Breathing Hope

March 16, 2016February 18, 2017 Jerusha Borden1 Comment

I am slowly dying. I guess, in a way, we all are. But some die sooner than others. I guess the worst part of an uncertain future is not knowing when it is coming. And wanting so desperately for more time…

I recently found out that my lymphatic system has been compromised. I knew this day was coming, I did. It just was not as far off as I had hoped and dreamed it would be. I mean, I could see what was happening to my body. Every new ache and pain squeezing away more time, bit by bit. Every time I noticed my legs were bigger, I knew. It wasn’t that I was turning a blind eye. It was just that I was not ready to face the truth of the situation. So I continued on, covering my legs with something that made me happy like a funky leopard print blanket or wearing long pants in the blazing summer sun just so I wouldn’t have to look at them. Because sometimes, it just hurts.

Comments from people who do not know me or my situation hurt. I try not to think about them or let them get to me, but words are powerful and they sting. I still remember overhearing someone I thought was my friend say if they ever looked like me they would jump off a bridge. Yikes. Am I really that offensive? I don’t feel like it. I wish I could express how I feel about myself in words, but sometimes that is not possible. So, here it is…

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then these are my words. I feel like a skinny woman trapped inside the body of someone I do not know. Many times I have walked by a mirror only to catch a glimpse of myself and think, is that what I really look like? My insides do not match my outsides. Sometimes I feel like my body is a prison and I can never escape.

Deep down, I know that is not true. My body may be a prison full of pain, but it will never hold me forever. It is not death to die. It is life for me. I can tell you this with absolute certainty – because of Christ, I have been made new. My spirit – my very soul – will one day match my body. And it won’t be riddled with pain or massive adipose tissue. Thank you, Jesus! It is on the hardest days when my heart is aching with the thought of living like this for one more minute that You pour into me this truth.

Yes, I am slowly dying. I do not know how long this life will be. But I do know my strength is failing. In church on Sunday, standing at the front of the church leading worship with some wonderful friends, I nearly broke down and wept as I struggled to sing these words:

Bless the Lord, O my soul

O my soul

Worship His Holy name

Sing like never before

Oh my soul

I’ll worship Your holy name

And on that day when my strength is failing

the end draws near and my time has come

still my soul with sing your praise unending

10,000 years and then forever more

My soul does sing. It sings in the brokenness. It sings through the pain. It sings in the uncertainty. It sings and sings and sings.

And while my soul is singing, I see glimmers of hope. I encounter someone in a smilliar situation as me. While outwardly she looks worse for wear, she is walking on her own two feet unassisted. I walked away with my soul singing even louder, shouting praise as God breathed more hope into this weary body.

I am slowly dying. I do not know if the days will be long or if they will be short. And so I savour every moment with such joy. The treasure of my children. The mundane tasks of cleaning mud stains out of spring jackets can be a little bit sweeter now. The soft touch of a husband I desperately hope I won’t have to leave behind too soon. Cherishing every moment. Every phone call from every loved person. Every situation good or bad is a situation I can be thankful for because it is a situation I am LIVING in. Alive. Breathing hope.

Thank you Jesus, for these moments. Thank you for being Hope.

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Euthanasia vs. Pallative Care

February 9, 2016March 6, 2017 Jerusha Borden3 Comments

Canada is revisiting the topic of euthanaisa this year, by fleshing out the details of this new law. Doctor assisted suicide and all the pros and cons of such a powerful decision is again on the table. I have two different points of view on this topic both as someone who lives with severe chronic pain and also as someone who has worked in palliative care.

First, let’s talk about the alternative to euthanasia ~ palliative care. Essentially, this service is only available to people with a terminal illness who have an expected time frame of death. Those patients who have about three months to live. I can’t tell you what it is like to be there, because that is not my story. But I can tell you what I do know, from the perspective of the staff. I can tell you what you don’t see when you think of palliative care.

You don’t see the daily staff meetings where the team gathers to talk about each individual patient. A team made up of doctors, nurses, social workers, chaplains, and hospice workers all addressing individual needs. In such meetings they discuss pain management and the dosages required to make each patient comfortable yet still having the ability to maintain their quality of life. They discuss how to make them comfortable on every level – physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Every single morning they meet to update and accomodate their plan for every change that may have occurred in the past 24 hours.

You don’t see how the doctors and nurses manage their pain – constantly checking in on them to make sure they are comfortable and if necessary providing what they call “breakthrough medications” which are specific dosages that are preapproved to use to break through their pain to provide relief and comfort. For every patient.

You don’t see the social workers on the phone or at their computers working hard to secure and provide support to patients and families in whatever way is necessary. These professionals that put in endless hours to support these families both before and after the patient dies.

You don’t see the chaplains, the pastors and spiritual leaders who pop in and out. Those who come when they are called in at that last minute. Or those who have been there to pray with the patient and their family the whole time. Those who come just to hold someone’s hand, or read through the Bible with them. These wonderful people who deeply care. Who often will help plan a funeral service with the patient while they are still alive. Those who are shadows of Christ in a heartbreaking time.

You don’t see the hospice workers who provide care inside and outside of the hospital. Those who assist families in gathering what they will need to keep their loved ones at home while they can – hospital beds, linens, commodes, whatever they need. These people who work tirelessly arranging support and care for those who need it. These people who guide and assist families in the palliative care process from arranging care to providing support and direction in planning funerals or memorials, to assisting with executors of estates and all that entails.

You don’t see the volunteers. These people whose hearts are full and whose hands are never empty. Reading to patients while family members take some much needed respite. Baking in the palliative care unit’s kitchen, a homey looking place that fills the floor with comforting smells and allows the patients and their families to indulge in something special. Volunteers who stop to give out hugs or lend a shoulder to cry on. Volunteers who are the heart of palliative care.

Dying with dignity? I see that in palliative care. Some may argue that palliative care is not appropriate end of life care because terminally ill patients are so medicated they are essentially comatose. I can tell you that is untrue. I can tell you because I have held the hands of the dying. I have talked to them. I have read to them. There were some who were distressed, but for the most part, these patients where comfortable and at peace.

Choosing when to end your life is a little bit like playing God to me. I know there have been reports of people recently in the U.S. who have chosen when to die and who have decided the day and the time. They have taken a lethal dosage of something and slipped away surrounded by family members. But did they rob themselves? Did they make a mistake?

Let us look to Job, a wonderful Biblical example of a man who suffered. He suffered not only physiacally with severe skin diseases and much pain, but emotionally as well. He witnessed the death of his family members. He suffered financially with the loss of his livelihood. Do you know what it says in Job? Let’s take a look at Job 2:9-10. “His wife said to him, ‘Are you still trying to maintain your integrity? Curse God and die.’ But Job replied, ‘You talk like a foolish woman. Should we accept only good things from the hand of God and never anything bad?’ So in all this, Job said nothing wrong.” Job could have given in and quickly put an end to his misery. But he acknowleged who God is and says in Job 14:5, “How frail is humanity! How short is life, how full of trouble! We blossom like a flower and then wither. Like a passing shadow, we quickly disappear. You have decided the length of our lives. You have know how many months we will live, and we are not given a minute longer.”

Even still, one could argue that by participating in euthanasia, that God would already know the date of their death. However, Exodus 20:13 clearly instructs that we should not murder. Even though suicide aND assisted suicide is not illegal in our country, it is still a sin in the eyes of God. Sometimes our society legalizes things that go against God’s laws. As Peter teaches us in Acts 5:29, “We must obey God rather than human authority.”

In the meantime, God has blessed many people with the skills and heart they need to make it their profession to assist the dying. Not to kill them. Not to end their life, but to help them be at peace while they died. The more I think about it, the more I know that is what I would want. I do live with chronic pain, and while it is not terminal, I do know this disease will end my life. Unless, of course, the Lord has other plans. I don’t know if I will die from an accident, or from cancer, or from my current prognosis of lipedema which will eventually, at some unknown date, squeeze around all my organs, suffocating them and causing them to shut down.

You know what, though? When it is my time to die, I can guarantee you it will be orchestrated by God and not by me. I would rather live in chronic pain than schedule a death date. And if I were to receive a prognosis of three months or less, I know where I would be. I would be surrounded by my family and a whole team of people who care so I can rest comfortably and say goodbye. That is a beautiful way to die.

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Divine Appointments

February 6, 2016March 6, 2017 Jerusha Borden3 Comments

My mind is a jumbled mess. I will be doing the laundry or laying in bed when random words pop into my head. Existentialism. Sesquipedalian. Dogmatism. When my mind is empty, these words fill it up. And it’s exhausting. I used to be an educated woman, once upon a time. Maybe I still am. But all I feel is tired.

If I take a step back, I still know what those words mean. I don’t really believe in existentialsim. I have the potential to be a sesquipedalian but I am way too tired for that now, and it really seems so pompous anyhow. And dogmatism is some theological thing I suffered through back in college that I found extremely boring at the time.

As I sit here folding laundry the words keep coming and I can’t shut them off. Words that taunt me. Words that make me feel like I should be doing something else with my life. But that’s not right, is it? Because, I believe God has placed me here.

We make our own plans for ourselves sometimes, don’t we? Amazing and grand plans that we have for our life, but when it eventually unfolds life is nothing like we expected. If your life is actually how you planned it, that’s amazing and you are one of the few. “People may make plans in their minds, but the Lord decides what they will do.” Proverbs 16:9 (NCV).

That verse makes me smile because it is so my life. I had so many grand plans to just do and be. Do things that I thought would make me great. Be someone successful. God had other plans, and so I sit sorting and folding laundry and thinking of words from my past.

Because there is peace in knowing you are living in God’s planned path. There is peace in doing that, and in being that person. That is more freeing than existentialism. That is more important than being like a sesquipedalian shooting smart and educated words around. I am sure that is better than dogmatism too, because you’re doing what God wants for your life and not concerning yourself about being right without evidence or concern of circumstance. It’s just being with God. Listening to and obeying His divine appointments.

My divine appointments? They are so simple. Making a cake for my family to enjoy after I’ve seen them out shovelling our driveway full of snow, and the neighbours too. Looking around at my tidy house and noticing the children have done an exceptional job on their chores. And that little whisper that says bake the cake. And so I bake it.

My divine appointments can be blessings. Like working in a job that is below my experience, because God handed it to me. That job? It’s the perfect fit. I can leave in a flash to go and deal with my children should need be, without consequence. There’s really no job like that.

My divine appointments can be complicated too. When I got married, the plans I had made was to work in a job that would make me a career woman. Instead, we had a blessing pregnancy – immediately. Unplanned, but perfectly planned by God. That whisper of stay home, stay home was so difficult to listen to. But oh, how I needed to say home for the unexpected things that were to come. The autism diagnosises. The heartache. The need for a mother to be a focal point, to be available, to be as reliable as the rising sun.

Sometimes, my mind can be a jumbled mess of words from my past. Words from my present. Words. But when I hear those words and they taunt me, evoking regret – I stop. I pause and remember those divine appointments of the past – those whispered words I have listened to and the path they have taken me on. So I pause and pray and am thankful and ready for the next ones.

Until then, I’ll be folding laundry. Cooking dinner, sweeping floors, baking cakes. Doing something mindless because that’s something I’ve been chosen by God to do.

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Where Are You, God?

January 31, 2016February 18, 2017 Jerusha BordenLeave a comment

It’s easy to see disaster. Everywhere you look there seems to be something terrible happening. Whether it be globally with natural disasters, federally with the state of the economy, something closer to your own town, or even in your own home. Trouble seems to find its way into every day living.

Sometimes when you are feeling down and out, and worrying about what is going to happen next or how you are going to deal with what is happening now, you wonder. Where are you, God? Can you see me? Are you even watching what is going on? Do you even care?

Or maybe you do know He is listening. Maybe you just don’t think He cares about what is happening in your life because you think He only cares about huge issues like earthquakes and wars. Or about bigger health problems like cancer or another terminal illness.

Psalm 77:8-9 show us a little piece of the writer’s heart. Today, we’re going to look at how he felt here – how he was feeling like God didn’t care. He was basically asking, where are you, God?

“Has His unfailing love vanished forever?

Has his promised failed for all time?

Has God forgotten to be merciful?

Has He in anger withheld his compassion?”

The writer of this psalm was feeling pretty lousy. Maybe he was wrought about the circumstances of his life. Maybe he was devastated by the state of the place where he lived. Whatever the case, he was feeling that God wasn’t very compassionate. He was thinking perhaps God didn’t really care.

I know I have been there. I am sure you have been there too. It’s hard to see the hand of God in the every day sometimes, isn’t it? I mean, let’s just be real. When you are deep in the middle of a rotten day where things just keep stacking up it is hard to see the hand of God. When you’re listening to a friend share about a troubling time in her life and you can’t even find the words to say, it’s hard to see the hand of God. When circumstances in life are mounting and things just keep getting worse and worse it is hard to see the hand of God.

It would be sad if that is where the psalm ended, but thankfully, it’s not. This psalmist knew that even though he just wasn’t feeling it that moment – that God was bigger than that. He was more than how the writer of this psalm was feeling. All he had to do was take a little look back over what God had done for him in the past. Remember. Verses 10-12 say this:

“Then I thought, ‘To this I will appeal:

The years when the Most High stretched out His right hand.

I will remember the deeds of the Lord;

yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.

I will consider all your works

and meditate on all your mighty deeds.”

I think we can all take a page from this psalmist’s play book here. God doesn’t forget to be compassionate. It’s just sometimes, His compassionate hand is a little harder to recognize. Because sometimes, when we step back and take a deep breath, we can see a little glimpse of Him. In a phone call from a friend. In the worship song you hear at Starbucks, of all places. In a long hug from someone who cares about you. And when you can step back and see a glimpse of God’s hand in your situation, it pulls you to His Word. And then when you read his word, it seems like it is going to be okay.

There’s so much more to unpack here. But for today, let’s just remember this. When we start to think He doesn’t care, perhaps it’s because we haven’t been giving Him the time that He deserves. Perhaps we’ve pulled back from reading our Bible or attending church. Maybe it just feels like routine. But here’s the thing…the more we spend time in the word, the more evident it will be He cares and that He is there. Even in the hardest times.

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It’s Time To Give.

January 2, 2016March 6, 2017 Jerusha BordenLeave a comment

The Syrian refugees have arrived. Some have been here for a few weeks already, and more are expected to reach Canadian soil very soon. With the arrival of these several thousand people come several thousand opinions. People are in an uproar. Most recently, some Canadians are frustrated because the Vancouver Sun released a statement regarding refugee meal allowances. Apparently, the Syrian refugees will receive an allowance per person of $15 for breakfast, $17 for lunch, and $30 for dinner per day. Yes, that’s a lot of money for food. But in the midst of the arguing, could we just take a step back and breathe for a moment?

A few weeks ago there was a meme circulating on social media sites comparing the Syrian refugee crisis to that of the refugee crisis in the 1940s following the second world war. As many know, more than 6 million Jewish people were murdered in the war. During those seven years, many had their homes looted and destroyed. Many were thrown out of their homes and had their possessions confiscated by the Germans. At the end of the war, surviving people could not return to their homes or locate missing family members. There were several million people without homes and with nowhere to go. What happened to them? They were refugees desperately seeking to be relocated. Frightened people. People who had lived through terror and had witnessed despicable things. People who needed a new, fresh start. Where did they find it? Canada.

From 1946 to 1962, Canada accepted nearly a quarter million refugees from Europe. They were sponsored by relatives, accepted to be relocated for certain job contracts, sponsored by different churches and religious organizations AND yes, sponsored by the government. Canadians opened their hearts and homes to help the European refugees as best they could. So why can’t we do that again?

Many people argue that the current government is not handling the refugee crisis well and are overspending on the Syrian people. While a new government does have many adjustments to make and many facets to consider, they still abide to the Refugee Convention that Canada has had in place for 45 years. Most importantly, that the Supreme Court of Canada rendered a decision in the 80s that refugees are entitled to fundamental justice under the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

Canada did not stop with the Jewish refugees. Since then it has accepted many more people from many countries, including over 5,000 Kossovars in 1999. We are a country known for freedom, respect for cultural differences, and a commitment to social justice. Canadians are proud to be a peaceful nation. Let’s take a minute to think about that before we lose our minds over the influx of Syrian refugees.

When I think of peace, I think of Jesus. And when I think of Jesus, I wonder what He would say about the Syrian refugees. I don’t need to think too long before I know. Matthew 25: 31-40 says this:

“But when the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit upon his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered in his presence, and he will separate the people as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep at his right hand and the goats at his left. Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.’ Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you a drink? Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!”

If you read the rest of this chapter, you will see that the King will tell those who didn’t help the “least of these” that they are cursed and condemned. Verse 45 says, “I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.” Pretty clear, isn’t it? As followers of Jesus we are called to help others. The King EXPECTS us to use what He has given us for good. Not for ourselves. Not only to buy that big screen TV that was on sale during the Boxing Day sales week.

We have just finished up another wonderful Christmas season. There is something special about Christmas that prompts us all to give. There are collection boxes for food for the hungry and toys for children that might not have a gift to open on Christmas morning. The Salvation Army kettles are out, collecting donations allowing them to carry out all their programs and provide resources to the needy all year long. When Christmas comes, people give. But we were not called to be Christmas Christians, giving only when the season prompts us. We are called to give often. To give always. Proverbs 3:27 -28 says, “Do not withhold good from those who deserve it when it is in your power to help them. If you can help your neighbour now, don’t say ‘Come back tomorrow, and then I’ll help you.'” Similarly, in Acts 20:35, “You should remember the words of the Lord Jesus: it is more blessed to give than receive.”

This new year is a great time to become a regular giver, and we Canadians can start with the Syrian refugees. All over our country there are drives for clothing and household items so that these people can build their new homes. I even read recently about an elementary school hosting a drive collecting school supplies for the Syrian children who will need pencils and books for their new school. It doesn’t take much to find a way to give to help the “least of these.”

As for the government and its monetary promises for aiding the Syrians, remember this: it is not the first time this has happened. The Canadian government has been accepting refugees for years. While we might have extra deficits and the budget might seem a little bit off track, remember the One who holds our entire future in His hands. And remember this wonderful passage in 2 Corinthians 9:6-8. “Remember this – a farmer who plants only a few seeds will get a small crop. But the one who plants generously will get a generous crop. You must each decide in your heart how much to give. And don’t give reluctantly or in response to pressure. ‘For God loves a person who gives cheerfully.’ And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left to share with others.”

We have been blessed to live in a country full of riches. So much so that during the second world war, the Germans called the storage house at Auschwitz, where they sorted possessions of those in the camp before shipping them off to Germany “Canada.” A sobering thought as you reflect at the beginning of this year on how much you truly do have, and how much your heart has prompted you to give. Think of these Syrian refugees as an opportunity to not only share your wealth and possessions, but also an opportunity to share and spread the love of Christ.

It is time to give.

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Running, Bitterness, and Truth

December 7, 2015March 6, 2017 Jerusha Borden1 Comment

My husband is an amazing guy. He’s stuck by my side through thick and thin, as good husbands do. He held my hand during the dreaded autism diagnosis for not one, but both of our children. He held me as I sobbed like the emotional, hot mess I was. He has taken a stand not in front of me, or even behind me, but beside me as we’ve watched my health and especially my mobility deteriorate. He’s dealt with the pieces that fall over the place in this family with heaping doses of grace.

But sometimes that takes a toll on a person. Day after day, the burden can become great. I know this, because I’ve felt it too. Many hard days pass. The burdening of life day after day can be emotionally exhausting. It can break you down bit by bit, piece by piece. I remember praying for something to do to help with the feeling of the broken places in my life – I knew only God could truly fill me up and cover the brokenness. But I fall short, and I wanted something tangible. I found this in creative outlets. First scrapbooking, then card making. I did these for years, and they worked well until they didn’t anymore. I prayed for something new, and unexpectedly found it in crocheting, something I’d decided early on in life I’d never be able to do. Still, I learned and now love the feel of different fibres and yarns as they glide over my hook.

But as I did these things, finding peace in the process, I watched my husband. The strain of life on his shoulders. Every day he would be working, then coming home to his family. He didn’t have any friends close by, so he rarely went out. I prayed over and over for friends for my husband. Last year, he started attending a small group outside of our church that better fit his demanding work schedule, and my prayers were answered. He made friends who shared his faith and cared about him. He became a texter. My heart smiled.

Still, the weight of our life, while lifted by sharing his burdens with his small group friends, was still taking a toll. I encouraged him to find a hobby, something to help him. He wasn’t completely on board with my suggestion, not being a gamer or very into sports. He dabbled in a few things here and there, but nothing stuck. Until now.

My husband is a runner. He loves it. He needs it. And I’m so thankful. But to be honest, I didn’t always feel that way. Watching my husband participate in such a healthy hobby made me feel insecure about myself. My exercise routine isn’t great, thanks to my special circumstances. It makes exercising excruciatingly painful, and I only do it because I have to. There is no joy in it. So watching my husband enjoy a sport so much made my heart ache. I was filled with bitterness. He asked me to come and watch him participate in his first race this summer and I did, but not with a joyful heart. I couldn’t stand the thought of his fellow athletes looking at me in disgust as I cheered him on. But cheer him on I did, and when he unexpectedly placed in the race I did feel proud. But the bitterness was eating at me from the inside out.

He started spending money on his hobby, buying new shoes, clothing and other gear. He joined a group of other believers who meet twice a week to run and fellowship together. The weight of our life was lifting more and more with every passing day. But mine was getting heavier and heavier.

It was difficult for me to listen to him talking about running and races, because I had zero interest in the subject. But he listens to me talk about my crochet projects, and a good marriage is one full of love and respect, so I listened. I even purchased things for him – to help make things easier for running on the dark, wintry nights. Still, my heart needed to change.

So I turned to the One who removes all bitterness, pleading for a change of heart. Honestly? I’m not there yet. He has a Christmas party this week and I’m invited to attend. Just thinking about it, I feel my insecurities are creeping in. They’re all lovely people, but I don’t feel like I’m good enough to sit amongst a bunch of runners and share a meal.

One thing I’m learning is that the only way for my heart to change is to accept some truths about myself and throw out the lies that I’m less of a person because I’m not athletic. At all.

First Truth – The more I compare, the emptier I feel. I don’t like feeling empty. But every time I compare myself to a group of runners, it saps up what fills up my soul. What fills up my soul? My purpose. Which leads me to my next truth.

Second Truth – My value is not found in what I can and can’t do, or how I look or don’t look, but in how Christ sees me and how He defines me. He doesn’t define me as a bitter, empty woman, but as someone who has a specific job to love and encourage others. And you know what? When I do this, I’m filled with joy.

Third truth – When I’m doing my Jesus work, and spending time with Him, there’s no room for bitterness. Enough said.

So, yesterday when my hubby participated in another race, got a silver medal, and had his picture in the paper, I was honest to goodness proud of him. I was able to share in his excitement and not be wrapped up in my own insecurities.

I’m sure he’ll be in more races. In fact, I know he will be, because we were already looking ahead to see what was coming up in the new year. I’m praying that going forward, I’ll remember these truths and be able to cheer him on with a joyful heart. Worrying about him not falling on the ice and seriously injuring himself during his winter runs is another story. I have a feeling God has a lot more work to do on my heart yet. He’s picking up the pieces of our lives and making them fit because that’s what He does. He’s faithful, and I’m thankful.

*Special thanks to Sole2Soul for the pictures!*

Autism · Christmas

A Simple Christmas

December 1, 2015March 6, 2017 Jerusha Borden3 Comments

December has arrived, and with it the bustle of the holiday season. Although, most retailers have been ready for a month now. I remember early in November I was in a dollar store in Ottawa and the Christmas tunes were blaring through the speakers so intensely it made my head spin and left me with a splitting headache.

Sometimes, that is how I feel when it comes to the holidays. Don’t misunderstand me, because I am a Christmas lover. I have always been dazzled by sparkling lights lighting up the dark winter sky. But lately, it has been a lot harder to become dazzled. Christmas always looks like a tornado of good intentions at our house. The excitement and anticipation are there, but most often they don’t unfold as we’d expect.

Take our Christmas tree, for example. This weekend we decided to dust off the totes that hold our Christmas treasures and decorate. We have learned from Christmases past that it is always easier to do all the preparations before involving the children. Assembling the tree, stringing the lights, wrapping the ribbon. All of these things come together before we call the boys in to help us hang the decorations. It never works out as I’d expect. I want to watch as each decoration is removed from the box and marvel at the memories. To look at the ornament that holds a picture of my husband and I when we were dating and smile and the memory of the day we walked for hours in Ottawa during the Tulip festival – but not to get caught up in how much thinner and prettier I looked back then. I want to cherish the sweet handmade ornaments the boys had made over the years, and remember how tiny their hands were when they made them. I want to step back and look at the tree and have it look as beautiful as the trees on my holiday Pinterest board. But you know what? I don’t have a Piterest life.

Instead, our tree looks like a happy afterthought. The decorations are whipped out of the boxes at record speed. Someone shoves the other one away and whines they’re hanging the decorations where the other had wanted to hang theirs. Another decides he likes every decoration on the same branch. As I step back and look at the tree it looks like a hot mess. Lights strung haphazardly, ribbon wrapped to cover connecting cords, but definitely not symmetrical or beautifully placed. Decorations all over the place, but not in a coordinated order. The tree branches itself that don’t expand enough to cover the metal pole that makes up the stem. It isn’t a thing of beauty. But it IS beautiful, because it represents our lives.

I will admit, I used to get caught up in comparisons when it came to the holiday season. Just recently, a friend of mine posted a photo on Facebook of an amazing, Pintrest perfect Christmas tree and fireplace. It looked like something out of a magazine. My first reaction was a twinge of jealousy, because it is the type of decor I would love to display. Several seconds later, I looked up at my tree and smiled. I realized I liked my tree better, because it is mine. Of course it looks the way it looks – that is just so us. It is easy to get caught in the comparison trap, but it steals your joy. And what is Christmas, if not a season of such?

In Curious George: A Very Monkey Christmas, an over excited George wakes up the man with the yellow hat repeatedly, mistakenly thinking it is Christmas morning. After a few days of this, the man decides to make a countdown calendar for George so he could see how many days are left. When George notices there are several days left to go, he lets out a disgruntled noise. The man explains the best part of Christmas are the preparations leading up to it. The movie then continues with various holiday activities the man with the yellow hat and George partake in. But the sweetest part to me is that nothing about their preparations is perfect. That’s a wonderful representation of our lives. No wonder my boys still adore Curious George. (And why I have seen this so many times I can narrate it from start to finish!)

Yes, there is joy in the imperfect.There is also joy in simplicity. And that is my wish for this Christmas season. What does simplicity look like at Christmas? Making time for things that are important and less difficult and cutting out the rest.

Every other year, the Santa Claus parade is on our side of the city. In past years, we would attend the parade when it was in our area. We would bundle up and stand outside waiting for a glimpse of the floats as they went by. This year? We decided to stay home and watch a Christmas movie while eating a take out pizza. It is so difficult for our children to participate in any events past 6 p.m. Their behaviour gets the better of them and we have a greater risk of public meltdowns. We just don’t need that. Sadly, we also had to miss our church’s community Christmas tree lighting. The whole neighbourhood comes out to sing carols, watch as someone plugs in the lights and then celebrate with hot chocolate and cookies. I was more disappointed about missing that event than the parade, but I believe it was much less difficult.

Simplifying things in the home is helpful as well. That silly Elf on the Shelf we discovered a few years ago them jumped on the bandwagon is coming back to haunt me. Oh, how I wish I hadn’t bought one that day. Coming up with new, fresh ideas is like holiday hell. Especially when I have children who remember everything and any day now they”ll say, “she did that last year!” I asked myself why we even do it at our house since we don’t do Santa. What is the point? My husband and I decided Elf on the Shelf is getting a makeover this year. No mischief! She will be focusing on the gift of giving and loving others. I wish I had done this years ago.

Simplifying also helps our family shift the attention back to what Christmas is all about. It i so easy to say “Jesus is the reason for the season,” but it is also so easy to get lost in the commercializaion of Christmas. One way we have helped to combat this is to give five small gifts: a want, a need, a read, a handmade gift, and something that will draw them closer to the Father. They do not go without at Christmas, but there is not a mountain of gifts under the tree. I like it that way. We also started something new this Christmas by doing a devotional advent calendar from Thriving Family. In light off keeping things simple, I didn’t print off the full calendar but just downloaded the devotional portion and bought them a chocolate advent calendar at Walmart. We started it today and it was a nice time of togetherness where we read, reflected and talked about our day.

Keeping Christmas simple is not a new idea. It is not always easy to do with the holiday parties and events we will be invited to. However, when we focus on the greatest gift of Christmas, and less about the decorations and parties, it is easier to breathe and so much less stressful. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see a sign for “instant Merry makers” at Timothy’s and the Gingerbread latte sure looks delicious! But I won’t indulge in the holiday desserts. I will keep it simple.

History

Remember

November 11, 2015March 6, 2017 Jerusha BordenLeave a comment

I wake up in the darkness. I’m not in a room, I’m not in a bed. No blankets, no pillows but for a helmet under my head. It’s my turn to watch and keep others safe. I hear shots in the distance and now I’m awake.

Daybreak brings movement and holding the line. Running scared, running all the time. Bullets are whipping around me and my friends. I hear someone fall, look back and see red. I feel my heart beat in my chest and lungs constrict. I stifle a sob, try to grab him and run. It’s too late, they tell me. Leave him, he’s gone.

Dusk arrives, with it screaming bombs fall from the sky. I wonder if this is the time where I’ll die. Take cover, they tell me. Jump into your fox hole. Praying and shivering, everything is so cold. The ground shakes around me. While in my youth, I suddenly feel old.

Hatred, I feel it. I want them to die. There’s death all around me, it’s hard to get by. The pain that they’ve caused, the loss that I’ve seen. Everything is jaded. Nothing is as it seemed.

Later, in combat I face the enemy. So close, I feel myself quaking in fear. I’ve got the upper hand, watch his life drain away. Overwhelmed by it all, I feel so dismayed. From his hand a picture falls to the floor. I catch a glimpse of it quickly, but see so much more. There’s not much difference between him and me. He also was loved, had a family.

I feel sickened as I sink to my knees in the mud. What is the point of war when all I see is death? Will this be the day I take my last breath? Every day is the same and I wonder if this is what hell is like. I wonder, but there’s not time. It’s time to move on before the enemy strikes.

Nights and days roll into the same. I sleep but I wake when I hear someone call my name. The enemy has surrendered, the war is no more. Rejoicing, but can’t help thinking about what the future has in store. Months pass before its my turn to go home. A long train ride, and I descend all alone. Home.

I wake up in darkness, in a room and a bed. With blankets around me and a pillow under my head. I can’t sleep without dreaming. I can’t close my eyes without seeing. I want to escape, but the visions are clear. And all I can think of is why am I here?

All those years of the fighting and screaming and death. Why am I here when they took their last breath? A hero they call me, but a hero I am not. They died and I didn’t, and so much was lost. The days will pass by but the memories remain. Who will remember? Did they all die in vain?

This is sacrifice.

Remember.

Devotional

Psalm of my Heart

October 27, 2015March 6, 2017 Jerusha BordenLeave a comment

I see him drowning. I watch as he struggles to reach the surface. I watch, and I wish I could save him. But I can’t, and so I watch. Part of me wants to look away. But he is a piece of my soul and my feet are grounded where I stand as if they are part of the earth itself. He will not die. He is resillient. A light will dim in his eyes and in my heart. But it will be temporary – fleeting, like a rainbow after the rain.

I have done this song and dance before. Many times I’ve watched him drowning and prayed for him to swim. Sometimes he does. Other times it is as if the sea swallows him whole and he sinks into the depths. Please don’t let him sink this time…

When he is drowning, does he hear the voice of the One who walked upon the water? Does he cry out to You to save him? My only comfort as I watch him flailing is the same. You can cover us both. You are the only One who can save. And so I turn to You.

Oh, God, my heart is broken. My spirit is defeated like a withering flower on a cold autumn morning that still turns its face towards the sun. Old psalms that cry out to You to defeat the enemy ring true, but there is no enemy. Instead I cry out to You to rescue me from this life. Help me to be grateful for the sunshine AND the rain.

May I praise You in the mourning like I praise You when I am dancing. When I don’t hear You, when I don’t see You, help me still to trust. May I remember it is Your steadfast hand that guides us both through these tender days. That it is You who hears us, who sees us. It is You who loves us both when our feet are failing and our steps don’t seem secure.

You are gentle and kind. You are slow to anger and abounding in love. Help me to mirror You. Oh, how I long to be all of these things. But too often I am not gentle or kind, calm and loving. Change me, Lord. Change him, too.

In these dark moments when the clouds are many and the fog is thick, send Your light. Make it burn ferociously through the clouds so we can take comfort in knowing You are there. You are the Comfort that we seek. Grab hold of our hearts and don’t let them go. Hold on to us so we do not fall.

Uncategorized

How Christians Should Vote

October 17, 2015March 6, 2017 Jerusha Borden1 Comment

In just a few days, Canadians will be voting in another federal election. Tensions are high and more people are deciding it is time to start voting, even if they never have before. While some people vote for a particular party they believe their goals and visions are alligned with, many people are at a loss. Several people I have talked with have expressed discontent with the upcoming election. Someone even said point blankly, “it matters not who is elected in. This country is in dire cicumstances regardless.” So what do we even do?

Fifteen years ago if you had told me I would write about politics, I would have laughed in your face. I was not a fan of politics. I was not a fan of politicians. I hated discussing it, and I think I even vowed I would never vote. I believe I went so far as to say it wasn’t important to me. Oh, how naive I was. I wish I could go back and take some of those words back. Now, I can see the importance of voting. Now I can see that political agendas are actually just things that matter to people who live in Canada. Politicians are just people. And we are all free.

It is nice to live in a country where we are free. Free to say what we want say. Free to practice religion. Free to vote for who we feel compelled to vote for. But while we are free to do all these things according to Canadian law, we have to remember that none of these things are free of consequences.

If you follow my blog, you likely know I am a Christian. All that means is that I have been given a second chance at life because Christ died on the cross for my sins. Being a Christian does not mean that I am perfect. Oh, my how far from perfect I truly am. I keep messing up over and over again. I say things I shouldn’t say. I do things I shouldn’t do. I wish I could be perfect, but I fall short of perfection just like everyone else. Still, I need to try. And when I fail, I need to ask for forgiveness and just keep going.

I have fallen short of perfection in regards to this election. I have lost my cool a time or two. Mostly because I don’t like to be bullied into voting for any particular party. I want to be just like any other Canadian with the freedom to vote for whomever I choose. But like a fellow blogger said this week, I am a Christian first and a Canadian second. As a Christian, I need to live like Christ. I need to be a light to the world. A glowing and reliable light, not a flash of fire that rages and then burns out.

Here is what I know to be true. While exercisng my Canadian rights to freedom, I need to find that balance that comes with freedom in Christ. Freedom in Christ is a pouring out the Spirit, giving me the desire to live the life that He has planned for me. The desire to make choices that are God honouring. Galatians 5:13 says, “for you have been called to live in freedom my brothers and sisters. But don’t use your freedom to satisfy your sinful nature. Instead, use your freedom to serve one another in love.” While arguing with others about the upcoming election, have I been serving others in love? No. I clearly need a lot of work.

Mercifully, there is hope. Hope seems to be a constant theme in my life. So why not apply it to the election, too? Proverbs 3:6 says, “Seek His will in all you do, and He wll show you which path to take.” This is my answer to this election. It is so simple, really. Instead of looking to the politicians for answers, I should be seeking truth in Christ. So this weekend, before the polls open on Monday, I implore you to pray.

“Don’t worry about anything, instead pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.” (Phlippians 4:6-7)

That is my life verse. I need to remind myself of it often. When we are caught in the trappings of this world. When we are lost in political squabbles. When we just do not know how to vote, we can pray. Spirit filled prayer that goes straight from our hearts, to our lips, to the Father. And the best part? Our all knowing God is waiting for us at the other end of this. He already knows who will be the next Prime Minister of Canada. And He’s got a plan.

“If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and He will give it to you. He will not rebuke you for asking. But when you ask Him, be sure that your fath is in God alone. Do not waiver, for a person with divided loyalty is as unsettled as a wave of the sea that is blown and tossed by the wind.” James 1:5-6