Another one year anniversary is tugging at my heart.
Today I am sitting in the family room of our good friends in Calgary, watching the 102nd Grey Cup football championship game on television.  It is -20 degrees Celsius something outside but I am settled safe and comfortable on the couch.
Twenty-five years ago Walter and I were speaking at small groups in various scattered in east Calgary.  We were newly married, sharing about the ministry in Regina ( we were already involved but still raising support and a prayer team).  The Roughriders were in the Grey Cup and won it with Kent Austin as quarterback and the famous Dave Ridgeway kick to secure that win!  We missed the game because these small groups were all scheduled for Sunday evening...
We shared this morning in the Crossroads Community Church worship service, renewing some connections and meeting a few new folks, as well. The church was preparing and hosting a community winter festival at a nearby neighbourhood hall and so we met with another couple for lunch.  Very different experience than the one we had 25 years ago, with Sunday evenings being a regular meeting time for churches, plus many elderly and missions-focused people who made a "big deal" about missionaries visiting,
Not complaining, just making the observation that times have change; church culture and home-grown missionaries is less formal and yet more relational than ever.
One year ago, Walter and I, our son Daniel and my sister, Paula, were sitting in the private hospital room.  The tiny suspended T.V. was angled so the 5 of us could view it, not an easy feat with my Dad  laying on the hospital bed.  The nurses had decked him in his Rider Jersey.  My sister and I had decorated his room with some newspaper pictures and green garlands.
We had gowns over our football gear but that didn't dampen our cheers and spirit!  The nurses kept sneaking a peak at the score and asking if Dad needed anything.  We slipped up some pop for Dad to have a sip.  It was a special occasion.  Didn't know that would be his last Grey Cup.  So the Rider victory was extra sweet that evening.
So glad for the memory.  Sad.   Thankful.  Glad the Roughriders didn't make it to this championship game - selfishly - so that I can have time to remember and heal.
I'm writing this during the half-time show.  In a year or two, I won't recall the band playing, nor the two teams facing each other tonight.  But the precious memories that matter most will not disappear.
Missing you, Dad.

Today was a Sabbath day for me.
Well, if I were a devout Jew, I would have broken the rules for what is acceptable amounts of work but a household does have to run.  Laundry, packing for our trip to Calgary tomorrow, preparing supper~some basic daily tasks.
As I am reading the book by Mark Buchanan, "The Rest of God", I am trying to picture and apply what Sabbath means for me.  A day of rest sounds lovely and idealistic.  Sundays are not good days for taking a true break as we do a lot of our ministry on Sunday.  So what does Sabbath look like for a missionary wife?  Is there even such a thing?
I am only starting chapter 5 in this insightful book, but so far, I am gleaning some helpful tips.  Rest, of course is a state of mind, not just an absence of work.  It is about sleep and physical restoration.  It is about an attitude of peace and contentment.  Thankfulness is involved in acknowledging God as God, and not thinking I have to be in charge.  So many nuggets to discover and explore.
So today was about reading on the couch between loads of laundry.  I stared out the picture window at the soft and light snowflakes in between paragraphs of the book.  I let my thoughts drift and swirl.  Then I'd take a sip of Mocha Swirl coffee with French Vanilla creamer-a decadent treat on this special afternoon.  Back to the page I was reading...
I made a couple of phone calls, just for the pleasure of it. I stared out the back window at the squirrel, chubby and still storing more food for the winter.  Our resident bunny poked his nose in the backyard for a few minutes, while the squirrel ran up the tamarack tree.
This book talked about the Sabbath-attitude of attentiveness.  Paying attention to the little things, living in the moment.  I tried to do that today and found it very sweet.  Maybe I can become a Sabbath-keeper.
The most important element I am seeing is that the Sabbath is made for us, for our good, and we were made for God.  We cannot truly rest without being attentive to God Himself.  Paying attention to His voice, to His quiet presence, to His Person and setting aside all the other voices, noises and demands of others.  Not to ignore others but to enjoy them under the banner of His love.
Even as I typed this blog, my "rest" was interrupted by my son coming home after work, the microwave and then the oven not functioning and supper becoming a rush!  I continue writing now and feel that unrushed peace, like the stillness of the afternoon has carried over in spite of the frustrations of the supper hour.  Oh, if I could learn to practice His presence every day!

I couldn’t get onto my blog account.

Walter had to do some work on his laptop computer and in turn, needed mine for some of the procedures.  I am not much of a technological person and so I do the basics and like to leave it as simple as possible.

When I tried to use my laptop once again, he had cleaned up my hard drive and subsequently some of my shortcuts were no longer on the Google Chrome home page.  Or something.  I’m not even sure of the terms I am using right now!  All I know is that my nice and easy routines are gone.

I can find Facebook again so I am reconnected to that world.  But I am lost when it comes to finding access to post a blog. I feel pretty frustrated and even angry right now.

Overload.  Emotional exhaustion.  Feeling helpless to problem solve. 

I know it is not only the technical difficulties that are exasperating me.  I have situations and  relationships that are challenging and I feel helpless to problem solve in some of those areas.  Certain circumstances - that I really have no power to change - are renting space in my head and heart.  So after a busy weekend, catching up with life at home and then running into a roadblock, I have no resources left to deal rationally.

Lord, please grant me peace and rest as I wrestle with the unsolved mysteries of my life this week!

p.s  Obviously I am back in my blog account.  My husband rescued me.  Someday I hope to have the patience – and smarts – to figure this stuff out.  Thank you, my dear!

More than just a handsome face!!!

I've been reading through 2 Chronicles the past while.  I have probably experienced every emotion available through the journey of these kings.  Sadness at the tragedies of evil leadership, frustration at the repeated patterns of foolishness and rebellion, delight at the mercy of God on those who rediscovered "The Book" and restored temple worship and sacrifices.  I can't even grasp the depths of despair at the fall of Israel, then Judah!  Captivity!  How humiliating and degrading!  The once glorious nation of Israel under the kingship of David and the even more splendid reign of his son, Solomon became split and splintered to form sawdust blown and scattered to the far reaches of Babylon.
As I turn the page of my Bible past the last chapter of Chronicles, my eyes rest on "Ezra".  Oh, good!  I can't wait to delve into a new era, a hope-filled account of restoration and revival.
This book, and Nehemiah to follow, resonates with my heart and my reality.
Healing Hearts Ministry is about that very theme:  to wade into a community that has been damaged and nearly destroyed by choices, some personal choices and some brought to bear that are beyond the community's control.  And just as all of us who serve under the Healing Hearts banner have felt and obeyed a call to our respective communities, Ezra was commissioned by the king (of Persia) and given manpower and financial provision to "do whatever seems best" with those resources.  I am beginning to see some parallels...
With just a brief overview of the first few chapters of Ezra, I come to chapter 7 and read a geneology and character reference of the man.  Then the letter from King Artaxerxes to give permission and support to Ezra and his "ministry team" to establish worship and order in the broken nation.  I'm already anticipating eagerly the deeper things I will discover!
Yesterday, when Walter preached from Genesis 2 & 3 at Silver Heights Bible Church in Weyburn, He brought out how God was the first missionary.  When Adam and Eve brought about the separation of intimate and perfect fellowship with their Maker, God did not turn away from them and reject them.  He left His throne on high to search for them in the Garden.  He called out to Adam, "Where are you?"  (Genesis 3:9)  Generations later, God sent Ezra to His separated people.  And today, God is still sending servants to bring the Good News of restoration and healing to broken and hurting people.  The Lord has not given up on humanity.  His Word continues to promise hope.
Lord,"Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in Your law."  Psalm 119:18

"Where is that piece of paper, you know, the one folded in half and then thirds...It had writing on it?"
If there is one thing that might destroy an otherwise loving and solid marriage, it would be our propensity to lose papers!  Both Walter and myself are paper shufflers and procrastinators when it comes to sorting, filing or disposing of paperwork.  Most times I know where an item may be.  But if I have been cleaning up recently, who knows how my mind decided on any given article left on table, counter or desk?
Quite often, the paper was shuffled and will show up later.  I like when that happens.  Sometimes, a crucial document or piece of information disappears forever-likely placed in the discard pile mistakenly-and we scramble to replace or research what was lost.  Very unfortunate.
This morning, I was on such a hunt for a white paper, folded in half and then in thirds with writing on one side...Walter was certain he had set it on the kitchen counter so he could use it for a Skype meeting right away.  I scoured that counter, all adjacent counters, my desk, the dining room table and then widened the search.  The first round was unsuccessful.  So I made the second sweep, looking deeper this time.  I got bogged down in one major pile of papers, discarded some obsolete stuff, and reported back to Walter.  By this time he was already mid-Skype, so I silently mimed the message with a shrug of my shoulders and an apologetic and sorrowful look on my face.  He waved me away and indicated it wasn't that important right at the moment.
Needless to say, I determined that my task for the afternoon would be to do some "paperwork".  That is almost a punishment or bad word around our house!    Actually, I had tried to close my roll-top desk and was unable to so it was becoming a necessity to deal with it sooner rather than later.
Two hours later, I had sorted our 25th anniversary cards into a keepsake box, as well as the many sympathy cards from Dad's memorial service.  I took the time to read them first.  I gave myself permission to so.  I filled a small bag with paper for recycling.  I filed important reports and records. A small pile was formed "For Walter" which he sorted through quickly.  I even inserted a picture of our wedding and then one of us at our 25th Anniversary celebration into a frame I bought at a garage sale back in early summer.
And now I am typing this blog on my laptop that can finally sit on a clear spot on my desk.
Feeling satisfied with my accomplishments, I will post this blog with the hopes that procrastinators of paperwork everywhere may have inspiration!  We can do it!  We can triumph over the flyers, bank statements and greeting cards that threaten to drown us in their dry waves!
Walter will be home from an appointment soon.  I will try to impress him with my amazing skills of organization.
I just won't mention that the white paper, you know, the one on the counter that was folded...yeah, it never showed up!

In downtown Regina at Court of Queen's Bench, a sentencing is taking place today for Robert Cullen.  He has pleaded guilty to aggravated assault on a woman he hired as a sex trade worker and left for dead by a semi truck.  She was able to climb into the cab and lay on the horn until employees arrived in the morning and called for help.  She survived.
This happened three years ago.  Walter and I were called in by family to pray for this woman in the hospital.  We've known her since she was a teen, over twenty years.  I will never forget her lying in the hospital bed, face swollen, stitched and bruised beyond recognition.  Her hair, with the high ponytail is what identified her in my mind.
At that time, her life was still somewhat in the balance.  Internal injuries and head injuries were critical.  As we prayed, we wondered if this would be the last time we would see her alive.  Then Walter was almost certain he would be the pastor called to do the funeral.  My stomach lurched at the thought!  We had done too many funerals for this family and dreaded to perform this ministry for one we knew more personally.  I remember feeling very hopeless and helpless.  Lord, can You do a miracle to restore her life and bring her out of this lifestyle?
As the judge announces the sentence for Robert Cullen today, my heart aches for my friend.  I have spent countless hours visiting her, playing with her babies, having coffee with her, laughing with her at family gatherings.  Her life is dark and in constant crisis. I long to see her life changed, her children back home with her and a joy she's never known fill her heart and light up her smile.
I can only pray that today will mark another miracle in this woman's tragic life.
I pray for the judge to be the instrument of God to bring justice.
I pray for my friend to call out to her Maker, her Heavenly Father, and her Saviour.
I pray for healing of her wounded heart by the touch of Jesus.
I can only pray...

I heard the front door click shut and footsteps across the living room floor.  A few light bangs and a thump.  I am not startled or alarmed.  At 1:30 in the morning, maybe I should be.
No, I turn over and plump up my pillow.  I had been sleeping for a couple hours by this time, but as every mother will do, I only slept lightly until I heard the familiar sounds of kids coming home.  Mark and Amy arrived safely from Steinbach, a 7-hour journey started after work on Friday night.
How fun to have all our family under one roof for the weekend! 
I had the excuse to cook a big breakfast, well, more aptly a lunch as no one was up until almost noon!  We sat around the dining room table and lingered over the bacon, French toast and juice or coffee.  This is my idea of a perfect Saturday morning!
No one had any big plans for the afternoon except Mark & Daniel, who had to prepare some jokes and speeches for MC'ing at their friends' wedding reception.  Their good buddy, Carlen, met a wonderful young lady from Australia and they had been married back there in August.  So this was the Canadian celebration and we all looked forward to a fun evening.
We crammed into a couple cars and drove to the church where the reception was taking place.  The late fall weather turned suddenly into winter chill as we jogged quickly from the parking lot to the church doors!  But inside, the hall was lit by Christmas lights and candles, giving a warmth to our bodies and hearts.
After a delightful and hilarious evening, our bellies were full and we were still in a social mood.  The kids rented a video from the "Red Box" and we settled into the family room for a quiet movie night.  Walter and I made it through the movie without dozing off and felt quite proud of ourselves!  But we hit the pillows and were sleeping fast that night.
Sunday  morning was the usual scramble for the showers and self-serve breakfast.  My heart again was so happy to know we were going to church to worship the Lord together.  Then the kids made lunch plans to invite a couple friends over - frozen pizzas and wings were on the menu.  Lots more laughter and good times.
Whenever our family gets together, it seems it is usually around a special occasion. Sometimes it seems too busy and we try to squeeze in so much in a short time. It was nice this weekend to just chill together.  We spent Sunday evening with Grandma Dinah, eating brownies and playing Mexican Train.
Then the inevitable...saying good-bye.  We hugged and said the "I love you" 's and sent Mark & Amy off with snacks and "Drive safe" instructions!  
It is nice that Caylea doesn't have to go back to Nipawin Bible College until tomorrow.  More time to hang out and extend the family weekend until midweek!
Happy memories of warm family moments.
Sigh!  Can't wait until Christmas!

THE SKY TURNED PALE YELLOW TO PINK as Walter and I walk the block to the classroom building.  A cool November chill is in the air.  I cram my hands into my vest pocket and Walter draws up the hood of his jacket over his bare head.  Brrrr!
We bustle inside the building with a group of students.  The fluorescent lights glare unnaturally above the long rows of tables and folding chairs.  Some students are seated, opening their laptops in preparation for the 8 am class.  Others students linger in the hall, chatting.  Still others are standing by the coffee machine, hoping caffeine will help to kickstart their morning!
I take my seat in the back of the room, arranging my travel mug of coffee, bookbag and vest around my corner.  Today marks the halfway point for the module on "Ministering Cross-Culturally" that Walter is teaching this week at Millar College of the Bible.  I introduce myself as "Cindy Selke, heckler and prayer supporter"!  The last of the students trickles in and the door is closed just as the buzzer signals the hour.
I glance longingly out the window at a few leaves blowing along the yellowed grass.  I wish I was out walking this morning, instead of sitting for a third day in a row.  The fall day is calling me.
Now don't get me wrong.  I am enjoying the classroom environment and Walter is doing a tremendous job, as usual, in conveying information in a captivating and interactive way.  But I long to be moving and doing.
At one of the breaks, a mature student in the class is munching on a muffin and I comment that I had run out of good snacks for the week.  Breakfast is early and we're starving by 12:30 pm lunchtime! Dan mentions the neighbouring town of Ponteix, about 20 minutes down the gravel road, has a wonderful bakery.  So I tuck that information away and go on with the morning.
I am proud of Walter as he manages to cover all three of the areas of "culture" in his morning sessions.  There had been great interaction and seeming student comprehension of the material.  And the week is over half over now.  We finish lunch in the noisy dining hall, leaving when the students are wiping our table and running a vacuum under our chairs!  The sun felt warm as we walk down the sidewalk towards our suite.  And suddenly we see a couple walking very quickly...
They stop suddenly and grin at us.  It is Dan and his wife, Sharon, whom we have not met.
"Hey, we were hoping to find you!"
Introductions are made.
"I am going to Ponteix this afternoon if you would like to come with me.  I heard you were interested in checking out the bakery."
I didn't need to think long about that decision.
We enjoyed a lovely drive down the gravel road that curved once on the way to Ponteix.  Golden fields of stubble, remaining after harvest, rolled gently in all directions.  Few trees blocked our view of the prairie.  I felt like I'd known Sharon for years as we chatted.  Her son sat quietly in the backseat but neither of us let him say much!
I see the spires long before the rest of the town but Sharon drives straight to the library so she and her son could return some books.  I wander in with them and perused a couple tables of old books for sale.  I pick out three and pay a whole toonie for them!  Then we drive two blocks over to the bakery and restaurant.  I admire the murals on some of the buildings and the variety of old and new architecture.  
It takes me mere minutes to pick out goodies to share with the class for coffee break tomorrow.
Then Sharon drives towards the imposing spires that belong to a grand Roman Catholic church.  From the outside, it rivals any European cathedral I've ever seen picture of...with a huge brick hall and former convent all within the complete block of grass and trees on the property.
We weren't able to stick around long enough for the office hours this afternoon.  A tour would have been absolutely amazing.  Another time.
We drive the same road back and I am very thankful for the outing.
I can handle the rest of the week in a classroom, I think!

As I sit on the 1980’s vintage sofa hide-a-bed in the one bedroom suite in Pambrun, Saskatchewan, I ponder the past few days.  I last wrote a blog article over a week ago about the NAIM staff conference experience in Canmore.  I hoped to write more and give a blow by blow account of the interaction of fellow missionaries in meetings, in worship, in visiting, in play…but it feels like a year ago!

Since being in the beautiful surroundings of the Rocky Mountains, snow-capped and varied in the mist or reflection of sunlight, we’ve traveled home again, gone to another church for Sunday worship, met Quebecois missionaries for breakfast and spent a weekend in Gladstone, Manitoba.  Somehow, I am not in the moment of Canmore.  It is like someone pressed fast-forward and we are now in Millar College of the Bible, immersed in campus life.  Can someone please pause the remote control of my life?

Here I am, sitting across from my husband who has his reading glasses on, a yellow highlighter in one hand and a copy of “Ministering Cross-Culturally” textbook in the other.  What am I doing in this environment when 48 hours ago, we were at a missions conference in our daughter-in-law’s home church?  I almost feel like Philip in the book of Acts when he was transported suddenly from a desert road to Azotus (Acts 8:26, 40).  Our ministry certainly takes us to different communities and environments.  We never know just who we will encounter or what God has for us to do and experience.

Sometimes I am doing special music in front of 40 people in a small-town church.  Occasionally I am on the floor playing a game with little kids in the children’s session.  Then I am visiting with folks and giving out prayer cards.  A few days later, I am sitting in the back of a college classroom.  Then I’m talking with students and engaging with staff members in the dining hall.  Who am I and what is my job description?

For most people, this is confusing.  At times even I marvel at the diversity of roles and relationships I have.  God has given me a gift for small talk when necessary.  I can engage more deeply when needed.  And somehow, I’ve learned to adapt to these environments to connect with various ages and types of people. 

As Walter teaches this class on cultural anthropology, I realize I have become multi-cultural in many ways.  I’ve learned to relate to both rural and urban people, Canadian and American people, First Nations and Metis people, Mennonites and Baptists, wealthy and low income folks…I have made many mistakes and incurred many offenses in learning to relate to all these wonderful people.  But how rich I am for all the relationships!  To enjoy soup and bannock at a Native wake or night lunch in a Mennonite home, I have been blessed to be welcomed into so many cultures. 

I am a missionary.  My job description involves travel and people and speaking and silently praying.  I sleep in many places and take my meals at lots of different tables.  I take my turn driving and hopefully serving my husband so he can minister effectively. 

Lord, here am I; send me!