My Dad...a Thousand Words

“There are some people who could hear you speak a thousand words 
and still not understand you.

And there are others who will understand without you even saying a word.”

I read this quote the other day, it affected me.  I find it true.  I find it sitting in my heart and filling my mind; I take it in and feel every nuance about it.  Some people know me, they know the words I use and they understand me even when I don’t use those words, they just know.  I love that.  But there are others, those who hear me speak and don’t get it, they can’t take it in, they don’t know what I’m saying, even if I do use a thousand words. Nothing will make them understand.  Their ears, and hearts and minds are closed to me; nothing I say will make them understand.  I’m okay with that.  I’m not made to fit into every one’s space.

The Greek word for understand is Suniemi which “strictly denotes the collecting together of individual features of an object into a whole, as collecting the pieces of a puzzle and putting them together.

Putting the pieces of a puzzle together requires the ability to see the whole picture, knowing exactly what will be made once the pieces are placed there, sometimes there is a pattern to copy, sometimes there are hints of what to expect and sometimes it is a matter of trial and error and guessing, longing for the pieces to fit one way but knowing they never will… each piece has its own place to go.  Once the last piece is put into place the picture is clear, every piece fits, yes, and now we know.

On Sunday, Andrew talked about Lego pieces fitting together,  a different kind of fitting, anything can be made with these kind of pieces and it will always be right, it will always be good, not perfect but good, each piece fitting to the other, made for one another…I love that.  We all want to be a Lego piece, I think, rather than a puzzle piece, fitting together any which way we can, but we also want to be understood and placed right there in that exact space, the one that holds the shape that belongs to me, to you.

My dad is lying in a hospital bed, he has been there for 6 weeks and he is changing every day.  Every day he moves further away, into his own world, but we know him.  We understand him in the ways that we have known him, what he likes to eat, how he likes to sleep, the words he is likely to say, and the way he will most probably respond. We know him.  But we can’t understand him, the words he uses are many; a thousand words but we don’t know what they are.  His hands are constantly moving, holding, folding, reaching, wanting…my father’s hands.  If I put my hand in his he will hold it, sometimes tight, but sometimes no, no touching, his hands are working to tell the story of his one thousand words…the words we can’t understand.

Right now my Dad is a puzzle piece that doesn’t seem to fit, we can’t understand him.  But he is also a Lego piece, he fits together with us, just the way he is,  it’s not perfect but it is good…we were made for one another no matter which way we fit.

“And we know that all things work together for good to those that love God.”     

Romans 8:28

I love that.

Saints and Souls and Watchmen

Haida Gwaii, most people know it by its previous name, the Queen Charlotte Islands.  When I told people I was going there I mostly had to add that last bit.  It is a group of Islands that  lie up north, out from the BC coast across the ocean from Prince Rupert…Alaska and Russia are out in the far distance.  God’s country for sure, His people, His creation…an amazing place of ocean coming together with land, inlets of water ways and tides letting in and out, in and out, skies above, clear and crisp and blue.

The sky goes on forever, the clouds telling the story of what is coming next, always changing, fog rolling in and rolling out, making way for clear skies, bluer than blue.  The stars lighting up the nights, bright, sparkling, peeking, small clouds of stars laid deeper into the heavens, all of them looking down to all of us; standing, looking up, breathing in the crisp night air...framed in by trees and silence.

The trees stand tall stretching out windblown, branches whipped, boughs bent, and trees held there by roots that will not let go.  But some of them do, roots exposed, reaching out wishing for the soil they stood in. Some of the trees are weighed down with moss, moss that hangs like sweaters, blanketing the branches that have lost their own foliage, gracing the forests with soft green warmth and maybe a bit of eeriness too, perhaps holding the secrets of souls who passed by centuries ago, over the ocean and onto the rocks of this windblown land.

The rocks come in with the tides, small round rocks that have been rolled around by the waters of the ever changing ocean, some of them shaped into hard agates, all of these waiting to be found and polished and kept in jars, made into jewelry and laid deliberately along the paths, together with ever abundant sea shells, lain on benches, beside graves marking the sacred places of loved ones lost and buried in the ground, here in Gods Land.

The ground itself calls out with words of the souls who have walked here and those who walk here still.  Every path leads to places where the land changes to water, water coming in and out, again and again.  The land worn and sanded and etched by the years of salty ocean water, all filtered by sand, the sand  filling in all the empty places between the  grasses and rocks and  then wrapping around the edges of the shore stretching out to  the places where the ocean never ceases and sometimes only the waves see.

The waves; waiting for the boats, kayaks and canoes paddling out, the surfers who try to ride their crests and  the fishermen who try to master and catch the life inside…the waves; calling out to the Island people to come and see what they see.

The people wear their heart on their sleeve and their soul sits right there too.  Everyone smiles and waves, everyone smiles; they look in your eyes to see if you are looking, really looking and smiling too.  The people are not so busy that they are in their cars getting to the next place but they are going, whether in their cars or on foot they are going to see who else is there, smiling waving seeing. People taking in life, respecting the land, honoring traditions and families taking care of one another, some of them for generations, living laughing loving always loving.

Sandspit, Queen Charlotte, Skidegate, Tlell, Port Clements, Massett and Old Massett…the villages called home by First Nations people, by others who came to log, by those who came years ago with army assignments and  those too who came to visit and never left. An Island made up of islands, protected by its people and guarded over by the Totems carved with eagle and raven, whale and crests, each pole telling a story; inspirational and beautiful holding onto the traditions of history.

There are two Totems that stand out in Old Massett facing out to the ocean; at the top of them are carved three watchmen, they are said to be on guard ever watching, protecting the souls who live there…a comfort to many, those out on the water and those who wait on land.

  

The minister of the small Anglican Church in Old Massett, Lilly Belle, surely a saint, shared with us about being watchmen over one another, taking care, loving, and giving grace just as God, Salaana, is the Watchman over us all.

Haida Gwaii, a carved and landscaped island made up of saints, souls and watchmen.

I love that.

Don't Cry

Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened

I saw these words posted on a church sign, you know, the kind of sign where the glass door opens and the letters can be placed there to make words and sentences, phrases and quotes.  Words of inspiration for passers-by, people walking, riding their bikes, in their cars, eyes open taking in their surroundings, thinking about their life and taking in the words on this sign.  Two churches are on this corner, the hospital is up the road and my parent’s house a little further on, I always pass by here and I am always looking to see the words of wisdom this pastor posts on the sign with the glass door.

Of course there are those who pass by and never look, let alone take it in, they are too busy with their minds, busy on the inside rather than the outside…missing out on the  life going on around them, missing out on inspiration found on the edges of their travels.

Sometimes I find myself too busy on the inside, my friend says, “Get out of your head and into your heart.”  I love hearing that from time to time, it wakes me up and I see the world around me through my heart instead of my head.  Looking through your heart helps you to see clearer; you can see more of what is going on around you, which brings me back to the words on the sign.

Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened

I wondered why a church would have those words on their sign.  What would be over?  Suffering? A hard life?  A tough lesson? Overcoming a sin? Yes I can see it, all of those would be worthy of a good cry…yes, don’t cry because it’s over, smile because you have overcome, you have found Jesus, you have been saved, Hallelujah!  But no, the sign says smile because it happened?  That doesn’t make any sense at all, yet the message seems to be pointing to what happened.  What happened, that you would be sad that it’s over? What happened that would be worthy of putting on a church sign, the kind that has a glass door, where you can put words of wisdom to cheer up the world that passes by?

Ahh, yes, I know what happened…running barefoot, playing with our children on the beach, camping with our friends, visiting parks and playgrounds, celebrating family in the sunshine, running about outdoors getting sun kissed, tanned and freckled. Cozying up by the fire roasting marshmallows, sparks crackling up into the night, lying flat on our backs arms crooked under our neck,  looking out to the starry night, pointing out the big dipper, mars, the moon, satellites, fireflies, listening to the owl hoot, hoot and the splashing of the water up against the shore.  Walking late in the evenings, enjoying the night sounds; crickets, frogs, traffic in the distance. Spending time enjoying the people God has placed in our life, creating memories together, sharing, laughing, loving, moments of seemingly endless fun enjoying Gods creation, His land, His peace, this season; the endless days of summer, fun days that are over…but don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.

 

Ahh the long days of summer,yes...smiling because it happened.

I love that.