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.