, physically and spiritually for days and months to follow. My depression deepened, I comforted myself with food, and I wondered where on earth God was in the midst of such hurt and separation.

Not this time, though...not this time.

Saying goodbye to my dear friend was, naturally, very difficult. I shed many tears, as I gave my friend one last hug. I gave myself space to feel the emotions of sadness, I prayed, I found my footing, emotionally, and I walked on to Chorus rehearsal, and on to the rest of my day.

Growth, and the grace of God. That's what I'm experiencing, this time around.

So tonight, my heart is a little heavy, and I am a little anxious about the future; but with God's help, these feelings will not consume me...

"We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.

We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed."  ~ 2 Corinthians 4:7-9

Our theme for this year's Territorial Music Institute is "Give God the Glory," and tonight, as I prepare to lay my head down, I can testify that my ability to walk through these next 30 days in a healthy and whole manner will occur only by the grace and the power of God. He alone has been the One to lead me through my journey thusfar, and I am trusting that He will continue to lead me through the next 30 days of packing, finishing, worshipping, and bidding farewell, among many other things.

Here's to the next 30 days, and here's to the continued faithfulness of God.

Blessings.

"Jesus told them another parable: 'The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.

“The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’

‘An enemy did this,’ he replied.“The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’

‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.’”

For me, this past year has involved a great deal of "burning away weeds." I've had to allow God to burn away so much that has been keeping me from growing into a healthy and whole person: unhealthy habits, negative patterns of thinking about others and about myself, and so much more.

There's nothing lovely about this process, I'm afraid. We often romanticize the concept of "laying our all at the altar," but have we stopped for a moment to realize just what that means? Laying my all at the feet of Jesus meant coming to grips with my sin, with my avoidance, with the things that could separate me from my Heavenly Father, things that could cause a forest fire to burn out of control and destroy me. It meant surrendering control. It meant that I had to come clean, so that Jesus could wash me clean.

Being refined is messy, requires work, and requires a lot of heat.

But oh, the beauty and the freedom that comes when we allow our Savior to do so.

I think, for the first time in a while, I'm beginning to understand the price of holiness. Allowing myself to be refined and to have chaff and weeds burned away, and to have dead branches pruned (I'm becoming more and more intrigued by how many times Jesus talked about gardening and agriculture in order to teach about holiness!), this all requires sacrifice. Holiness requires a lot of letting go of the things that are not good for us, and trusting that our Heavenly Father knows what's best for us.

This process of "controlled burns" and refining has been challenging, in every sense of the word. Some days, I find myself exhausted by the process, and just wish that I could get to the end result, right away. I was reminded today about the need to set these "controlled burns" in motion, to prevent a wild fire from spreading. I must be patient with the process, and trust in the skillful hand of my Savior. When I allow Him to burn away the weeds, and feed me with His Truth, I will grow stronger, more beautiful and healthy than ever before. I am trusting Him to do this.

Tonight, I am holding fast to 1 Peter 1:6-7...

"So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you must endure many trials for a little while. These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world." 

Blessings.

​
The grueling task of sorting and packing continues. It has amazed me, over and over, just how much I have accumulated over the past four-and-a-half years. That being said, there is something freeing about being able to simplify and to pair down.

As I was sorting through some papers and bric-brac, I came across more cards from precious folk and prayer supporters. The card pictured above is a card that was given to me by the staff of The Salvation Army Charlottetown Community Church, my home corps where I soldiered, and also where I served as Community Ministries Coordinator, prior to moving to Oklahoma.

As I read the sweet notes from sweet friends and co-workers, my mind was flooded with the memories of those last days spent with my friends and family, before I packed my life into three suitcases, bound for Oklahoma. And in that moment, I noticed the similarity between how I felt the day I received that card, and how I am feeling now, as I prepare to move back home to Canada. I felt many of the same emotions I'm feeling now. See, it was a difficult decision to pack up my life to move to Oklahoma, four-and-a-half years ago. I was incredibly excited to embark on this new adventure; but I was also nervous, a bit anxious, and sad to leave my family and dear friends behind. I was moving to another country, to a state with which I had little familiarity. I was unsure of what was to come, only knowing to put one foot in front of the other.

But I bravely took a step of faith that could only be orchestrated by my Heavenly Father. That step resulted in a four-year adventure. That step resulted in a story of joy, tears, growth and victory, where I became part of a much larger Family of God. That step resulted in the building of beautiful friendships with so many different people. That step resulted in my coming face-to-face with personal and spiritual challenges that I was running away from, previously. That step brought me to where I am, now: walking in victory, taking steps of obedience in accordance with my Father's will for my life, and growing more and more into the woman He created me to be. That step brought forth a testimony that boasts the faithfulness and the goodness of God.

I remember many of the feelings I felt the day I received that card from my precious corps family. In a few short weeks, I will be receiving cards and well-wishes from people who have impacted my life in incredible ways, since I moved to Oklahoma four-and-a-half years ago...and I'm sure I'll be feeling many of those same feelings, much like I am feeling, today. But I am also holding close to my heart, this day, the feeling of victory, and the promise that my Abba is faithful, and He is good, and He is orchestrating my steps toward my home and native land, just as He orchestrated my steps to move here to Oklahoma. Through tears and uncertainty, through joy and laughter, in these last days with my sweet Okie friends and family, I will hold fast to my Father's hand, knowing that He is with me.

Blessings.

This past Friday morning, I was getting ready to go to work. I set my coffee cup on the roof of my car, as I loaded my bags. Distracted by something in my car, I forgot the cup, climbed in, started my car and drove off. It wasn't until I pulled away from the apartment complex, about 100 yards down the drive, that my stomach wrenched, as I reached for my coffee cup that was not in its usual spot, in the cupholder, next to my emergency brake. It hit me: the cup is still on the roof of my car, or, at least I HOPE it's still there!

I pulled my car to a stop, bracing myself for the possible scene of shards of my beloved coffee cup and sweet nectar of coffee all over the ground. I was shocked and delighted, as I hopped out of my car and saw the cup, still filled with coffee, sitting on the roof of my car. Amazing!

It's funny how we care so deeply for the little things in our day-to-day life. I was reminded by my Corps Officer, Major Paul, last week, of how much God cares for us, and that He wants us to seek Him, in prayer, even for the small things that may seem insignificant to us.

Now, would I have survived the loss of a coffee cup? Of course. But the thing is, God used that as a perfect opportunity to remind me of how He provides. Seeing that coffee cup resting unscathed on the roof of my car reminded me of the extent of God's provision, from the incredibly huge to the incredibly small. I was taken directly to Matthew 6:25-34:

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

As I continue to make steps toward my home and native land, and as I disturb the familiar by venturing to the unfamiliar, I must trust my Heavenly Father to provide, as I walk in obedience. Little things like a spared coffee cup remind me that He can be trusted. As the song says, "O, for grace to trust Him more!"

So onward I venture, one obedient step at a time. Please keep me in your prayers, as I do so.

Blessings.

Jesus called his twelve disciples together and gave them authority to cast out evil spirits and to heal every kind of disease and illness. Here are the names of the twelve apostles:

The speaker asked the listener to consider what it is like to hear people dear to you call your name. I was then prompted to meditate on how it would feel to hear our Savior call our name. I had never really considered that, before, because I've never actually heard God speak to me in an audible voice. But when I thought about how it would feel to hear Him call me by name...there is something about that that absolutely stirs my soul, and makes me want to sit at His feet. Because, when He calls my name, Scripture tells us in Isaiah 43:1 that God says, "...you are mine." I will need to sit with that, just a little longer. But I will go on.

The speaker then encouraged the listener to take a moment, and listen for just what God may be calling us to. So I asked Him, "God, what are You calling me to, right here, right now?" The answer was simply one word: Abide.

I shook my head for a second, and thought, "O...kay? What on earth does that mean?"

I did what I've been doing a lot of lately: I went to my dictionary and looked up the word Abide. And if you're silently judging me for having to look it up, right now, go ahead and give me a definition, off the top of your head...Uh-huh. That's what I thought. Not as easy as we thought it was.

So, abide is defined this way: "To accept or bear; to stay or live somewhere; to remain or continue."

But there's a little more to this definition: "To wait for; to endure without yielding; to bear patiently; to accept without objection."

And the one which really grabbed my attention: "To acquiesce in (submit, comply or accept)."

That very simple word has so much meaning for me. See, abiding, for me, is so much more than remaining, or enduring without yielding, or bearing patiently; for me, abiding means submitting, accepting without objection.
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways, submit to him, and he will make your paths straight." -Proverbs 3:5-6

For me, abiding involves my ears and heart being tuned to hear God's Voice, and staying close to His heart and mind through the reading of His Word, and through communication with Him through prayer. This type of abiding will allow me to hear when He is speaking, when He is calling my name, and when He tells me what to do next, when to take the next step, I can respond by doing just that, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. I can disrupt the familiar, and I can walk forward into the unfamiliar, not with fear and dread, but with anticipation and joy, because I am confident that my Savior is leading the way.

I shared on Facebook this afternoon that God is calling me, "...out of the bud, to take steps, one at a time, so that I will blossom into a woman who reflects her Father's image." The words in the photo above were given to me today to consider. I am holding tightly to this calling, from God, in this moment, to abide. For today, and for tomorrow, and for the next day, I am purposing to follow this calling, out of the bud, taking steps, as He directs, as He calls my name, so that I will continue to blossom. Even when it's hard. Even when it hurts. But also, even when it causes me joy, and to sing, and to dance, because it's the work of my faithful Abba.

Here's to disrupting the familiar, and to blossoming, one obedient step at a time.

Blessings.