A Land Apart

Joshua five fifteen

The commander of the Lord's army replied,

‘Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy.’

And Joshua did so.

Last week, I went on a day trip with my son to the historic settlement of Sainte-Marie-among-the-Hurons. My goal was simply to be a tourist for the day and have some much needed mother-son time as the summer comes to a close. We met up with my mom, sister and niece and together we entered the gates of Sainte Marie.  

The definition of a pilgrimage is a journey or search of great moral or spiritual significance. Typically, it is a journey to a shrine or other location of importance to a person’s beliefs and faith.

A pilgrimage is usually intentional. Most often, one decides ahead of time to take a pilgrimage and one can spiritually prepare for such a journey. As a mother, I was equipped with sandwiches, drinks, sunscreen and umbrellas for the day’s adventure. I was not prepared for the deep spiritual pilgrimage that began as I entered the gates of Sainte Marie.

Faith, history and geography collided as I stepped on the soil of Sainte Marie. Out of my heart’s burning bush I heard the voice, “remove your shoes Jane you are standing on holy ground.”

Quietly slipping out of my sandals, with eyes filled tears I stood in the dirt with my mom.

“Mom, this place is holy,” I whispered.

“Now you understand why I wanted to come here.”

At eighty years old my mom knew that our visit to Sainte Marie was a sacred pilgrimage. Five generations of my family stood in the gospel dirt where Christianity began in Canada almost 400 years ago. Only a car ride away in the backyard of Ontario, God revealed the altar of Canada to an ordinary family of unknown pilgrims.

Historically, the land was called Wendake and is the ancestral homeland of the Huron nation, a branch of the Iroquoian family. The Wendake land surrounded by lakes means ‘the land apart’.

Under the encouragement of explorer Samuel de Champlain, French Jesuit priests arrived in Wendake early in the 17th century. Led by patriarch Jean de Brébeuf, the Jesuits were dedicated to bringing Christianity to Canada and were martyred because of their mission.

Behind the rustic church, simple wooden crosses stake and claim Canadian soil for Calvary. They stand as flag posts marking the veiled ancient wells that overflow with the sacrificial tears of our ancestors.

The mantle of our patriarchal forefathers concealed in this holy soil silently wait for generations willing to bear its sacrificial weight. The cloud of witnesses buried under this Canadian altar cry out for us to finish their mission and claim the promise that Canada, a land ‘set apart’ is to be a healer to the nations.

I began my journey to Sainte Marie as a tourist but in the dirt I finish a pilgrim. As we left the gates of Sainte Marie my spirit cried out to God to bless me with a small piece of this sacred mantle. Not worthy of their shoulders, I wish to honour the legacy of our forefathers and bring their mission back to the small Canadian town that I call home.

Hebrews eleven thirteen

These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off were assured of them, embraced them and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.

 Visit www.saintemarieamongthehurons.on.ca for more information.

A Good Thing

When I think of a “heart cry,” I think of a deep yearning, struggling to find response, affirmation and fulfillment. If left unexpressed, it aches and restlessly pervades the whole of one’s being, making it impossible to ignore until recognized. The bearer must finally say, “Yes - I know you’re there and I’ll do what I can to give you peace.”

My heart cry, in recent years, has been of a dual nature. On the one hand, it has been for the young people of our world, so many of whom have been left to their own devices, absorbing negative influences of 21st century media, video games, values and social inertia. I am not blind to the wonderful young people who, raised by responsible parents, are becoming trained and prepared to contribute to society in meaningful ways. But for every one of those, there are a thousand Johnnies glued to computer screens with disconnected dads gaming at other computer screens and moms so stressed from compounded responsibilities that they have no patience for dealing with the Johnnies and the Emmas. On the flip side, my heart cry has been for the precious seniors who are being ignored, neglected or simply deemed irrelevant by their busy, self-absorbed families.

Clearly, the youth of today are going to be faced with unprecedented challenges for which they lack preparation. There are those who say that the coming economic meltdown is going to make the Great Depression look like a cakewalk. I’m not sure what a ‘cakewalk’ is, but no matter how the pundits try to spin the current situation, anyone with a brain knows that the illusion of normalcy is dissolving into an uncertain reality.

Back in the day, while mom and dad did what had to be done to provide for the family, grandpa and grandma were generally available to ‘be there’ for the kids, tending to their needs, giving a reproof when earned and sharing insights about life, gleaned from experience and years of observation. They were often the ones who taught life skills and filled the gaps left by busy parents.

These days, society has become age-segregated through the advent of seniors’ housing developments, age-segregated schools and parental work obligations that take them away from the home. The barriers between generations have robbed every age group of the benefits of inter-generational interaction. Texting has replaced talking and Facebook has become the new living-room of interaction. The voices of seniors without these skills are being muted. Unless we take steps to strengthen the links between generations, the new ways people communicate will widen the gap irretrievably.

The wisdom of our elders are the wells from which we draw understanding, knowledge and warnings against repeating the evil elements of history. We must find a way to open these wells and give our young people opportunities to drink deeply from the life-giving flow. Wherever possible, we must reach out to seniors and help them become equipped with the new avenues of communication. We must help them to become comfortable in the new living rooms of communication. There’s no one better equipped to teach them than the very ones who need their wisdom - our teens. Linking teens and seniors for mutual mentoring can have tremendous benefits.

Technology is not going to go away. Its advent has been a wonderful boon to our world - but we must not allow its potential for isolating people to rob our young people of the natural, centuries-old, methods for gaining life-skills. We need to use it to strengthen our world - not to weaken it. We need to use whatever tools we have to channel the wisdom, insights and experiences of our elders to prepare our young people for the challenges ahead.

Those who scoff at the importance of what seniors have to offer are forgetting that things like industriousness, integrity, financial management, ingenuity, kindness, unselfishness etc. are timeless values that determine success and can’t be taught by a video game. They forget that our kids need to know how to survive in a world without electricity. One swipe at our grid by any act of nature or terrorism could demand that they know how to survive in a pre-wired world.

In responding to my heart cry, I designed legacy journals in which seniors could record their values, insights and observations for the benefit of oncoming generations. http://www.bydesignmedia.ca/store/index.html

My heart song is sung when I see young people helping seniors to complete the journals and doing what they can to coach them in the new social media, welcoming them into their wired world. My heart strings are played when I see precious seniors lift their downcast gazes and smile in response to someone who recognizes their value - to someone who wants to hear about their life experiences and their words of wisdom. That’s a good thing!              

Diane Roblin-Lee is the author/co-author of over 20 books, several of which have been award-winners or Canadian bestsellers. Some may recognize her as a former host (for seven years) of Crossroads' Nite Lite and occasional co-host or guest on 100 Huntley Street. Diane now does custom-publishing and graphic design through her company, byDesign Media, in Uxbridge, Ontario. She works with Winning Kids Inc., promoting their Plan to Protect and serves on the Board of the Heart to Heart Marriage and Family Institute. Her present focus is her Legacy work, through which she founded My Legacy Links with a view to bridging the generations. Diane has two sons and four grandchildren. She is available for speaking engagements. Contact Diane at diane@bydesignmedia.ca or visit  "My Legacy Links" at www.mylegacylinks.com.

The Lamentation of the Loon

Genesis one twenty

And God said, "Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the dome of the sky."

I Am Here, Where are You?

Every year my family vacations at Elim Lodge, a small Christian camp situated in God’s country on Pigeon Lake.  Loons inhabit this same geography and their haunting cry echoes across the lake expressing the deep longing of Genesis. Early one morning while listening to a family of loons crying out their morning prayer, I wrote the following words in my journal:

Overlooking the lake, I see an entire Loon family. I am reminded of our small town festival where I watched an elder silently and lovingly carve out this graceful bird from a piece of discarded wood. He did not say a word.  His peaceful intensity was mesmerizing.  His hands were weathered with age but there was strength in them as they gently carved the loon that one day would sit silently on a shelf.

“Is this how you carved the first loon, Jesus?”

I imagine my Carpenter Father gently carving the first loon into existence. Genesis in the making, He lovingly carves away all that is not loon. As he surveys his handiwork, he quietly whispers, “I will put my longing in you so they will hear my cry.” And breathing on the loon he humbly says, “It is finished, and it is good.” He names him Holy.  Lifting his hands up to heaven he releases the gentle bird that he has so lovingly carved for us. He offers up the loon as a gift to his Father for those he longs for.  He murmurs a quiet prayer for those who listen and hear his longing. And in his incredible mercy, He also whispers a prayer for those who do not hear, “Father, forgive them, for they know not our longing for them.”

My daughter Anna, loves to go tubing and one afternoon while on the water, a single male loon cried out and seemed distressed. Distracted with their water toys; boaters, jet skiers, wake boarders and fishermen seemed unaware of the father loon's cry.

“He can't find his family,” my daughter Anna commented. She recognized that something was amiss. Her words pierced me as I thought of our eternal Father’s heart crying out his longing for his family. A family so distracted with our toys that we miss our Father’s heart cry buried deep within this ancient Genesis creature.

After a few hours of spinning my daughter behind our own toy, we silently cruised back to camp. All was quiet on the water as toys were docked for dinner. As we drifted, my heart prayed across the water.

Suddenly, Anna jumping up from the front of the boat exclaimed, “Look mommy! He found his family!”  In the seclusion of the bull rushes, father loon huddled protectively with his united family.

Bowing their heads in prayer, father loon gave the evening benediction. In the dusk stilled water, one could softly hear the hymn of his holy breath of mercy, "I am here, I am here, I am here."

Isaiah fifty seven thirteen
“When you cry out for help, let your collection of idols save you! The wind will carry all of them off, a mere breath will blow them away. But whoever takes refuge in me will inherit the land and possess my holy mountain.”

Sarah: A Mother's Heartsong

Proverbs twenty three twenty five

May your father and mother rejoice; may she who gave you birth be joyful!

Helen is one of my best friends and shares the cry of her heart for a daughter. Lovingly and faithfully God stood with Helen through the darkness and blessed her with a preious miracle. She named her Sarah.

Sarah: A Mother's Heartsong

Why is it that sometimes we let ourselves live in a deep dark hole? And to make matters worse why are we the ones who dig it in the first place. I was living in one. Before I even knew it, I had dug my hole and was stuck in darkness silently crying out for help. That’s when He found me or perhaps when I finally found Him. God’s plan for us it not to live in darkness but to live in light, His light.

God didn’t just yank me out though. He helped me climb up and then out, one step at a time. You see for me, it was a journey of trust, “Trust your God with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding in all your way acknowledge Him and He will lead your paths straight.” proverbs 3:4-6

It was after the birth of my third son that I began digging my hole. Although I loved my family more than anything, my heart longed for a daughter. I’m not sure why, perhaps it was God’s way of telling me that I was not finished having children. My head thought it was, but my heart knew otherwise. God had a plan for me and my family to add one more member and in His glorious way led me to see His majesty and power.

Although I believed in God all my life, I did not come to know Jesus Christ until I had attended an ALPHA program that was being offered at our local church. I had given my life, my heart, my dreams, my plans and all that I was to Jesus right there and then. I wanted only His will in my life whether I liked it or not. And so in crying out to God, He started to speak to me. He spoke to me through His word, through His creation and through visions.

He gave me a vision of my children, my wonderful boys and my sweet daughter. But wait, I didn’t have a daughter. What did it mean? Maybe I made it up in my mind, I wasn’t sure. It was hard to imagine that the creator of the world was actually speaking and revealing Himself to me and I struggled with knowing what to do. However, God in his loving and caring ways continued to speak and I continued to listen. He spoke so clearly at times that it became unmistakeable what I was to do. But I was still afraid.

In my twenties and early thirties, I had struggled to have my children, they did not come easily. It would be years of trying and 2 miscarriages later that I conceived and gave birth to my precious sons. I knew it would be very difficult to conceive at 40.

After 5 years of intensely reading God’s word, praying (on my knees and with my sisters in Christ), fasting, giving God control, and just plain old believing, I jumped off the cliff in faith. I needed to trust God not only with my death, but also with my life.

Sarah was born December 10, 2008. God really was speaking to me and I wasn’t just imagining it. My husband and I had decided to try and conceive just once and leave the rest up to God. God in His miraculous way made the impossible happen. I believe He was waiting for me to trust Him completely and I thank Him with all my heart for His grace and His love, my God who allows me (a sinner) to be in His presence.

I urge you not to live in your dark hole. Look up, for our Lord Jesus is waiting patiently for you. He is wiping every tear that you cry and is calling out your name. I know from personal experience that God can handle anything that you are willing to give Him. Just trust Him, for He is speaking right now to you.

John sixteen twenty one

“A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.”