The Rhythms of His Heart

Living in a little farm city for 7 years has me understanding from ‘the outside’ what farm life is actually like. I have farmers who have become dear friends and sometimes when I think about the life of faith and unknowns that they live in I just want to sit and learn from them. It has not been an easy year of harvest (at least here in Manitoba). Many farmer's families, faith and mental capacities have been wearied and tested.  God bless the farmers!  I have sat over the years in a few farmhouses and around their tables. I am excited to think of all the things on their physical piece of land and home that point to spiritual things. It    can be a ‘thin space’ where what happens in the everyday,  ordinary farm workings can speak to our experience of God and His dealings with us. I think maybe this is why I love the way Jesus used parables in teaching?! The physical and the spiritual meet and we know He is a real, Holy God! As I talk with my farm friends I understand there to

I am a little embarrassed to admit that the title of this post is actually from an old Waylon Jennings country song, but just bear with me!! I'm not as cool as you think I am and after this post I am prepared for the "Country is Lame" bullying and looks of disgust later 😉 (**AWKWARD LAUGHTER**) . This song was introduced to me as I visited my Dad this past summer.  It's mine and Dad's thing!  He relaxes in the evening by showing me old songs and stories of singers/bands that bring back memories for him.  I get to know my Dad and connect to him through the sounds of his good ol' days. Sometimes I roll my eyes, but most times I just love being with dad and truthfully the songs usually find their way to my playlist in a perfect blend of the old and new songs that I enjoy...and remind me of times with Dad. Memory of this song came to me this last weekend as we waited through  a crazy, early winter storm!  It was bizarre and affected people's lives

I was walking down the hall of my workplace during my  summer student job placement .  Many of the lovely clients we  served there were people who had physical and intellectual disabilities.  One of them who we will call "Guss" said, "Deanna, can you stop making that noise when you walk?!" I don't fault Guss and if I were honest the sound is a little annoying...I mean sometimes I really wish I could just sneak up on people and be all stealthy, ya know?!😊  My 'noise'  was the sound of my crutches.  Those of you who know me and have shared space with me know what I'm talking about.  "Click, Click, Clack, Clack" Yep, the sound of my mobility aids.  This sound can carry the  happy sound of joy, freedom, dance and Dee presence if you are my momma, friend, brothers or even the beautiful little old ladies at church. There is  another harder- to- swallow side to this sound though.  It is a sound that carries with it a tone of  weakness, vulner

I let go because I love I love because I let go... Love?!  It’s about those glances from across the room, those butterflies in your stomach,  and even those 'I can’t get any word out ' moments. It’s about those little moments of needs noticed and caring for each other. It's about leaning in and grasping hands to get through the unstable together. It’s also about awkward conversation, risking rejection and    being aware of each other’s interests. It’s about those can’t eat, can’t sleep and can’t even listen to a love song without thinking about him moments. It’s cheesy like a romance movie and painful like heart surgery. It inspires paintings, poems, song lyrics and dancing. It makes you laugh until you cry and then cry until you laugh. It makes you savor sunsets, trees, oceans and even the simplest cup of tea  tastes better when shared in the company of ones you love.. Oh but here is where it’s also just as real! Love?! It has a cost. There is a selfle

I am always overwhelmed when I get here. I think it’s because the physical touches on what goes on in my soul, mind and body when I get here! I hear and feel His invitation again into risk—into freedom—-into moving through my fear into trust of the God who Sees beyond what I can’t see. It is where the holy invades every fiber of who I am and where I’ve been. I let go! I feel my smallness like no other place. It can be a place of fog and unclear for me. A place of learning to dance on the edge of the hard, but beautiful tensions and paradoxes of life and it becomes my “paradoxology” and I worship. At the edge of the ocean, this is the place where His glory is so big and the depths of His love is so sure—that I step in. It is a place that makes me tremble as I choose to acknowledge the Power that could    take me under but gently calls me  by a SURE love that pulls  me in close. It is a place where you lose control, but you’re free. A place where you learn to let go and t

The other day a dear friend and mentor of mine asked me to pray for her.  My housemate asked me to help her paint our sun porch.  A lady asked me if she could help me carry my load in my arms. My course instructor asked me to share at a meeting. My boss asked me to stay for a meeting that involved dreaming about future programs/ possibilities. A friend  that I was saying goodbye to asked if she could hug me... Notice a theme here?! I have been thinking and contemplating the power of asking people things and the freedom it gives them when they feel asked instead of pressured, manipulated or controlled.  Asking is an invitation.  It is an open-handedness and letting the other choose to say "Yes,"  "No." or even a "Let me get back to you on that" There is some thing about the power of an ask that can give us life and show us the heart of Christ.  Yet there is something about the power of assumptions and control that can make us feel enslaved, voiceles

Dear Stone-Faced Girl, I saw you today...your eyes dark, without hope, lifeless and dull.   I sit in prayer for you and I wonder what images, scenes and trauma those eyes have looked on.  I wonder how many tears you cry as you think about it.  I hear you scream, curse and reject those who care. Those eyes also tell the story of a family separated, neglect and abuse.  They say , “I hate”    no matter how many times our hearts cry out, “I love.”  I pray for those eyes to see the Man that hung on a tree.  He’s already been there forming your story, but the sin, systems and cycles you’ve been trapped in have blinded you to His love.  Don’t shut your eyes to Him, Love!    Let Him see you!  See Him.  Let Him wash and re-imagine and refocus those eyes to see Hope, Light and Life.  The scenes of your past cannot be changed, but I am praying that You dear stone - faced girl will be laughing and those eyes will tell the story of Joy!   Here's

“I think I can...I think I can...I think I can..”   I  heard this little mantra many times as my stubborn, little girl self would NOT want to complete her hour of physical therapy each week. My tough-love, patient -filled, Newfie -born physical therapist would spend the hour pushing me along the hospital hallway with it. My family and friends even picked it up and would use it during home exercises or any time my stubborn will told me “I can’t do it!” or that I should give up! I don’t fault them at all and am grateful for the independence and 'sticktoitedness' this developed in me. If they had stood by and watched me give up then I know I would not be where I am today. There have been moments in my life where I have  boldly declared and reminded myself  to focus on the things I CAN and not what I CAN’T!  I still believe this at the heart of who I am and have come to believe that there is a freedom too that comes from  acknowledging what I CAN’T do. There is no human

I recently listened to some teaching on what Scripture says about God’s view on justice. I have been letting these thoughts roll over my soul and realize in me the groaning for true, Godly justice is so real! Most  often I respond compassionately in the middle of the world's injustices even as I wrestle with anger and thoughts of “It’s just NOT supposed to be this way!” Whether the injustices are up close and personal or you see the grossness of injustice systemically...all of it is sinful, ugly and has a schemer behind it that has been out to destroy from the beginning. And to realize that some of the barriers and injustices are things that we as humans cannot remove in our own clever thinking or strength. *Deep breaths* I however am a receiver of mercy and am on the side of the One who sets all things right and came and walked His own journey of being mistreated to save, heal and set the captives free. He is King and invites me into partnership to pray, act and speak His Justic

It was the morning of my Grandad’s Funeral.   We had an hour and a half drive to get to the city where his funeral was held.   My parent’s house was full of all the siblings, spouses and their kids.   The grief and tension was thick in the air and I had got myself dressed and ready around all the extra bodies in the house!   My big brother and his wife showed up to join our travelling convoy of family and I was dressed in my funeral attire when they arrived!    I was sitting drinking my coffee all ready to take my place in a vehicle when the time came.   I was TIRED!   Grief as well as unexpected travel had taken its toll on me and I was not really looking forward to the hours ahead, but as I sat sipping my coffee I was pretty relaxed!   I raised the mug to take a sip and just when I got close my big brother snuck up behind me grabbed my shoulder and yelled “DEAAAANNA!” really loud!   I wasn’t expecting it and just like in our childhood days I jumped right off the chair.   Coffee spl

L ife on this Saturday is different than before. The winds of change have blown again and the sounds of Fats Domino and homemade banana muffins fill the air.   I have moved into a rental house for a little while just a few blocks from my old apartment!   It is different and awesome.   My housemate   loves music (anything new, old , jazzy or the kind that makes you want to dance nostalgically across the floor) .   She likes cooking and I have enjoyed the eating of flavorful food, the late night conversations and even the moments of learning how to let go of “the way I always do things” and live out a longing I have had for a while to live communally in a small way.   There is something really beautiful to me about creating a home where people of differences come together and learn how to live and love each other through frustrations, honest confessions, and awkward laughter.   It is a challenging kind of fun to learn to live in an unhidden, “This Is Me” kind of state.   It scares

Dad's Pulpit Built by my Brother with all of his kid's names and verse etched in it.  December 31st, 2017. A date that  holds so much meaning and healing for me.  It was a concert of prayer!  I sat there taking it all in. With my Bible and journal open, I sat in quiet contemplation of what was and what new things the Lord might be leading me into. From the front row I listened, worshiped and was lead in thankfulness & intercessory prayer by my Dad for the community he ministers in. We'll come back to this scene in  December in a minute, but first let me tell you some things . . .  My Dad is a beautiful man of Jesus with a heart of love and courage like the Good Shepherd.  Over the years I looked to him as my provider, protector, taxi driver, financial adviser and spiritual leader as  well as my pastor.  I honor him in writing this and affirm the call and heart of his life. I appreciate his heart to teach Biblical foundation and Truth to his children and leave a