Marsha's Blog

  I happened across an old familiar parable the other day. It’s the one about seeds and the different kinds of soil it falls into when it’s sown. It shows up in three of the four Gospels.  You know how it goes.  There was a farmer, and he broadcast some seeds.  Some fell on good soil, some on rocky, some on bad.  Some sprouted and grew, but with lack of water and nourishment they were soon taken out.   After this morning, I would like to add my own “Australian version” of that parable.  ALL of my beautiful little green tomatoes, showing so much potential for harvest, were just getting ready to turn a nice rich red when something, most likely a possum, came under the cloak of darkness and wiped out my entire crop.  To say I was angry is an understatement. It’s not just the tomatoes; it’s the injustice! I bought the seedlings. I prepared the pots. I watered faithfully every morning. It’s just not fair!  And the rage doesn’t stop at the gar...

 Today I'd like to tell you the tale.  It could go something like the line by Charles Dickens in the Tale of Two Cities' and start off with: "It was the best of times and it was the worst of times." Yoshioka is a small village a few miles north of Sendai, Japan, where we lived most of our career.  The thing that struck us every time we went out there was the sense of history.  It was over 700 years old, and that was back in the ‘80s.  We came to know the place because a doctor by the name of Abe Sensei, ran a clinic there. By God’s grace, he became a Christian sometime in the ‘50s, and that changed the course of the land.  Because of his concern for the town and society, and wanting to share Christ in the community, he started a preschool with a church attached.  It sailed along with great success for over 40 years.  We got involved when Tony was asked to come play his guitar for the children once or twice a week.  It became a real bright spo...

 He is Risen!! I'll keep it simple today as I'm sure you're all getting your bonnets and gloves together for church!  Those words are enough to bring up a whole pack of memories. I’ll always remember the excitement of “dressing up” for Easter Sunday. It’s a tradition that sadly seems to be losing ground in the face of the Me Generation’s “Comfort is Everything” way of thinking these days, but I’ll leave that soap box alone for now.  In my home, Easter was a day for lace and hats and shiny white shoes. Never mind that where we lived in the Rockies west of Denver, snow was a very real possibility, and spring snows (like around Easter time) could be particularly wet and sloppy. But nothing could stop us from trying our best to look our best, even when the weather outside was, well, less than best.  We persevered because Easter spoke of New Life. And what better way to celebrate than by dressing up for the occasion? Why don’t you give it a try, Young Folks? You’ll love i...