tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964124362957121542024-03-19T02:33:48.479-07:00RETIREMENT MEMOIRSI reflect with pleasure and gratitude over three score and twenty years before the memories fade. Nostalgic random autobio stories from a life and occasional commentary on current events and people in my life. © Ron UnruhRonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.comBlogger650125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-77211408748103418912024-01-02T10:51:00.000-08:002024-01-02T11:48:49.315-08:00LIKE THE MORNING SUN ... My latest book, released Nov 2023 ... take a look<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span><a href="https://www.amazon.ca/LIKE-MORNING-SUN-Personal-Spiritual/dp/0993934285/ref=sr_1_1?crid=4B4LSECAG42&keywords=ron+unruh+books&qid=1704037795&sprefix=ron+unruh%2Caps%2C1757&sr=8-1" style="font-family: verdana;"><b><span style="color: #ffa400;"><u><i>‘Like the Morning Sun’</i></u></span></b> </a><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">illuminates the profound legacy of Mennonite families in Canada. Ron Unruh's family journey unfolds, revealing tales of devotion, tenacity, and unyielding faith. Dive into this historical gem that transcends ten generations. <a href="https://www.amazon.ca/LIKE-MORNING-SUN-Personal-Spiritual/dp/0993934285/ref=sr_1_1?crid=4B4LSECAG42&keywords=ron+unruh+books&qid=1704037795&sprefix=ron+unruh%2Caps%2C1757&sr=8-1">AMAZON LINK</a></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjpg4nHpUH7_46SZoksjubZcMAmWgDcL8Bg4YIKN5cWilidk44fK1Xx2GiH8AkOjGOWe1hQMKIRMCM2edZt1qZNssof58d7oBcwWACbE-wzy1lSEeoaP7UCFCQUrAmpaD1AJCjRqoRozSquPciRx4452wVwK7w0LdyQvXlBEdv_BxiNNPCdhiF4Mk1lw2E" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1206" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjpg4nHpUH7_46SZoksjubZcMAmWgDcL8Bg4YIKN5cWilidk44fK1Xx2GiH8AkOjGOWe1hQMKIRMCM2edZt1qZNssof58d7oBcwWACbE-wzy1lSEeoaP7UCFCQUrAmpaD1AJCjRqoRozSquPciRx4452wVwK7w0LdyQvXlBEdv_BxiNNPCdhiF4Mk1lw2E" width="151" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Descendants of Mennonite immigrants from South Russia to the Canadian Prairies will find 'Like the Morning Sun' a charmingly informative read. The author, 81-year-old Ron Unruh, initially sought to leave a record of his life and ancestors for his siblings, children, and grandchildren. A commonality exists between his family story and thousands of others that are rooted in the same socio-religious heritage. The Unruh, Loewen, Doerksen, Fast, and Willems lineages in this book, represent the broader Mennonite community. They are heirs to theology emerging from the Protestant Reformation, particularly the convictions of Anabaptist believers known as Mennonites. Settling in Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and Alberta, these family histories embody lessons of devotion, tenacity, and faithfulness, transcending Ron Unruh's personal narrative. 'Like the Morning Sun,' serves as a rich historical resource, exploring the enduring commitment of Mennonites to faithfulness despite challenges with state churches, other faith traditions, and political leaders from 1500-1900 AD. The subtitle, 'A Personal and Family Spiritual Portrait,' reflects the notable pursuit of ten generations of five families who exemplified the inspirational truth of Proverbs 4:18, "The path of the righteous is like the morning sun, shining ever brighter till the full light of day." </span><a href="https://www.amazon.ca/LIKE-MORNING-SUN-Personal-Spiritual/dp/0993934285/ref=sr_1_1?crid=4B4LSECAG42&keywords=ron+unruh+books&qid=1704037795&sprefix=ron+unruh%2Caps%2C1757&sr=8-1">AMAZON LINK</a></span></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /><o:p></o:p></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-69771814470282852212023-06-17T07:22:00.005-07:002023-06-17T07:42:20.382-07:00MAYBE, MY LAST SERMON<div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My five grandchildren were all too young to ever hear me preach.</div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Sunday June 4 I preached twice @ 9am and 10:45am.</div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I did better the 2nd time. The recording was of the 1st. Too bad. I had trouble seeing my brief notes in the dim lighting. 2nd time, I fixed that, and I also had more control of my thoughts. </div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'SOUND THEOLOGY IS ESSENTIAL FOR LIVING A RIGHTEOUS LIFE' - Backstory: Paul started many churches in Galatia, comprised of Jews and gentiles converted to Christ. Some Jewish Christians couldn't shake their dependence on being justified by works as well. Paul was a by grace alone, by faith alone, in Christ alone theologian. This letter is his attempt to correct their thinking.</div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here is the link the church website, <span style="color: #222222;"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://crossridge.church/404-2/sound-theology-is-essential-for-living-a-righteous-life/&source=gmail&ust=1687097811138000&usg=AOvVaw3vrLyAsQrnxHf0tVFlxh0B" href="https://crossridge.church/404-2/sound-theology-is-essential-for-living-a-righteous-life/" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">https://crossridge.<wbr></wbr>church/404-2/sound-theology-<wbr></wbr>is-essential-for-living-a-<wbr></wbr>righteous-life/</a></span></div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And here is the link on Youtube. <span style="color: #222222;"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v%3D0x2P-gS6twc&source=gmail&ust=1687097811138000&usg=AOvVaw1mCdkvmY5Qcg64u1VdEF9t" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0x2P-gS6twc" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.<wbr></wbr>com/watch?v=0x2P-gS6twc</a></span></div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My sermon begins at the 23 min mark.</div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have thought it was my last sermon before. I feel it again. I love preparing, and I am comfortable preaching ... at least I think I do. But I likely do not know myself. Christine says I've been wound up tighter than a drum for one month. On Sunday afternoon I was exhausted; I napped and woke to joint pain all over as tho my PMR was returning. I'm OK, Mon and Tues I am fine. My wiring for the stress is shot perhaps - stress that I create for myself, expecting too much, leaning on my stupid perfectionist bent. </div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLaXxX0i-81ZPCp3OZj8ZgJ7pisL3Jph6ylNZmnh1y_pzByUHlDDUWRW94sY7VH045spYoDjAYwVV1X7nYEsFPI4exKoFVTTrW3iRQgQqNYGcZixLJn8jinDCOEQ7MGIVXv34-Diq9lUWxDvH7A7l0XWM1BQ2KnzdOx5wkrdVPDPYBylzRsdEN-iG/s512/d7b6ef0e-5f17-43d2-aa12-6a0958f862d8.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="512" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLaXxX0i-81ZPCp3OZj8ZgJ7pisL3Jph6ylNZmnh1y_pzByUHlDDUWRW94sY7VH045spYoDjAYwVV1X7nYEsFPI4exKoFVTTrW3iRQgQqNYGcZixLJn8jinDCOEQ7MGIVXv34-Diq9lUWxDvH7A7l0XWM1BQ2KnzdOx5wkrdVPDPYBylzRsdEN-iG/s320/d7b6ef0e-5f17-43d2-aa12-6a0958f862d8.heic" width="320" /></a></div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="gmail_default" style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The best thing for me among so many friends who heard I would be there and who showed up from other churches, were my own 5 grandchildren. </div>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-53994567947687113022023-06-17T06:51:00.001-07:002023-06-17T07:04:56.543-07:00I'M NOT ALL GONE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY9jcTqEPhjcw296q17tZQLoLSnEc9ViGj1pYlYNyd6R753hURCnNXA9PEwVk7SyGwvzAFv8lYLFv0gu9fLo1k4ryJfjTdXCX0FdnWqHhb-LnsgfUYQLJuCbBWw77YUafT1pam7n23Q5onquSk2oOgS-TbhwFkvNOVDa7KoseC0PYF3Xfuprpsv8wu/s384/27336443_10213300698604636_1882055633329982263_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I’M NOT ALL GONE (a poem)</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Though I spent a lifetime providing counsel,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">helping people to navigate life.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Don’t ask an eighty-year-old to give advice<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">in those fields where my knowledge is thin.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">People like me haven’t learned to say “No.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Auto-pilot altruistically kicks in, and</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I grope in vain for the off switch.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">No lack of self-confidence <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">but short-term memory is shot.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Haven’t won Jeopardy any time lately.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">No worries, I have Google, my uber intellect.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">What I don’t know, I know in an instant.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">You ask me for help, you get what I got.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Ask succinctly and loudly, my hearing is gone.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Ask about life, and love and loss,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Those are close to me now. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">If when you tell me what’s going on,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">you may see me tear up, ‘cause I understand.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">If when you tear up, I hold your hand,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">you will sense I know someone who<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">knows more than Google or AI,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">who has what you need if we ask him together.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">© Ron Unruh, June 2023<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"> <o:p></o:p></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-87299121655494558882023-03-22T06:22:00.002-07:002023-04-20T20:25:29.884-07:00CONNIE<div dir="auto" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">CONNIE</span></b></div><div dir="auto" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWmQoopaGw8XNzH9UPjEk5LjxmIr9oQGh8lVV_kTFg-SyDS-HceN8roO4igwnFABbprLLaW4UA7_XtzUipvUfy4jl5BywGlMhCPun8bMV8P-VjNa_PUuBNHGIHhNMtTY_kTi8fDp0beoB5jNBwtBlFcCuvkPiI3IAddJTU49GPaRsZsO_RF0J_ZOl7/s640/IMG_9630.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWmQoopaGw8XNzH9UPjEk5LjxmIr9oQGh8lVV_kTFg-SyDS-HceN8roO4igwnFABbprLLaW4UA7_XtzUipvUfy4jl5BywGlMhCPun8bMV8P-VjNa_PUuBNHGIHhNMtTY_kTi8fDp0beoB5jNBwtBlFcCuvkPiI3IAddJTU49GPaRsZsO_RF0J_ZOl7/w261-h196/IMG_9630.jpeg" width="261" /></a></div>A gravel path winds through the park surrounded by forests of evergreen, alders, and cottonwood. Connie walks to the park every day. Down an apartment elevator, pushing a four wheeled walker, she crossed a busy street, and slowly made her way to the large pond. Her purse and bags of seed purchased at Wild Birds Unlimited were positioned on her walker. Varieties of ducks heard her coming. So did I yesterday. Standing on the far side of the pond, I heard her wheels on <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>gravel before I saw her. </div><div dir="auto" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ducks on water moved toward me at Connie’s feeding station. </div><div dir="auto" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rounding a corner, ducks on land followed Connie as she walked toward me, small steps, duck steps. Connie is less than five feet tall, eighty-eight years old, came to Canada fifty years ago, constantly cheerful, an inspiration. Her hands, fingers with severe knuckles bent from arthritis dipped into the seed bag. Ducks from the path waited. Ducks from the water climbed the banks. With her restricted arm movement, she tossed seed toward her friends. To me she said, “Take some, you can throw it farther.” She and I talked in the warming sunshine, looking into each other’s watery senior eyes. We talked about pets. Ducks are her pets now. She used to have two cats. Each lived about eighteen years. She won’t get another cat now. “I’m eighty-eight. Who will look after them?”</div><div dir="auto" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div><br /><div dir="auto" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-2224858442146867062022-12-05T11:31:00.002-08:002023-06-17T07:07:25.309-07:00MY BRIEF SYNOPSIS OF REVELATION<p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">MY BRIEF SYNOPSIS OF REVELATION</span></b><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #0b5394;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #0b5394;">John, was the friend of Jesus, gospel writer and evangelist. The purpose of Jesus’ incarnation was so real and empowering to John. He watched Jesus die. He saw him alive again. He saw Jesus ascend through clouds and out of sight. He knew everything Jesus said about the devil and sin and redemption, and the Kingdom were true. He wrote that God loved the world so much that He sent the divine Son, Jesus, so whomever believes in Jesus will have eternal life. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(11, 83, 148);"><br /></span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFfWdTUDbbK6Y4Q7dvw9BBwdsJDChB7ycfVaPN7fTYu2tjqTz9C_h6hHgtj7hE25yoncimw0jhUQkrIw2SoNKPr9BsoiG_BPCu0UEH25K3bQpumfPgtNkOmfDqTAZwTFy1gZP6nEK4tJYIMbc7QYqgzOwHmWwx674Hkhij_c95cypruB5Ux_QXAFCi" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="750" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFfWdTUDbbK6Y4Q7dvw9BBwdsJDChB7ycfVaPN7fTYu2tjqTz9C_h6hHgtj7hE25yoncimw0jhUQkrIw2SoNKPr9BsoiG_BPCu0UEH25K3bQpumfPgtNkOmfDqTAZwTFy1gZP6nEK4tJYIMbc7QYqgzOwHmWwx674Hkhij_c95cypruB5Ux_QXAFCi=w385-h204" width="385" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #0b5394;">John heard Jesus alert his followers to the fact that in this world where sin is prevalent, being faithful to God as follower of Christ is difficult and dangerous. John was sent to the island of Patmos as a prisoner of the Roman State. Before Jesus died, John heard Jesus promise that though he was leaving, he would send His Holy Spirit to be with them and in them. Now on the island, John found himself possessed powerfully by the Holy Spirit, as the LORD gave him a vision of the future. We read that this vision contained an immediate message to each of seven churches that existed at that time. Those messages contained commendations, warnings and promises. Since this is inspired scripture from God, the information to the churches is transferable to churches in every age, because evil exists in every age. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Jesus’ earthly work and his prayerful intention was and is that all the people whom the Father gave to Jesus should be with him where he is presently. That is what the book of Revelation was telling the congregations of the seven churches and is telling us. How unspeakably glorious that is going to be for us when God takes us individually to be with him. As those early believers discovered, and until we ourselves arrive in God’s heavenly presence, there is much through which we struggle on planet earth because Satan and sin has ruined so much. John cannot adequately describe his vision in ordinary, everyday terms. Instead, he uses language suitable to the grandeur and greatness of what he sees. It’s apocalyptic language, and it was used in other inspired passages of the Bible before John used it. It’s full of numbers and symbols and overstated descriptions that must be treated emblematically. They denote truths underlying the astonishing imageries. As we read it now, two thousand years later, we must be careful to read the vision details as closely as we can, as the first century readers would have understood it. We must let symbols be symbols. We must teach ourselves the previous meanings behind these same flamboyant images and meaningful numbers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Intimidation, opposition and cruelty against Christians was undeniable when John wrote the book and is indisputable now. Persecution of Christians by other people of faith and by godless governments was real in century one, and has been ever since then. Of course, the first century Christians would not have imagined that world time would last so long as it has. They couldn’t have thought in terms of 2022. They couldn’t envision a church in the city of Rome becoming a monolithic power over the known world, by being allied with the most powerful Roman civil government and its armed forces. They wouldn’t have imagined the extent of corruption that would characterize a church called Christian. They couldn’t dream how intense would be the horrors and attacks and losses suffered by believers over an extremely long time. They wouldn’t have considered Christ’s loving message could generate so much hatred on earth, that professing Christians would murder one another over differences in faith. They had no thought that a Reformation would occur and reformers would not agree with one another and the church would be so divided that unity of faith is unknown. They may not have appreciated their current opposition was just a small part of an extended earth-shattering conflict between the Prince of this world and the King of Kings. Yet all of this is what John’s vision concerned and it isn’t over yet. There has been two thousand years of unrelenting tribulation. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #0b5394;">As 21<sup>st</sup> century readers, we must be careful not to project an interpretation of this book into some future far beyond ourselves so that we fail to recognize where we actually are in this continuum. We easily interpret a short-lived tribulation from which we escape, when we should remember the awful tribulation of Christ’s church that has been going on ever since he left earth. We should be concentrating upon how we then should be living so that we stand strong in the storm if it intensifies where we live as it is for so many believers in other countries. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #0b5394;">What the seven church congregations were to understand and what bolsters our endurance, is the closing description of how God’s people experience and endure on earth until at last God takes us individually home and until he closes the book with a resounding victory over evil and we are forever with the LORD. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 19.85pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-15976574857777461022022-11-29T06:23:00.005-08:002023-04-20T20:27:56.602-07:00A CHRISTIAN’S VIEW OF CREATION<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMEBpSApU9ixwxFRr4iSBAlorjBHowSZwUEVFh5f8-deDdVPC0LmSghnR1Ac8V_qJQ6Y-_eSYFVZYUY8el-n23zmAmkSioP3weK7pYXa_mOheZ4asFyqDlXAIBfgYaWAGh_RLZS_svMF2EDEi6aTvqna-i8sWZLXfXpJv1PO1CMuVQ4-b4p5ca1Fe/s1200/14835-istockgetty-images-plusmargarita-balashova.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="1200" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMEBpSApU9ixwxFRr4iSBAlorjBHowSZwUEVFh5f8-deDdVPC0LmSghnR1Ac8V_qJQ6Y-_eSYFVZYUY8el-n23zmAmkSioP3weK7pYXa_mOheZ4asFyqDlXAIBfgYaWAGh_RLZS_svMF2EDEi6aTvqna-i8sWZLXfXpJv1PO1CMuVQ4-b4p5ca1Fe/w386-h202/14835-istockgetty-images-plusmargarita-balashova.jpg" width="386" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">The only exclusive timeless spiritual being, Triune God, surrounded by spiritual creatures, angels who worship and serve God eternally, decided to create a species of physical beings, unique, humanity, in whom God would invest a divine similarity. A delicate feature. There would be affinity between God and humanity. To affect this plan, God created a universe of galaxies, and in one galaxy he made one planet suitable to human physical life. Humanity, with this divine resemblance, both genders, should enjoy Earth and wisely govern this jewel of a planet. God was pleased with creation. Because God knows all things, ends from beginnings, even then God knew humanity would fail to maintain God’s likeness. Sin would interrupt the affinity God had with humanity. Sin changed humanity. Transience and Mortality. God’s penalty on sin. Still God loved this Earth full of people. God’s plan in eternity was to restore this Godlikeness, this affinity in humanity. Restoration would result from God’s greatest of all time demonstration of love. The death penalty would be paid. God determined to take on a human form to briefly reside on planet Earth, then die. God’s eternality would conquer death. Penalty served. Sin’s interruption arrested. God’s prerogative. The benefit to humanity, contingent on individual faith in the efficacy of God’s death. Plus, a promise. Eternal life with God for the believer. It worked. It works.</span><p></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-42933709335536393842022-11-04T04:46:00.004-07:002023-04-20T20:29:08.379-07:00SHE'S EVERYTHING<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xW-dHB889bVQLBBvgeAILd0bgO1PbmeId80RFPM1E5R3_UR2OZHNV3yba4kdv2CjiNJtwnDDIYyHeslwPkHHquMYmjWkCKlq5YZspLFQSEPIsSNelSWTkkNHfYvOHlEspNAUM8H46AMv47tt6BXDYs_MIw6sVrW7Ck5ESGj0T8xzyBF5_MFJM2jm/s1280/IMG_1178.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3xW-dHB889bVQLBBvgeAILd0bgO1PbmeId80RFPM1E5R3_UR2OZHNV3yba4kdv2CjiNJtwnDDIYyHeslwPkHHquMYmjWkCKlq5YZspLFQSEPIsSNelSWTkkNHfYvOHlEspNAUM8H46AMv47tt6BXDYs_MIw6sVrW7Ck5ESGj0T8xzyBF5_MFJM2jm/w200-h150/IMG_1178.jpeg" title="Nov 1, 2022 Christine and Ron" width="200" /></a></div><span lang="EN-US"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">SHE’S EVERYTHING</span></b><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">She shimmers, still, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">in my eyes, like a star in the wave,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Reflected for only me, no one else around, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">No one in her gaze. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">She is satisfied with me, after all this time,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Though I am not what I was, when I was delighted with myself,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Young and strong and able, and she called me handsome,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Her love, so tight, and me with a future and resolve.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Were she young now, she would pass me by, pleasant old guy.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Instead, she came with me, through all our years,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Or I with her, I’d follow her forever, she’s everything.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">She shimmers, all colours of stunning, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">And we’re here together, now, and always, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">I wanted that, for all my life, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">And she, hand clasping mine, squeezes, yes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">© Ron Unruh, Nov 3, 2022<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-70051080458071660662022-10-17T11:00:00.003-07:002023-06-17T07:14:51.387-07:00 'PAYING ATTENTION TO JESUS IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN BEING BUSY.'<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span style="text-align: left;"><b style="text-decoration: underline;">MEN'S BREAKFAST TALK OCT 15 2022 .. </b>this was a talk to a group of men one Saturday morning. The breakfast was sponsored by CrossRidge Church, Cloverdale BC. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgkd4EPYp7cw1LwwZ_2-KdeiU--OCInu2goPFjDetIHdeljVft1CYziTEzDUGC0ji1EzRNvjpza6HSNd8cuuEQBhmTKah-EqvEbIpUvBEbdWscfYD2-obzz9cx5sh1an7AoH6OxUgW8eRidAO8w_TJW8qxsfDkl2GlAp9sPJniD36rJ_sW3xI2mRw/s530/Marthas-and-Marys.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgkd4EPYp7cw1LwwZ_2-KdeiU--OCInu2goPFjDetIHdeljVft1CYziTEzDUGC0ji1EzRNvjpza6HSNd8cuuEQBhmTKah-EqvEbIpUvBEbdWscfYD2-obzz9cx5sh1an7AoH6OxUgW8eRidAO8w_TJW8qxsfDkl2GlAp9sPJniD36rJ_sW3xI2mRw/s320/Marthas-and-Marys.jpeg" width="290" /></a></div><span style="color: #e06666;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">Luke 10 </span><sup><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">38 </span></sup><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">Now as they went on their way, Jesus</span></i><i><sup><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">4</span></sup></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"> entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. </span></i><i><sup><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">39 </span></sup></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching. </span></i><i><sup><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">40 </span></sup></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” </span></i><i><sup><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">41 </span></sup></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">But the Lord answered her, </span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">“Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things,</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span></i><i><sup><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">42 </span></sup></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">but one thing is necessary.</span></i><i><sup><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">5</span></sup></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"> Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”</span></i></span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">This sounds like a passage appropriate for a Women’s brunch not a Men’s’ Breakfast. Yet the lesson is not gender specific.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">The village that Jesus entered was Bethany. A family became Jesus’ cherished friends. Martha and Mary are mentioned here. They had a brother named Lazarus. This brief anecdote contrasts the behaviours of the two women in the presence of Jesus. It was a big deal to have Jesus visit your house. Martha could hardly wait to feed him, preparing foods and serving him. Mary could hardly wait to be fed, sitting enthralled and listening to Kingdom words coming from the King. Then Martha became annoyed. When she complained to Jesus that Mary wasn’t helping her and asked Jesus to reprimand Mary, Jesus gently told Martha, “Martha, you’re consumed with worries about secondary matters. Mary has made the better choice. I won’t take that away from her.” – But isn’t food important? Martha didn’t ask that. I am supposing natural follow-up questions. Of course, food is important but when that household of guests became hungry, and if Martha had not prepared it, wouldn’t there be someone else who could do it? Jesus could have made something. I mean, Jesus turned water into wine one time, and he turned a boy’s lunch into a meal for a few thousand people. He was not a magician. He was divine. Listen to him. He existed in the beginning, and everything was made by him. He is wise and holy. Listen to him. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"> <br /><span></span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">The lesson from the Mary and Martha story is this: <b>Paying attention to Jesus is more important than being busy.</b> That lesson has recently been meant for me. I want to tell you why.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">I was a shy, introverted kid and youth. What I had was an artist’s eye since I was a child. I could paint dry portraits and paint landscapes at age ten. I became a Christian at the age of ten. Art was my passion. Art was my career choice. My application was ready for Ontario College of Art. God interrupted me with an unmistakable call to me and a distinct change of my plans. God wanted me, wanted me in His Word, wanted me praying. I enrolled in Bible College, married Christine, and God transformed me into a church pastor. The outcome has been forty plus years pastoring four churches and serving as president of a denomination of 150 churches. It has involved earning a master’s degree and a doctorate, studying constantly, officiating 200 weddings, a thousand funerals, preaching several thousand sermons, counselling, mentoring, visiting hundreds. I have been a <b>busy person all of my adult life</b>. But I also listened to Jesus a lot and talked to him a lot. My entire working life was soundly done on a foundation of scripture and prayer. I have been devout. It’s been a wonderful life. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">The busyness was purposeful obedience to Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 14.15pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">I was 27 years old, and I was a pastoral candidate at <b>Calvary Bible Church</b> in Smiths Falls ON. The church invited me to be their pastor. The denominational brass advised me, “Don’t consider it. You are a lamb going to the slaughter.” Why did they tell me that? The church had released three pastors within the previous five years. My faith filled response was, “I believe God has called me to go there.” During my second year, Charlie Paul, one of the church’s rigid fundamentalist vocal and influential elders took issue with something I had done and after a morning service he refused to shake my hand but had caustic words for me. I drove Christine and our two children home, and I went to Charlie’s house. I was a novice. How was I to handle this with a man twice my age? I remembered that David had picked up five stones to face Goliath. So, I selected five passages of scripture to read to Charlie. Charlie answered my knock at his door and at my invitation he sat in my car. We calmly discussed our strained relationship and got nowhere, and then I asked him for permission to read God’s Word. Like a stone in David’s sling, the Word of God hit Charlie and he began to cry, and he acknowledged how unfitting his conduct was between brothers in Christ. Charlie’s and my relationship right then developed the tensile strength that could resist any stretching. <b>I was so impressed with the power of the Word of God; the way God’s Spirit invested it with power.</b> Years later when I submitted my resignation to the elders, Charlie said, “Ron, we don’t want to see you go, but if God has called you elsewhere, go with our blessing. You have taught us how to love.” Many more years passed, and I was pastoring another church closer to Toronto, where on a certain day I had travelled to Toronto and I was sitting in a seminary classroom taking an M.Div. course. To my shock, Charlie showed up unannounced. He was standing at the window of the classroom door. I motioned him to come in. We hugged. He sat in the desk beside mine for the entire class session. Then we talked. He had driven six hours from his home. He had come to see me. He now had terminal cancer. Charlie was saying goodbye. He loved me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 14.15pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">I attended a Blue Jays’ game at the old Exhibition Stadium before Skydome was built, now Rogers Centre. I was there with a friend. Two friends of his showed up. One of those me was Don McMullen, who lived in Peterborough where I was then pastoring <b>Ferndale Bible Church</b>. The following week he bought me a coffee because he wanted to ask me questions about Christianity, the Bible and faith. After 2 hours I invited him to church on Sunday morning and to come for lunch at my home and to bring his questions. For four hours we looked at scripture to answer questions. Two weeks later he was convinced Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God and he gave his life to Christ. He and I met every Monday for months to study scripture. He was hungry. He quit his managerial department store position, enrolled in Bible College, became a husband and missionary and parent, and then a successful entrepreneurial businessman and today is president of a Christian publishing company, Everyday Publications. He still walks with Christ and serves him. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 14.15pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Lynn Welch and her four children came to Sunday School and church. The commute was easy. She lived directly across the street from the church. Her husband Gary did not attend. Each good weather Sunday, he sat on his front steps with a cigarette in one hand and a beer can in the other. We would greet one another. Gary and I couldn’t miss one another. Our parsonage was beside the church separated by a parking lot. Many months went by until one day he asked me “What is this all about? This church thing, Christianity?” We sat down for hours to read what the Bible had to say. Gary put his trust in Christ. “What now?” he asked. I said, “Now we spend time together every week learning what it means to follow Jesus and serve him with our lives.” His spiritual growth was obvious. Two years later he was elected to the elders’ board and two years more, he was the chairman.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 14.15pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Jim was another unbelieving husband of a woman who attended our church, but he was not averse to attending social gatherings where there was fun and food. At one of those fun evenings, with limited seating in a farmhouse, he and I sat together on the floor with our backs to the wall. He was curious about faith and that resulted in his invitation to me to visit him in his home to talk about his questions. I went one week, and then at the second week, God’s light broke in upon him. He knelt at his couch and prayed for forgiveness and for Christ to be his Saviour. Then he jumped up and said I have to tell met mother and my brother. He got on the phone and talked to them. Over the following two weeks Jim’s mother, his brother Steve and Steve’s girlfriend Mary, accepted Christ. Jim, a lab tech, resigned that hospital position and he and Vicki and their children went to Prairie Bible College. After graduation he was employed at the college, upgraded his education and he eventually became Dean of Students. His brother Steve followed him to school and is still today a pastor.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 14.15pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Being busy like that for me was so fulfilling. 40 plus years of doing things and accomplishing stuff.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 14.15pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Helvetica;">Last month on the 13th day, I marked 80 full years on planet earth. These last ten years have been bonus years according to </span><span style="color: #e06666;"><b><u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">Psalm 90:10. </span></u></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">“</span><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.”</span></i></span><i style="color: #0b5394;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"> </span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Helvetica;">So predictably I’ve had 70 years, and reasonably good health has afforded me 80 years. But I’m not to be overly excited about it because the proviso is that these so-called bonus years are difficult toil and trouble and then life is over and I fly away. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 14.15pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">But until I fly away, I have some questions for myself. What about now. Who am I? Where am I in life? What am I doing? I have been retired for 14 years. I have stayed occupied, no problem. I have filled those years with painting portraits and landscapes, writing books, marshalling at a golf course, playing golf, preaching occasionally and grand-parenting and being a friendly neighbour. Sure, in all that activity I try to be light and salt and the presence of Christ. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 14.15pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">But here it is</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;">, <b>the tie in for me to Mary and Martha</b>. Somehow, I felt in retirement that I was entitled to be a little less disciplined with my bible study and prayer life. <b><u>That’s why Jesus’ lesson to Martha hit me.</u></b><b><i>Paying attention to Jesus is more important than being busy.</i></b> Men, I know this is not alcoholics anonymous, but this is my public confession today. Even when my busyness is for him, if I have forgotten or neglected attention and time with Him, I have chosen the inferior thing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">I wouldn’t admit that to you publicly if I didn’t intend it to be a wakeup call to you, if it applies to you. Wherever you are in life, your age, your job, your education, whatever … make sure you know what the primary thing in life is,<b> Listening to and talking with Jesus. Reading the Bible and praying. </b>This is the only place where we find calm in the midst of the chaos around us, guidance for the decisions we will need to make, composure and information for the net person who comes to us and asks us, “What this all about?” </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAgwK_Hk_iuOVMDQi1pfmzWKJm62b1oIzOOiQkXU6UpRGuJ0jVpZU0gAemTXtRKUsidp46mi0oRarwQwy7TWTvy2x87f85f2zTTX_-ZPZ4_oUmnVXdxweE0rfcdCvvuP5wIqFDz_yXV-LSnNe81dAr20krN08bKn6cl48APCNo-6wa9zUTp-IHs-3Y/s640/DSCN1171.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="516" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAgwK_Hk_iuOVMDQi1pfmzWKJm62b1oIzOOiQkXU6UpRGuJ0jVpZU0gAemTXtRKUsidp46mi0oRarwQwy7TWTvy2x87f85f2zTTX_-ZPZ4_oUmnVXdxweE0rfcdCvvuP5wIqFDz_yXV-LSnNe81dAr20krN08bKn6cl48APCNo-6wa9zUTp-IHs-3Y/w151-h187/DSCN1171.jpeg" width="151" /></a></span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 16pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></span></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-84829065316742793182022-04-03T13:45:00.000-07:002022-04-03T13:45:03.189-07:00OUR DEAR DAD<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWOfxypfLRtbjreI3bzLc6JgX6Ky15tpH1O_KsGRmo0K3Tgx6qqZgm052bpVxDaPEr8O5-zPpxR4bQn2tDuC7_lA_WnG6Oe9_mgqXx9Ytfv2AdSG1Ow1QNz6ZY5d4Xl5tC-aUsqSEEkRci1yABycAX7Fc7W2qCw7s6DW0xCeo1sJFhCFFB3eex1Jj/s1328/Dad.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1328" data-original-width="1102" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWOfxypfLRtbjreI3bzLc6JgX6Ky15tpH1O_KsGRmo0K3Tgx6qqZgm052bpVxDaPEr8O5-zPpxR4bQn2tDuC7_lA_WnG6Oe9_mgqXx9Ytfv2AdSG1Ow1QNz6ZY5d4Xl5tC-aUsqSEEkRci1yABycAX7Fc7W2qCw7s6DW0xCeo1sJFhCFFB3eex1Jj/w166-h200/Dad.JPG" width="166" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Thinking of my Dad. He enjoyed humour. His was subtle. He could make us smile. Like this moment when he was in his early 90’s. My brother Murray tells it as he experienced it. “It was the second to the last year of mom’s life. My patient dad never complained about the complications caused by the late stages of Alzheimer’s that mom was experiencing. She had become rather serious about packing belongings in boxes that she lined up on the bed. Anything and everything could be packed or unpacked depending on the moment. One day upon my arrival at their apartment, Dad asked me if I would like some coffee. I nodded affirmatively and he plugged in the kettle. Of course it was instant coffee but a good brand. I went to the cutlery drawer to fetch a spoon and found the cutlery gone. When I inquired where the forks, knives and spoons were, Dad said nonchalantly. "Oh, Tina must have packed them." Then with perfect timing and humour he added, "It really doesn't matter, she packed my teeth too."<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- He left us at the age of 93 on May 1, 2008. <br /></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-73857223754088872342022-03-25T09:18:00.004-07:002022-03-25T09:18:42.835-07:00PEACEMAKER<p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Is there a person of international influence who can make peace by reconciling Russia with Ukraine? No. Is reconciliation plausible? Achievable? No. The issue is not between Russia and Ukraine. It's Putin vs Ukraine. Makes all the difference. Putin calls his invasionary soldiers, peacekeepers. Euphemism. On War day 29 Putin refuses to have peace-talk with Zelenskyy. Not surprising.</span></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-34171811764268970302022-03-25T09:17:00.004-07:002022-03-25T09:17:40.515-07:00LET’S MAKE A DEAl<p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">A peace deal? No! No deal! Deal with Putin. Ukraine & Russia have talked. Freedom versus capitulation. No deal. Won’t deal. Shelling continues. Obliterating cityscapes & civilians. The Free World Summit options for a deal. Circuitous. Indecisive. What’s the deal? Break Putin’s resolve. Castigate. Punish. That’s the deal. Enough</span></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-36507486816209601002022-03-25T09:16:00.003-07:002022-03-25T09:16:46.243-07:00PUTIN’S WAR<p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">IT IS A WAR. Putin made it a war. It’s Putin’s war. It’s not his to win. Putin will lose more than this war. He’s lost respect. Putin’s armies are dispirited. He’s lost his edge. He’s lost his mind. United democracies condemn him. He’s lost his place. The G12 of industrially advanced countries does not include him and Russia. The G7 included Russia in 1997 and became G8. That will change. He may yet choose chemical weapons. NATO will decisively end Putin’s war. In time he’ll lose veneration of Russians and may garner disgust. He may lose his life. In the wake of Putin, millions of people have lost hope and homes and life.</span></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-64760724998255782802022-02-17T07:23:00.000-08:002022-02-17T07:23:53.632-08:00I APOLOGIZE<div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi6RjRpQy5B9BjNX8iO1SEKqS-mRTMjIXYWu_wWzwWYgnUtw_WeqIDiAsLdxLfwd_EKrEPc4Die3SGeooKecuhjv693AqzXJJgoOOE-KhM-AenW_kEvVc2RTehDs4IaoBh9-h6el7cwn1s1m4nBD5AiVl9-QS4b59VKoE7cbSMQjUwKhb9l39q68xAG=s300" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi6RjRpQy5B9BjNX8iO1SEKqS-mRTMjIXYWu_wWzwWYgnUtw_WeqIDiAsLdxLfwd_EKrEPc4Die3SGeooKecuhjv693AqzXJJgoOOE-KhM-AenW_kEvVc2RTehDs4IaoBh9-h6el7cwn1s1m4nBD5AiVl9-QS4b59VKoE7cbSMQjUwKhb9l39q68xAG=w200-h200" width="200" /></a></div><span> In the title I haven’t specified to whom I am apologizing. It’s manifestly obvious that it’s first of all to you, a reader of this blog at the time when I was actively contributing. I’m also apologizing to anyone who has been here before and returned to find no entries for months at at time. Finally, I apologize to myself for the letdown. I meant to be constant in the record of these retirement years. I became sidetracked by other things.<br /></span></div><div><span><span> I didn’t know I would develop so many other interests. I love writing, and that’s how I filled long periods of time. I also paint like mad, particularly within the past three years. These have been commissioned paintings mostly. Commitments come first, so blog entries were shelved. And besides, I was ambitions and foolish enough to begin other blogs for difference purposes. It’s note easy to keep all the balls in the air, so I am not a proficient juggler.</span></span></div><div><span><span> I have mentioned elsewhere that i am living my 80th year presently, and will complete it on my birthday on September 13, 2022. I have a bucket list of want-to-do’s that I must admit now is unattainable. I have three books (minimum) that I want to self-publish before that date. What am I thinking? I have so many painting ideas I would like to try. I have a wife and a sports car and both of those are incessantly beckoning me outdoors for long day trips on back roads with stops at coffee shops and wineries & pubs along the way.</span></span></div><div><span><span><span> So the best I can offer by way of apology to you and to myself, is that I will try to remember to post occasional features of interest. Oh ya, I could have put many more things here, appropriate for this memoirs format that I wound up placing on Facebook. I have to change that. </span> </span> </span></div>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-40774504240249886432021-12-25T12:02:00.001-08:002021-12-25T12:02:22.136-08:00CHRISTMAS MORNING 2021<p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christmas Morning 2021, with snow falling outside, Christine has made Cheese biscuits and dark roast coffee and we have listened to George Handel’s ‘Messiah’ oratorio, recorded in 1987 in Roy Thompson Hall. We were there in attendance that year.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKpctw9YayC2TnzI03Nc7Ayuykk-7s4aNE5ZgHXevXgyv4Eg9eEpUMNbvKgFqBIKOcDqwDEJG5bbcpcyzDv6HeCOb8AMdKwFwesoBB0EPvudlkBr55wDXcyV6EbP2H7z9YdwfdpC_4yOdOhyPZykbs23f85TB3nzBy5niazxq6o_gwpXyKx2l8eCbJ=s500" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKpctw9YayC2TnzI03Nc7Ayuykk-7s4aNE5ZgHXevXgyv4Eg9eEpUMNbvKgFqBIKOcDqwDEJG5bbcpcyzDv6HeCOb8AMdKwFwesoBB0EPvudlkBr55wDXcyV6EbP2H7z9YdwfdpC_4yOdOhyPZykbs23f85TB3nzBy5niazxq6o_gwpXyKx2l8eCbJ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-27432503346176340022021-09-26T21:14:00.001-07:002021-09-26T21:14:45.444-07:00EARLY START<p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhASJpf1tXp3FwlIGLFLWxyg60lZItc6ycRVaZO2D2dazX7lgoM9DfYeBayqNW3TdCnZq1V71dBFy20UCEGqqD9veUayUL92OgZKzHEYqKXUuBlLVKYF0iY0ZEsyM6eNlfEaT-khZSEEL8/s2048/IMG_9121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhASJpf1tXp3FwlIGLFLWxyg60lZItc6ycRVaZO2D2dazX7lgoM9DfYeBayqNW3TdCnZq1V71dBFy20UCEGqqD9veUayUL92OgZKzHEYqKXUuBlLVKYF0iY0ZEsyM6eNlfEaT-khZSEEL8/w253-h190/IMG_9121.JPG" width="253" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FIT4LESS </td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Awake @3:30am with pain due to PMR; went to gym @ 5:00 to loosen a bit. Not too helpful but was amazed that upon arrival I was the only occupant and no staff and no one came in during the hour.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQVwEZUd-5IIO2cw7t0mdhq8eXwMLEQE2AlvuZnJjCU5-vLBG-1NT0usJnZO4YHd5OwjqL0U0hGsUZMVGutLdOOdXPjbjurPhymjogZ9HVTxrKMdxC_5ImTE5aNEz4D_jsRZMn0EXu9D0/s2048/IMG_9120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQVwEZUd-5IIO2cw7t0mdhq8eXwMLEQE2AlvuZnJjCU5-vLBG-1NT0usJnZO4YHd5OwjqL0U0hGsUZMVGutLdOOdXPjbjurPhymjogZ9HVTxrKMdxC_5ImTE5aNEz4D_jsRZMn0EXu9D0/w200-h150/IMG_9120.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br /><br /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0Langley, BC, Canada49.1041779 -122.660351920.793944063821158 -157.8166019 77.414411736178849 -87.5041019tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-82273069848010772222021-09-26T21:08:00.000-07:002021-09-26T21:08:15.688-07:00TENSIONS ON THE RISE<div class="kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In this current pandemic with its polemic</span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We don’t all agree</span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You’ll see</span></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Some are delirious because it’s so serious</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Life is no picnic</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">So sick</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Imagine the majority for whom disease is distant</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Fortunate their strong bodies seem to be disease resistant</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">We hope that’s true</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Health officials try to keep us safe</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Laying down restrictions for the senior to the waif</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">It is nothing new</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Covid’s not going away</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">It’s clever</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Variants are here to stay</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Forever</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">The population is divided not knowing whom to trust</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Conspiracists and skeptics fill others with disgust</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">The problems grow</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Demonstrations show</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">The disease is airborne and vaccines are barely born</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">We’re all supposed to be shot but many people are not</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Tensions on the rise</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">No surprise</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Debates run strong, about personal rights and choice</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">For what goes into our bodies do we not have a voice</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Or must government decide?</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">An immense divide.</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">So we legislate vaccination passports, put wardens at the gate, </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Creating a two-tiered society while generating hate</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Proprietors with broad shoulders stopping none passport holders</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">The human cost is great</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">We’ll come out of this and we’ll be well again sometime</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Look back at several years of sickness that we had one time</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Loved ones lost, relationships damaged, opportunities vanished</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Some candid medical professionals banished</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">And so much more</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">For sure.</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">© Ron Unruh, September 20, 2021</div></div>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-86718933098360161382021-09-26T21:06:00.001-07:002022-11-04T05:08:44.539-07:00THE WAY I’M COUNTING 80<div dir="auto" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKyIaLnsVKVr_ush_fM6D-cstsafrCJrCVTJcjsdeCb7OsKtOoFQt4GKSQstQ3Eve-Ij9KQB3DxDOfkjo1NtPHh_zTJAAy8e1u6c2sWv_IEHMwSjLoIt1PY2lHHukxAbVEPJH0YAhd5A/s781/+Ron+in+Dordogne+2009+-+Version+3.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="781" data-original-width="519" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKyIaLnsVKVr_ush_fM6D-cstsafrCJrCVTJcjsdeCb7OsKtOoFQt4GKSQstQ3Eve-Ij9KQB3DxDOfkjo1NtPHh_zTJAAy8e1u6c2sWv_IEHMwSjLoIt1PY2lHHukxAbVEPJH0YAhd5A/s320/+Ron+in+Dordogne+2009+-+Version+3.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>I celebrated my 79th birthday Sept 13th. I am living to get the most out of my 80th year. The PGA inspired me with the slogan, ‘Your best golf is ahead of you.’ On the last day of our Men’s’ League I shot my best score of the year. I’m taking that further.</div><div dir="auto" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ll manage my health, fit my clothes better, buy shorter belts, spring spontaneous pleasurable dinners on Christine, taste new international flavours. Christine will know she is the classiest and most attractive woman that I know. In a winsome manner I’ll pass on wisdom to my five youthful grandchildren. I’ll give all I can to others: time, surprises, kindness, gifts, help, coziness, encouragement and joy. I purpose to look enthusiastically with the sight that remains and to listen eagerly as long as I can. </div><div dir="auto" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ll deepen my faith, sweep sadness from my room. My bucket list will shorten, i.e. become an approved member of the Federation of Canadian Artists. Assemble and publish a book of poetry. Complete a family history book. Paint 25 oil paintings and sell half of them. Watercolour, print, package and market a series of golf course post cards and sell them quickly. Synonyms of More and Best are my operative words. Maybe my life can yet be my best work of art.</div>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-6808557210002648742021-09-26T21:01:00.001-07:002021-09-26T21:01:52.795-07:00I THINK OF MY DAD<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgznsaqcgPeRWQGfeJCuTAEkioPzux3MXbz4lc5lxC7F73G5m08bDt0KO1xapRD1r_tXqAOS_e640PTqPoQI0-FqfUlez4PTFY9vBPR16E49j_kZuwPI93lzvhw-2L_aSu2pXRYIf-iKko/s2048/IMG_9163.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="2048" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgznsaqcgPeRWQGfeJCuTAEkioPzux3MXbz4lc5lxC7F73G5m08bDt0KO1xapRD1r_tXqAOS_e640PTqPoQI0-FqfUlez4PTFY9vBPR16E49j_kZuwPI93lzvhw-2L_aSu2pXRYIf-iKko/s320/IMG_9163.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>4:30 AM. I hear an alarm. False. Just a dream. Stiff & sore. Up anyway. I’ll walk now. Shorts & sweatshirt & cap on. Lee Child novel in hand. I walk, outside. To Horton’s. Prefer other coffee. But. It’s nearby. No pedestrians anywhere, no cars. It’s quiet. I walk softly. Nike, soft soles. I think of my Dad. Loved Horton’s. Walked daily. Loved walking. Could hear him walk. Hard leather shoes. Didn’t own sneakers. Surprise! Horton’s is not open yet. Dad - Gone so long. Not earthbound since 2008. What a man! Died @ age 93. Observant, rational, unselfish, always. What a man! Gr.11 grad. 45 yrs on a furnace assembly line. Raised three sons for something better. Never raised his voice. Mom predeceased him in death by 6 months. He lost her years earlier to dementia. Wouldn’t let her go. Until he had to. Loved her always. 66 yrs. Legacy.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-79722655072481481642021-08-10T11:56:00.001-07:002021-08-10T11:59:15.715-07:00OLD MEN WILL DREAM DREAMS (a poem)<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">OLD MEN WILL DREAM DREAMS<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Words well intended without being asked,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Sycophant clichés and comfortless themes,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Podcasts and Ted talks and endless live streams,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">A foreboding world so cunningly masked,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Foretold by prophets in a distant past. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">I’m an old man and I dream old men’s dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Weary of evil and damaging schemes,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">I dream superior dreams that can last.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Of what do such admirable dreams consist?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Surely not just naiveté and pretense<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">But intuitive awareness and a sixth sense,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">That prayer births the dreams and their contents exist.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Precisely that a new generation<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Will rise humble yet boldly courageous,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> ‘Til virtue becomes virally contagious,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">And then promise and hope become our conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Such new initiatives I see in my dreams,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">A season fresh with visionary youth<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Who shun cynicism to embrace the truth,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Revealing the best of the two extremes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">© Ron Unruh, August 2021<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx5VNlyZy-tc1FT6N9C30kX70xfguHa7DGrdfC2Muh-n05mIDMKhMNV21LvIFBRHmlEc9wlkm3VswqKahU9OvcXzbil6d11uevkTB-Pe4MFfbLxFWRhlkgAhBFtvoKA-3LHIRk2afg_kU/s400/50123728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx5VNlyZy-tc1FT6N9C30kX70xfguHa7DGrdfC2Muh-n05mIDMKhMNV21LvIFBRHmlEc9wlkm3VswqKahU9OvcXzbil6d11uevkTB-Pe4MFfbLxFWRhlkgAhBFtvoKA-3LHIRk2afg_kU/s320/50123728.jpg" width="224" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span><p></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-82523195857603488202021-02-24T13:36:00.003-08:002021-02-24T13:40:51.281-08:00DAYS OLD, SHE SLEEPS<p class="MsoTitle" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16pt; font-weight: bold; margin: 6pt 0cm 12pt; text-align: center;"></p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-style: italic;">JWW Turner believed that poetry and painting flowered from the same fountain. I think he was correct, at least in my case. Here is the painting I completed to commemorate the birth of my granddaughter almost fourteen years ago to my much loved daughter in law Gina. The poem describes what I saw as I painted it. Composed </span><span style="font-style: italic;">December 2008 © Copyright by Ron Unruh</span></span><div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><i><br /></i></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuFFSpFs4aXMntVcxB1sb9dWjGo3YQMmRAcqX6F13C6xJCLIbJDCJESuKJKSLK4s0wxPXCiTtaIcH_2frNLoi0ZE1qHLnHvX8RLE6Akwew2OLsLqTwtVmm4sv1JL2JdzLm7LsGClNvPE/s2048/GINA+%2526+KADENCE+.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1542" data-original-width="2048" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuFFSpFs4aXMntVcxB1sb9dWjGo3YQMmRAcqX6F13C6xJCLIbJDCJESuKJKSLK4s0wxPXCiTtaIcH_2frNLoi0ZE1qHLnHvX8RLE6Akwew2OLsLqTwtVmm4sv1JL2JdzLm7LsGClNvPE/w200-h151/GINA+%2526+KADENCE+.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Long awaited she came, first a wife for a son</span><div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Then a daughter for them both
</span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">A sister for their boy.
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">She let me enter that chamber
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">Where birth happens and is seen,
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">Not usually by fathers in law
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">But on this occasion I was there.
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">I saw Kadence come into the world
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">A new sight for older eyes
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">Another life to love and nurture.
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">And now on one of those following days
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">The two girls sleep
Gina and her child.
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">'Kadence' meaning “with rhythm”
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">Is rarely given
So Kadence with a K she is
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">A strident girl, a girl with a voice
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">A girl who will be heard
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">A girl who will sing and laugh
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">And make parents proud
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">And give grandparents joy.
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: trebuchet;">They sleep now, one only days old
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">But soon we will wonder where the years went.</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt -288pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p></div></div>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-54339494149600789902021-02-21T07:01:00.001-08:002021-02-21T07:01:21.763-08:00DEATH IS NO STRANGER TO ME<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 11.35pt;"><span lang="EN-US">DEATH IS NO STRANGER TO ME<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 11.35pt;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 11.35pt;"><span lang="EN-US">This is not a gloomy mindfulness. End of life is on my mind more frequently than it ever was in previous decades. The proximity of death is easily apparent to me, particularly because of my age. I am 78 years old. Furthermore, the passing of close friends and acquaintances who are my contemporaries occurs with increased frequency. Two days ago another friend’s life on planet earth ended. She was four years older than me. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 11.35pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho_q8fsqpDZqFxwY3s6oVe5athllIDMIbiJqPx9AXmFcMBg7qRWkvJzP8zTFDxj-UqxhrqB7KZ47YW_IIxAI6_F-oKKOP0NtHMtwUQggWtJ9IQHUfpy_q39_5YaUt4fWj7E-Pb7n2lg0w/s245/0d75cd43ad62f7bea52b4b6d451af0ad--gif-candles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="245" data-original-width="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho_q8fsqpDZqFxwY3s6oVe5athllIDMIbiJqPx9AXmFcMBg7qRWkvJzP8zTFDxj-UqxhrqB7KZ47YW_IIxAI6_F-oKKOP0NtHMtwUQggWtJ9IQHUfpy_q39_5YaUt4fWj7E-Pb7n2lg0w/s0/0d75cd43ad62f7bea52b4b6d451af0ad--gif-candles.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 11.35pt;"><span lang="EN-US">I am no stranger to dying and death. At the age of 27 I began my work as a church pastor. For forty years one of my responsibilities was spending time with dying parishioners and residents of the community. I sat with families as their loved one weakened and I comforted them when the loved one died. Many who died were close personal friends. I had my own load of grief to manage. I officiated funerals within the churches that I pastored. I lost count of how many hundreds of funerals that is. Death is not a stranger to me.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 11.35pt;"><span lang="EN-US">My grandparents and parents and most uncles and aunts and some cousins have died. We have been people of faith, not just any faith, but Christian faith. Early in my life and then through concentrated linguistic and theological investigation I confirmed for my own satisfaction that my faith rests on promise based on evidence. So I am content to trust that God was telling me the truth when he inspired writers to record that eternal life awaits those who trust that Jesus was divine and resided on earth for the purpose of atoning for human sin. I believe that Jesus’ own dying words to a dying convict promising him life in paradise was true, and is true still. What this comes down to is assurance and hope and peace. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 11.35pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Yes, I have bought the whole meal deal. It’s a worldview that includes a future beyond life here. Not for one moment do I believe that it is easier or more intelligent to accept that life began spontaneously in some cell somewhere or through some cataclysmic celestial explosion. I rest my trust in a transcendent pre-existing God who created this remarkable universe and chose to fashion humanity in his image, and who has prepared something for us after this. I am unafraid and I am content. <o:p></o:p></span></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-33010157652835181312021-02-07T14:25:00.001-08:002021-02-07T14:25:51.578-08:00FIDELITY AND TRUST NO MORE<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">FIDELITY AND TRUST NO MORE<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Fidelity and trust could soon be obsolete. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Fidelity is noncompulsory. Trust is hard to find. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">“I promise to be faithful.” “I don’t believe you.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Two assertions juxtaposed<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">But now they correspond.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Fidelity, once founded on a pledge<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Implied continuing faithfulness to that contract,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Is now a casualty of our times.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Aberrant public mores won. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Trust wore thin and then dissolved. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">The adhesive of relationships, gone.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">We trust clergy, doctors, leaders and spouses;<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">We trust parents, and teachers until we don’t.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">We don’t when we have lost faith<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">In the trustworthiness of a promise given,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">And the promise neglected.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Our trust is lost and irrecoverable it seems. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">We believed fidelity made a promise <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">That was a virtual guarantee.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Our times are known for distrust<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">And infidelity.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">In our spirits we wish to regain them both,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">The constancy of truthfulness<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">And the allegiance of trust?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Yet no one can be made to trust.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">It is a choice to be made when the two feel safe.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Conceivable with open communication,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Indispensable regret and earnest apology,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Met with heartfelt forgiveness.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Only then does trust recover,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">Indispensable to robust rapport<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">So affinity is what ex-antagonists discover.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri;">© Ron Unruh, January 2021</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqaIBbfrpcaTZcMDjtbKdoHUgfLchpShsRxNQy5BznwWi_44jHQVObF7D01UyGdjgjkAIaErZGSGJesixww7_PogwvcrMyekJq0nYVwA2z5AO9zsr0CyJ9ZawXNuKL7nj_jVxLUPgzi8/s306/To-couplesYoure-not-gonna-promise-to-each-other-that-you-will-not-disappoint-one-another-because-at-some-point-you-will.-What...+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqaIBbfrpcaTZcMDjtbKdoHUgfLchpShsRxNQy5BznwWi_44jHQVObF7D01UyGdjgjkAIaErZGSGJesixww7_PogwvcrMyekJq0nYVwA2z5AO9zsr0CyJ9ZawXNuKL7nj_jVxLUPgzi8/s0/To-couplesYoure-not-gonna-promise-to-each-other-that-you-will-not-disappoint-one-another-because-at-some-point-you-will.-What...+2.jpg" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-36457660196122713582020-08-16T10:45:00.001-07:002020-08-16T10:45:25.408-07:00JOHN MURRAY’S NEW BOOK, ‘DISCOVER YOUR HIDDEN SELF.'<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJXDk6Qxd5lupqRl5bYwcHkQCpq8do3FbX-ivyGbp7F-hq4pYnrdOJI5GwlacxiJS0-Q-Mz2TCiNm5icrhClQrYyvmUFROuv1Kqi9xT7VKehJJkc-U4Y7OsS_6-awOKmSUPCrXD814TI/s783/Discover-Your-Hidden-Self.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="783" data-original-width="493" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJXDk6Qxd5lupqRl5bYwcHkQCpq8do3FbX-ivyGbp7F-hq4pYnrdOJI5GwlacxiJS0-Q-Mz2TCiNm5icrhClQrYyvmUFROuv1Kqi9xT7VKehJJkc-U4Y7OsS_6-awOKmSUPCrXD814TI/w206-h328/Discover-Your-Hidden-Self.jpg" width="206" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US">John</span><span lang="EN-US"> Murray is a personal friend and also an author. His new book <a href="https://jmurray.ca/product/discover-your-hidden-self/" style="color: purple;">'Discover Your Inner Self,'</a> may be exactly what you need right now. The subtitle is ‘Opening the door to who you really</span>are.’ Here are 125 pages that can lift your spirit and increase your contentment by giving you a fresh perspective about yourself as it helps you identify your own significance and uniqueness. The paperback version is available from John’s <a href="https://jmurray.ca/" style="color: purple;">website</a> now and will soon be available (August 24, 2020) from Amazon in both Kindle and paperback versions. My own endorsement is contained within and I recommend this book to you. John will personalize and sign your copy from his website.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-58342289688675512602020-04-14T06:00:00.000-07:002020-04-14T06:55:29.828-07:00Sunny Days Apr. 6-13, Covid-19, Social Distancing, Drives in the Convertible Keeping Distances<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3wT8pmmy1i30HhbM478LlPgMkQVYnfv6FLQh5PRNVSmrs3ruCO_ZjVQKv4T-3yStYvF7NkLFfugo9RuJRD8t8vu8MK8eZ41TJ8jHjrx52n9oD-lSVg3h-ZGXCFhcabIIo3f2xLV4KQrg/s1600/IMG_6245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3wT8pmmy1i30HhbM478LlPgMkQVYnfv6FLQh5PRNVSmrs3ruCO_ZjVQKv4T-3yStYvF7NkLFfugo9RuJRD8t8vu8MK8eZ41TJ8jHjrx52n9oD-lSVg3h-ZGXCFhcabIIo3f2xLV4KQrg/s200/IMG_6245.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Can’t let a sunny day go by without a ride ... For Langley, a ghost town, but the Fifties Diner served milk shakes out the door, then down the river road as far as possible and south to 0 Ave., and west to 184 and north to home where I began to paint a landscape.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A</span>pril 7, 2020</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sunny again. We’ll take it. Morning walk, Washed windows; a drive in the sun, </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Brodeurs-Bistro/172732623426503?__tn__=K-R&eid=ARCUgl6bb19R1vmHmIatj1LPW1eDR6nA71t5DTbemk5y0Xy05RgysJzhZKKJFfjiVcjcscqJecHcdPT8&fref=mentions&__xts__%5B0%5D=68.ARD1Ylp_J7IG1Jm_YTWx8ZWJtzYX_pZ-x8NxSaeRBwO7VhDEn50TuP3eXFF4PU24Iwm4qqYr9QABIlk65ZxwcHfddTmhfFd5mqmj_idGcIUfoNMqWyfhWVCmuFRnt7zMtjOHG_E6wnuSwAyRpCnpumjTaaZkXJAv2fuRSACUF_98RFG7aStiEPsgt7siC8lYO9EhIM5gTXDdPifZ1Q"><span style="color: #385898;">Brodeur's Bistro</span></a> (takeout only) Montreal Smoke Meat Sandwich (embarrassingly huge & good); tailgate party of 2. (wasn’t close to anyone .. that’s for my children)<br />
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April 8, 2020<br />
Sun. 15C. Milkshake Country. Planet Java 50’s Diner. Can’t go inside. Shout in an order. It’s brot out. Thru farm country, top down on the Miata. What a win! & we were distanced from everyone.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisSzsBrEzduwX9nf1xs4Lk0WkzeF3gHz7HyGu-1EIbZ1FQNIChqSVkavcVdTN2LJgE_N8XscUGdGBrLFseV3uvV39ScPpcVYO8kD-0oblwglphnlQ-RZdjShwHrLUoEpO0dgb13mBxaXk/s1600/IMG_6259-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1130" data-original-width="1600" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisSzsBrEzduwX9nf1xs4Lk0WkzeF3gHz7HyGu-1EIbZ1FQNIChqSVkavcVdTN2LJgE_N8XscUGdGBrLFseV3uvV39ScPpcVYO8kD-0oblwglphnlQ-RZdjShwHrLUoEpO0dgb13mBxaXk/s200/IMG_6259-2.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4bzuNLipJNyFhIeBWCkcegvcROO172_Zfd0OKbDjKDIeCt0VAcq7vyphoEipf-PxqdDffDV1GKH-_ClT7JsHKIhMFF5dWj4vGejaR33_0H2tVhdJP8Q5Qh_kitUHgiJ0aPWfHH3ABA1k/s1600/IMG_6260-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1471" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4bzuNLipJNyFhIeBWCkcegvcROO172_Zfd0OKbDjKDIeCt0VAcq7vyphoEipf-PxqdDffDV1GKH-_ClT7JsHKIhMFF5dWj4vGejaR33_0H2tVhdJP8Q5Qh_kitUHgiJ0aPWfHH3ABA1k/s200/IMG_6260-2.jpg" width="183" /></span></a><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">April 9, 2020 Today, warmest of the week, Miata open, ohhh so nice, to a friendly farm, wiener roast in isolation. I even distanced from my car. Eugene & Elaine invited us. We shouted to one another from adjoining fields. Fuel on Fri. in Aldergrove was .80/litre. Last year it was $1.60. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span 10pt="" font-size:="" style="color: black; o: p></o:p></span></span> April 13, 2020 Easter Sunday</span></span><span style=;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span 10pt="" font-size:="" style="color: black; o: p></o:p></span></span> April 13, 2020 Easter Sunday</span></span><span style=;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span 10pt="" font-size:="" style="color: black; o: p></o:p></span></span> April 13, 2020 Easter Sunday</span></span><span style=;">April 13, 2020 Easter Sunday</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sunday. Easter. Streaming Church Service. Easter Bread & sprinkles delivery to our Kids. Miata top down & what can I say, Open Road, few cars out, Mountain views spectacular, Vanilla shakes from Planet Java 50’s Cafe (takeout, nothing but distance), stopped @ Chaberton, home for dinner - Christine’s Rouladen, (beef roulades filled with bacon, onions, mustard and pickles, then browned and simmered in the richest gravy imaginable). But sad without family.</span>
Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-696412436295712154.post-13047040906095613812020-04-14T05:46:00.000-07:002020-04-14T05:46:47.945-07:00PALM SUNDAY 2020 AMID COVID-19<span style="font-family: inherit;">It has been as uncommon a Palm Sunday as I can recall. Born during WWII, my memory doesn’t hold a recollection of what must surely have been an atypical Palm Sunday or two. Palm Sundays that I remember as a child embraced colour. Flowers embellished the front of the church. It was a celebrative ambiance. Women wore stylish hats and pastel shaded attire to church. Those were days when men and boys wore suits, shirts and ties to church, and it was standard and it felt respectable. In the afternoon our family would drive to Niagara Falls where we would walk through the Floral Showhouse to enjoy orchids and tropical flowers. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Christine remembers Palm Sunday of her childhood in Britain with a song. Who would have guessed? I’m facetious. Her life and career has been music. “Hosanna, loud hosanna, the little children sang, through pillared court and temple the lovely anthem rang. To Jesus, who had blessed them close folded to his breast, the children sang their praises, the simplest and the best.” She remembers waiving palm fronds or other branches. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Perhaps again today our modest, isolated at home worship will be the simplest and the best adoration we can possibly offer to our Saviour. We know the outward adornment doesn’t count for much when God is looking at our hearts. Today, may the whole multitude of Christ’s disciples worldwide rejoice and praise God with loud voices for all of his mighty works and may we say, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the LORD! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!</span>Ronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07353695791008715393noreply@blogger.com0