The following is a talk I gave at Keswick Ridge United Church on July 20th:

When I started to think about what I should speak on today, I wondered whether I might have a dream to share with you. If you have read my book, you'll know how dreams weave themselves into my understanding of scripture. So I wondered if that would be the case today. Sure enough, as soon as I asked myself that question, I remembered a dream I had a month ago.

I dreamed that on a lark I went to see a house that was for sale. I had no intention of buying a new house. I was out for a drive, and was curious. A new friend guided me from room to room. Part way through the first floor, I noticed a narrow winding staircase built of glistening dark wood. It wound higher and higher, to a small door at the top. It reminded me of my childhood dreams. I would climb to secret places on such a stairway, and squeeze through narrow passage ways, to find rooms full of treasures. I wanted to climb these stairs, so my friend led the way.

We climbed and climbed, until finally we were at the top. One more step. The staircase was now no wider than a toe hold. The last step was a big one. I would have to hoist myself up. Could I do it? My friend was already up over the edge, coaxing me to follow. I was afraid. I felt too big. Too heavy. I didn't know if I could manage that one last step. I was afraid I would fall, and woke up.

Not long after I remembered that dream, I found that the scripture reading for today was about Jacob's Ladder. (That sort of thing no longer surprises me.)

In Jacob's dream, he saw a ladder stretching from Earth to Heaven, with angels traveling up and down. And ---- there, was God. The story doesn't say whether Jacob saw God, or simply felt his presence, but he did hear a voice. He knew God was speaking to him, promising that he or his descendants would someday own the land where he was sleeping. Promising to be with him wherever he went, and to bring him back home.

Let's think about Jacob for a bit... Jacob was called The Usurper. The one who steals. The dishonest son. He had already managed to steal the birthright, the right of the first born. And then he tricked his father into giving him the blessing too. But was he really a thief? After all, he was doing what his mother told him to do. He was such an obedient son. So good to his mother.
Jacob was her favourite. Isaac seemed to prefer Esau.

These twin boys. Twins can be extremely close, so similar in their ways. Yet Jacob was fine featured and gentle, spending time indoors with his mom, making vegetable soup, while Esau was a rough and tumble boy, hunting, running the roads, getting the girls.

Many of you are parents. You know how hard it is to treat your children exactly the same. You try, but when they are as different as Jacob and Esau, how can you? You start to wish that parenthood came with a manual. Rebekkah probably wished that too, especially when she overheard Esau selling his birthright for a bowl of Jacob's vegetable soup.

It reminds me of a conversation my brother-in-law had with one of his friends. His friend had an old sword. He was willing to trade it for a bottle of whiskey. The deal was made. Turns out the sword was worth more than many cases of whiskey. That friend didn't know the value of it, or care. And so it was with Esau. His mother saw and understood what this would mean for their family, if Esau were in change.

Some think Rebekkah was a conniving woman, out to make her favourite son the head of the family. But Jewish commentary suggests that maybe she was simply an observant and concerned mother who knew that the blessing and the birthright and the future of her family would be better off in Jacob's hands.

Women don't have the power to make decisions like that, but we have our ways of getting the men to do what is right, in the long run. Of course, such maneuvering doesn't come easy. There are consequences. After she managed to get Jacob the official blessing, she had to fix another problem. She could see that Jacob was in danger. Esau was furious, and might do something rash.

Imagine her trying to figure out what to do. Imagine her unable to think or focus. So much was going on. Those nattering daughters-in-law. Always at it. Just the sort of girls that Esau would choose, and their children! No, it was good that Jacob had the blessing. He at least would listen to her wise counsel. Oh pray, dear King of Heaven, that Jacob not have wives like these.

And then she knew what she had to do. Jacob must go back to her own family. Home - where girls know how to behave. He would marry one of those girls. Then she would have company in this chaos. Perfect. Her plan would serve two purposes. It would put some distance between the boys, and get her a good daughter-in-law to boot.

She had no idea how long it would take, how long her favourite son would be away. Twenty years, poor woman. Perhaps you too have sent sons and daughters off into their futures, on distant journeys. You know how hard it is.

Perhaps some of you have been the son or daughter who has traveled far from home. I have been both. Thirty years ago, I set off for the west, in a Ryder truck, leaving my mother crying and waving in the driveway. At the time, I was the adventurer, off to new lands and a new life. Like Jacob, I eventually came home, bringing my family with me.

Now I too have stood in the driveway watching my son leave. I understand my mother better now. Now it is easier to put myself into Rebekkah's shoes than Jacob's. And yet, Jacob and I have each dreamed of stairways. Such dreams often come to those on a spiritual journey. Or at times of transition. Stairways and ladders are connections between two planes of existence, like airports and seashores. When we are in transition, we are less sure of ourselves. When everything around us is changing, we are more open to the voice of God. More open to being led in new directions.

So Jacob and I each dreamed of stairways. In my dream, I climbed the stairs easily, except for the last step. I was trying to make that last step on my own. I ignored the fact that there was someone there to give me a hand. All I had to do was ask. I was not alone. Nor was Jacob. God was there with him, all along the way.

Jacob woke from his dream and knew he had been in the presence of God. Yet he associated that presence with the place where he was sleeping. He stood his stone pillow on end, and poured oil over it. He said the place was holy, that it was God's house. He didn't realize that God was everywhere.

He heard God say that He would be with him wherever he went, but it must have taken a while for that idea to sink in. At the time, Jacob believed he just happened to stumble across a holy place on his journey. You may have had that experience too, in certain landscapes, where God feels particularly close.

I wonder how long it took Jacob to realize that the blessing and the birthright meant that the Presence of God would move with him, every step of the way.

Many years later, King David wrote Psalm 139, which we read together earlier. David understood. God is with us, everywhere, always. God knows my thoughts and Jacob's thoughts. He knows David's thoughts and your thoughts. He knows what we are doing. No hiding. No pretending.

Jacob was exactly where he was supposed to be - in God's presence. God knew where he was going, and where he stopped, because his entire journey was in God, with God, every step of the way. Ps. 139 says that God hems us in, behind and before, and lays his hand on us.

Some times in my life I have struggled against that protection. I didn't want God hemming me in. I wanted to live my life, to do what I wanted, and learn my own lessons. And yet, whatever I do, wherever I go, God is still there. Behind me and before me, and all around me.

Our journeys may start out as a whim, like in my dream. Yet wherever we are going, we are led, protected and known. Today, are you on a journey like Jacob? Are you running from something? Or running toward a new life? Are you afraid to take the next big step? Have you forgotten that help is there? Or are you the parent, watching your loved one head out into the unknown?

God's word then, to you, is this:

“Behold I am with thee, and will keep thee in all the places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again into this land; for I will not leave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken.”

If you are facing that big last step, reach out and take God’s hand. He is there to help. May God keep those words in our hearts and minds, as we travel each day of our lives.

(Scriptures: Ps. 139: 1-12, 23, 24, Genesis 28: 1-19a)

Posted on Thursday 07 of August, 2008 [18:43:51 UTC]

I am still filling in for my friend Barbara J. Gill as her surrogate blogger. Today I encourage you to read the post I have just submitted.

I write:

This past fall, about the same time that Barb first felt the lump in her thigh, she told me about a dream. The dream, in part, was about a phone call from her mother. Her mom wanted her to come over and visit. If Barb’s mother were still alive, this dream would not hold the energy that it did. (Barb’s mother died eight months ago.) As it was, it felt like a call from the Other Side, a call to come to where her mother now resides, a call to death.

Read on...

Posted on Sunday 27 of January, 2008 [16:39:51 UTC]

Happy New Year! 2008 is here, and I'll be blogging regularly. (A resolution? No, a favour.) You see, my friend Barb is facing surgery for a recurrence of cancer. She has asked me to be her surrogate blogger on her site, so that's where you'll find me. Hope you'll check out Barb and all she has to offer, while she is off getting well.
Alice

Posted on Wednesday 02 of January, 2008 [02:27:03 UTC]

As I write, I am in my living room, looking out the big window onto a bright sunlit snowy field. The last two Decembers, here in New Brunswick, have been mild and green. But this year, we have an expectation of a White Christmas, for sure.

Christmas is a busy time, almost always. I've been baking my prize winning recipe for Jelly Filled Sugar Cookies, and also Spiced Ginger Mounds. I've brought in nuts and candy, and food for a crowd of friends on Sunday.

Sometimes I get so tired at Christmas that I need a vacation to recuperate afterward. I want to remember, this time, to pay attention to the moments, to let them stretch into extended times of peace. Whether I am alone or with others, each moment can be a celebration and an adventure.

Wishing you all a fabulous holiday.
Alice

Posted on Friday 21 of December, 2007 [17:58:58 UTC]

This past Sunday, many of us in our little country church were astounded to learn that the sign out front had been vandalized. Scorched. Many of us were further amazed that we hadn't even noticed. We had not seen what was right in front of our eyes.

That afternoon, reading Robert Moss' book, The Three “Only” Things, I asked myself a question: If this were a dream, what would it be saying to me, or to our community? The answer was immediate: Watch for Signs.

We go through our days oblivious to the gifts of information available through coincidence, dream, and imagination, missing essential clues to prosperity, safety and happiness. This book is a potent reminder to stop regularly, even as regularly as we look at the clock, to check the “pattern of the moment.” What is happening around us and inside of us, right now?

I have long anticipated reading Moss' newest book, and the result is well worth the wait. There is magic even in the first pages, new stories I hadn't heard, and the promise that in five minutes a day one can get in touch with one's inner truth.

Dreamwork is a discipline, improved by regular practice. Yet the exercises Moss describes are easy even for a child, or rather, that what children find natural, adults need to relearn. Moss reminds the reader to play with dream, coincidence and imagination to reach a place of joyful childlike wonder.

Robert Moss has written several books on dreaming. I have each of them, heavily underlined, well thumbed, and in a place of honour on my bookshelf. The Three “Only” Things will join them, already jotted with notes, thoughts triggered by Moss' masterful prose. I expect any reader to have the same recollection of times when coincidence or dream could offer surprise and insight, if only we would stop and watch for the signs.

Posted on Wednesday 03 of October, 2007 [11:37:27 UTC]

1 Peter 1:15-16: "As he who called you is holy, be holy yourselves in all your conduct, for it is written, 'You shall be holy, for I am holy.'"

What is "holy"? The Canadian Oxford says: 1. Morally and spiritually excellent or perfect, and to be revered. 2. belonging to, devoted to, or empowered by, God. 3. Consecrated, sacred.... (From Old English and Germanic, for WHOLE.)

God is the morally and spiritually excellent and perfect one. Yet this passage urges us to be holy. Typically we hear these words and shudder despondently, as we know we cannot be perfect. We see our foibles and failures all too clearly. This holiness to which we are called is an attitude. God has called us, chosen us. When we hear that call and respond, the passage says, you SHALL be holy, BECAUSE God is holy.

God is excellent and perfect, and does not make mistakes when he calls us. How dare we say, "No, I am too imperfect," and doubt God's choice?

The attitude of holiness we are called to take is one of belonging to God, and empowerment by God, who has chosen to call us sacred and consecrated. In fact, the very ground upon which we walk is sacred too, because God has designated us as holy. Walk as that. Each step of each day's journey, each breath you take, is holy, consecrated to God.

The instruments, the bowls and ladles, used in the temple, were consecrated and holy. Were they less holy if the priest dropped them? If they fell? No more are we less holy if we fail to live what we might consider to be holy lives.

Holiness is an attitude of sacredness, belonging to God, being part of God, part of the WHOLE. This is the truth mentioned in verse 22. This is the truth which allows us to love one another deeply, constantly, from the heart, with a genuine love which accepts each and every part of God's creation as being part of ourselves and part of God, the WHOLE.

Posted on Friday 24 of August, 2007 [14:19:23 UTC]

My husband and I recently picked baskets full of chokecherries. I cooked them, strained them through the jelly bag, and made several batches of chokecherry jelly, my favourite. Most of the jelly is in smaller jars, for gifts or to savor. Small jars seem fitting for a favourite jelly.

The other day I was reading about justice, and the parable of the talents (Matt. 25: 14-30) came to mind. Jesus tells the story of a man who was going on a journey, and left his property in the hands of servants. One was given five "talents" to administer, one had two, and one received care of only one. (A talent was a unit of money, worth about fifteen years wages for a laborer, so even one talent was a large amount of money.)

When the man returned from his trip, he called his servants to account. Two had invested well, doubling the number of talents, and were rewarded. One, however, was afraid of the man, and hid the money in the ground for safe keeping. He presented the man with the one talent, still just one, and was reprimanded for not putting the money in the bank, at least, to earn some interest.

The man said, "To all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away."

That hardly seems fair. Like the old song says, "The rich get rich, and the poor get children." Why do some get so much? And others so little?

That's what got me thinking about jelly. I could keep my jelly in the pot. Imagine, a whole pot of jelly in my refrigerator all winter. But no, I put it into jars. I like big jars of jelly for making jelly-filled sugar cookies. I make lots of these bright yummy cookies at Christmas, and enjoy scooping the jelly from one big jar.

But little jars of jelly look so pretty on the table when company comes. Or a tiny thumb-sized jar is a perfect sweet addition to a gift. Little jars are precious. The jelly is just as good, and perhaps is treasured more for the smaller size.

I suppose someone might say, "I only have a tiny jar of jelly. I will put it away, safe and sound, because I have only one, and it is so small." What good does that do anyone? A tiny jelly jar, left on a shelf for years might end with a rusty lid, and spoiled.

All my jelly jars, regardless of size, are full to the brim. Every one is filled to abundance. All the jelly is mine, and I rejoice in every jar. In the same way, God fills each of us to the brim with all the abundance we are able to accept, and he rejoices in each of us. Like my jars of jelly, the ones with less are just as precious, perhaps even treasured more.

We are full of God's blessings, regardless of the size of our talent or our jelly jar. May we use them joyfully and wisely.

Posted on Sunday 19 of August, 2007 [19:48:38 UTC]

I must apologize for my quietness of late. I've been looking back in time and inside of myself. In the last few weeks, I have been re-reading old journals. My voice through all the different versions of me. Who I was and who I dreamed of becoming. Hansel and Gretel dropped crumbs as they went into the deep forest. I've gone so far into the deep forest of life, a fifty year journey already. I'm so glad my younger selves dropped crumbs in the pages of my journals.

One note I made in 1987 was from a writers' workshop I attended in Toronto. In a session on journaling, Lori Mitchener, then editor of Faith Today, told us that "the journal, next to the Bible, should be one's most honoured possession." Mine is a record of memories, fears, prayers, decision making, self-understanding, notes on books I've read, and ideas for books I might write. And my dreams.

Sometimes I search my journals for specific information. Lately I've been conducting research. Another book is formulating. The essence of it is already written, within the pages of my journal. So I have been picking up the crumbs and being quiet.

Posted on Tuesday 17 of July, 2007 [01:12:53 UTC]

Today in church we sang Leaning on the Everlasting Arms. An old hymn, 120 years old actually, that was written after a death, and often played at funerals. Consequently, it reminds me of the elderly. I see an old woman leaning on someone's arm, tottering slowly to a nearby destination.

Today, I remembered walking with a friend who loves to walk arm in arm. We were laughing and carrying on as we walked down the street. Arm in arm, in close, comforting, mutual support.

With that memory in mind, I listened more closely to the words of the hymn, and imagined walking down the street that way with Jesus. As the lyrics say, “What have I to dread, what have I to fear, leaning on the everlasting arms?” I think I could walk down the most dangerous street or through the darkest forest, if I were walking with Jesus like that.

At the front of our church hangs a banner which says, “Peace on Earth, Goodwill to All.” The picture is of a lion and a lamb, snuggled together, and surrounded by other animals. Safety in the most unlikely of places.

The final stroke of the morning service was a song by Josh Groban, “You Raise Me Up”. This song took me back to my last post, about the Gilmore Girls, and the Hay Maze. Lifted up on Jesus' shoulders, as this song states, we are more than what we can be on our own. Strong and safe.

Posted on Sunday 06 of May, 2007 [15:55:27 UTC]

Last night I watched the Gilmore Girls, a new episode called Hay Bale Maze. I haven't had a chance to watch this show for ages, and was happy to chance upon an actual new episode.

This morning, my Bible reading took me to Hosea 2:6. God putting a hedge, a wall of thornbushes, around Gomer, Hosea's wife, so she could not return successfully to her life as a prostitute.

I remember my mother praying that God would put a hedge around this one or that one (and probably around me too), so that he or she could not go deeply into paths of unrighteousness. A protective uncomfortable hedge.

Usually I would see this as a hedge around an open space, but after having seen the huge hay bale maze on Gilmore Girls last night, I saw a maze instead. I saw people lost in the maze, going down path after path, and not finding their way to their goal.

On Gilmore Girls, the solution was to wave or call to the guy on stilts, Kirk, whose job it was to see the way, and to direct the paths of the lost.

Oh to have someone tall enough to see past the mazes we get ourselves into! And we do! There is a Guide, who knows the maze of life, and He knows the way. In fact, He IS the Way.

If we look to Jesus, He can show us the way to go. My thanks to Gilmore Girls for this excellent picture of a helper from above.

Posted on Wednesday 18 of April, 2007 [13:05:14 UTC]