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Now Know We Not the Meaning of Life's Sorrow

Now know we not the meaning of life's sorrow,
Now know we not the pattern God has planned.
But comes the dawn of His all glorious morrow,
Then shall we know; then shall we understand. 

Now know we but in part our life's long story,
Now see we through a darkened glass and dim: 
Then shall we see our God in all His glory,
Then shall we know as we are known of Him.
 

Now know we but the sorrow and the sadness,
Now know we but the loneliness and loss:
Then shall we know the glory and the gladness,
The crown shall rise in triumph o'er the cross.

Then shall we know the love that passes measure,
Then shall we read the mysteries of grace;
Then shall we know eternal truth and treasure;
Then shall we see our Savior, face to face!

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-   Tribute to a Special Son   -

Bernie was a very bright light in our lives,

A light that cannot be replaced.

But someone said that, if we are sad, so will he be, 

So I try to conquer the sorrow.

He always spoke well of his Mother and first Father,

And to my knowledge, since 1991, did no one any harm.

If he was ever missing in Montreal, I could find him

Sitting by his Dad's grave on Mount Royal.

I still laugh at his infectious humour,

Like when I sang in the house, he might say with a smile,

'Si tu chante pour moi, tu peut arreter!'

('If you're singing for me, you can stop!')

He will not age, he will be forever our young Bozo the Clown.

He made me listen many times to his song that said,

'C'est en septembre que je m'endors sous l'olivier'.

(It's in September that I shall sleep beneath the olive tree.)

But back then, pity, I only knew the English lyrics. 

I never got him to a warm beach

Or home to les Isles de la Madeleine,

But he was so happy with his dogs, his home and his garden.

I take Lady and Lucky to visit his old campsite in the forest,

Where we hope one day to see him, bent over the fire.

I shall shout 'Berns!', and the dogs will break into a run, 

And there will be big, loving hugs and smiles. 

Until then we know that God has work for him,

Laying stone paths, building low garden walls,

Or chopping wood in His heavenly garden.

He will be so fulfilled and content.

God love you for all time, Berns, as we do,

Lady Maggie, Lucky 7 and Papa Dave.

R.I.P.

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            God's Garden

 - Mary E. Deforge.

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Words of St. Paul.

If I speak in the tongues^[a] of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. ² If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. ³ If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast,^[b] but do not have love, I gain nothing.

⁴ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

⁸ Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. ⁹ For we know in part and we prophesy in part,¹⁰ but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. ¹¹ When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. ¹² For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

¹³ And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

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Giving When it Counts... 

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a 
hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who 
was suffering from a rare & serious disease. Her only 
chance of recovery appeared to be a blood 
transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had 
miraculously survived the same disease and had 
developed the antibodies needed to combat the 
illness.. The doctor explained the situation to her 
little brother, and asked the little boy if he would 
be willing to give his blood to his sister. 

I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a 
deep breath and saying, 'Yes I'll do it if it will 
save her.' As the transfusion progressed, he lay in 
bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, 
seeing the color returning to her cheek. Then his 
face grew pale and his smile faded. 

He looked up at the doctor and asked with a 
trembling voice, 'Will I start to die right away'. 

Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the 
doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his 
sister all of his blood in order to save her

but he had chosen to save her anyway.

Bernie would have done it.

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Peace.

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From Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem In Memoriam:27, 1850:

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

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Windshield Message from a child.

One rainy afternoon I was driving along one of the main streets of town, taking those extra precautions necessary when the roads are wet and slick.

Suddenly, my daughter, Aspen, spoke up from her relaxed position in her seat. "Dad, I'm thinking of something."

This announcement usually meant she had been pondering some fact for a while, and was now ready to expound all that her six-year-old mind had discovered.

 I was eager to hear. "What are you thinking?" I asked."The rain;" she began, "is like sin, and the windshield wipers are like God wiping our sins away."

After the chill bumps raced up my arms I was able to respond."That's really good, Aspen."Then my curiosity broke in. How far would this little girl take this revelation?So I asked... "Do you notice how the rain keeps on coming? What does that tell you?"

Aspen didn't hesitate one moment with her answer: "We keep on sinning, and God just keeps on forgiving us."

I always remember this whenever I turn my wipers on.

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