I thought it was fitting after the commemoration of Margaret that we should complete life's cycle with a celebration of my daughter Sharon's 40th birthday.
Back in the 1970's in England, the idea of a father standing in the delivery room with his wife was still new.
On the day of my son, Mark's, birth I had gladly handed Pauline into the hands of my retired Irish neighbour, to be driven to the nursing home, while I went in the other direction to teach school.
But nearly two years had passed and it was decided that I be present for the happy event of Sharon's arrival.
Pauline was pretty much ready to deliver by the time we got to the nursing home in Southport.
Manfully I held her hand in the waiting room attempting a few heavy breaths from time to time. But suddenly the moment came. My wife was wheeled into the birthing room and I naturally attempted to follow her.
Not so. A large nurse with an Irish accent blocked my way.
"Just where do think you are going?" came the challenging question.
"In there is no place for a man. Out you go!"
Out I went, to be greeted by the same nurse 40 minutes later with Sharon in a green blanket. When I asked to hold her the request was denied.
"You'll be seeing enough of her during your life-time. That's all for now."
I guess the nurse was right. Forty years later we have seen plenty of her, and she has been a wonderful enrichment in our lives.
Blessings to Sharon on her birthday and also to the Irish nurse who helped bring her to us.
Ian
A few minutes ago I returned from celebrating the life of an old friend.
In an age that looks for glib answers to deep questions, she was a mystery.In a day that has come to expect quick solutions to complex problems she defied all human resource and technology.
Margaret was bed-ridden for almost 30 years; most of her transmitting faculty had been knocked out by an invasive tumor, excised from the base of her skull.
She was, especially in later years, unable to communicate and yet, she did speak. Her life was a sermon more eloquent than words; a poem of the rarest stanzas and meter; a song with sublime tune and lyrics for any who wished to listen.
Margaret from her earliest years trusted in Christ and to the latest days of her life, with what little function there was left, still found grace to praise Him. When that was gone she simply raised a finger to Heaven.
That said it all.
Margaret's trillions of atoms have now been re-arranged into a new and eternal form and she is forever with her beloved Lord.
For those of us who are left, think about a single, emaciated finger pointing to a way we can all follow through the same Christ and the same cross.
Jubilate.
Ian
This is a BIG day for all true blooded Scotsmen.
It is Burns Day.
The Scottish bard was born 215 years ago in Ayrshire, Scotland. Of his sheer genius there can be no doubt but, as for its source, he freely admitted it was from God.
"My gift found me as Elijah's robe that smote Elisha and from thence bade me write poems about my fellow men and my beloved land."
And write he did; on every subject imaginable.
There is a beauty on "The Louse" which he saw crawling on a lady's bonnet in church, and one on the fragile world of the field mouse with the famous quote:
"The best laid plans of mice and men aft gang awry."
His satire on "Holy Willie" , the assistant minister at his church, is a blistering attack on hypocrisy, whilst "Auld Lang Syne" still draws tears from the eyes of ex Pat Scots at Hogmany.
Then, for those of us who love the verses of the Bible, there is no finer example than his para-phrasing of psalm 90.
My friend Ian Campbell has a saying
"There are only two kinds of people. Those who are Scots and those who wish they were."
Burns will appeal to both.
Ian
Brent Tremblay lives up in North Bay which, 120 miles from my city of Barrie, is just around the corner.
I met Brent not long his career change from professional hockey to minister at large for Christ. We have preached together on many occasions since.
Ice hockey is not a sport for the faint of heart.
The bumper sticker says it well:
"Be kind to animals: hug a hockey player."
Brent carries the scars of his artistry, having accumulated 250 stitches in his face, yet this bruiser from North Bay met Christ in a dramatic fashion.
While laid in bed in a Washington Hospital recovering from a back surgery his nurse led him to a personal faith in Christ.
Never one to do things in half measure Brent, shortly thereafter, exchanged his "Capitals" jersey for a Bible and in a few short years circled the globe preaching the Word.
He is still busy as a representative for 'Hockey Ministries International' , an assistant pastor in his church, and in our cold country, one of God's colourful Northern Lights.
All because a young nurse took time to tell him her story.
Don't be afraid to tell yours.
Ian
This post was sent me by an old friend Bob Deakin, before he leaves on his six week cruise to Austalia.
Writes Bob:
The current plight of the Costa Concordia reminds me of a comment made by Churchill.
After his retirement, he was cruising the Mediterranean with an Italian cruise liner.
He was asked by some journalists why an ex British Prime-Minister should choose to sail on an Italian ship so soon after the war.
He replied:
"There are three things that I like about being on Italian Cruise ship.
First, the cuisine is unsurpassed.
Second, the service is impeccable.
Third, in time of emergency, there is none of this nonsense about women and children first!"
Bon Voyage, Bob.
