Yoga: More than Meets the Eyes??

Originally posted on Edhird's Blog:


Ed Hird by tree

By the Rev. Dr. Ed Hird

You may find this a stretching article in body, mind and spirit.  I have intentionally avoided writing this article for years, because I knew that it might be unavoidably controversial.  To be honest, I have been waiting for someone else to write this article instead of me.  Like most pastors, I want people to like me.   With genuine reluctance, I eventually faced my conflict avoidance, obeyed the Lord and read hundreds of yoga books in our local public libraries.  In preparing this article, I have not read one book which warns against yoga.  All book citations in this article are from yoga advocates and practitioners.

               To many people, yoga is just the hottest new exercise fad for younger women.  Twenty million North Americans are now doing yoga, including around four million men.  These twenty…

View original 5,678 more words

The Cone of Shame–Not Just for Pets Anymore

Originally posted on Kristen Lamb's Blog:

Pippa Dog is plotting our deaths...

Pippa Dog is plotting our deaths…

The past week and a half has been…interesting. I was completely off last week, so messed up that I woke up Saturday morning, believing it was Friday. The super funny lady Leanne Shirtliffe, who was supposed to be my FRIDAY guest post, was probably all WTH? when I wrote about wanting a DeLorean so I could go back in time and kick my own @$$ for being stupid instead of posting her seriously funny guest piece and talking about her on-line humor-writing class (still open, btw).

Hmmm, a bit prophetic. And, Leanne’s post? Humor is Everywhere? Doubly prophetic?

So Friday Saturday, I stagger out of bed, exhausted (we’d been passing around a toddler stomach bug for the previous week) and I drink three cups of coffee just to be able to SEE straight.

Being the AWESOME, sweet, loving, and humble wife I am…

View original 988 more words


Since a few of my readers liked to ‘peek’ when they were children (and maybe they still do), I thought I would post a short peek once again into my childhood.

Another Wee PeakI follow a page on FaceBook and the question was asked about what we remember most about Kindergarten.

My answer was “playing in the rhythm band”. Terry replied that she would have liked to see my play. Well, as that is entirely out of the question, I thought I could at least post a picture of that little band of five-year-old boys and girls with our sticks, tambourines and triangles and drum.

Another Wee Peak

The quality isn’t so good, but I had to take a picture from a photo and that doesn’t always come out well. I’m sorry I can’t provide you with sound to go along with it. Perhaps, if you have a vivid imagination, you might just catch a little tune. I’m afraid I don’t even remember what music we played to.

I hope you have enjoyed this little reminiscence. Please leave a comment below, and if you do not already follow my blog, feel free to sign up to have notifications come via e-mail.

Enhanced by Zemanta


Please don’t be sad. I know it’s been a long time since I posted anything here.

I apologizeI hope you haven’t given up on me.

But I do hope you have missed me–just a little.

Don’t worry, I’m won’t give you a long list of excuses, but I have been busy with some editing, mostly on my own book but also a little for other authors as well.

Hopefully I will be back on track soon, but while you wait for something new here, please check my main blog. I have recently posted a three-part series about the parable of the sower and the seed (Luke 8:4-15).

You will find Part 1 here. Then I hope you will read Part 2 and Part 3.

I do hope you will enjoy reading them and that you will leave a comment either here or below each post. Or, if you have the time, leave a comment in both places. There are lots of other posts you can browse through as well. I hope you enjoy your visit.

Thank you so much for stopping by. If you are not already following me, please take a moment to do so. For those of you who have subscribed to this blog, I want to say a special “Thank you” and tell you how much I appreciate you. And to everyone, have a wonderful day.


Yes, I nearly didn’t exist.

Three separate incidents from the past could have made my birth an impossibility.

One incident involved something that happened to a grandmother . One involved a decision made by a grandfather. The other involved the timing of a voyage. Had any one of these situations turned out differently, it would have meant I would not be here to tell about them.

I nearly didn't exist

Grandma and Grandad Stephenson

I don’t know the story around this particular incident, but I remember being told years ago that my grandmother, when she was young, was thought to have died. She was in her coffin when suddenly she opened her eyes. That was before the days of embalming in England. It’s scary to think of someone being buried alive. How horrible had she gained consciousness after being interred. I wouldn’t even want to imagine what it would be like. But fortunately the coffin lid was still open. Although it must have been a little disconcerting to the family and others standing around the coffin, I’m certainly grateful to the Lord that He had other plans for her that involved me all these years later. Otherwise I wouldn’t even exist today.

I nearly didn't exist

The Usher Family

Next, a decision made by my grandfather to emigrate. Initially he had chosen to take his wife and daughter  to Australia. Now that would certainly have meant I would not have existed had he followed through with that plan since my mother met my father here in Canada. But at the last minute my grandfather spoke with a friend who was coming to Canada and decided to accompany him. Again, I’m so thankful that his plans were changed. He came to Canada, to Brantford Ontario, and prepared to bring my grandmother and their baby daughter (my mother’s sister) here.

Then my father’s family decided to come to Canada in 1912. My father was between 7 and 8 years old. They were booked on a ship which sailed either just before or just after the Titanic. And we all know what happened to that ship. Had they been booked on it I would not have existed. So close. But the Lord obviously had a reason for me to be born, to exist. He has a plan and I’m grateful that He spared my family. They came to Hamilton Ontario but later moved to Brantford.

The postcard below is one my grandfather Usher sent from Canada to my grandmother who was still in England. The date on the back, 1908, is visible in the top right corner. The writing, though faded, is still visible: Dear Ada this is an Indian Postcard From Your Jess.

I nearly didn't exist

Indian Postcard

I nearly didn't exist

Back of Postcard

Everything was being orchestrated for my parents to meet on a blind date at a mutual friend’s home. I suppose you could say that this was a forth incident that, had one decided not to go to that party, would have meant I would not exist today.

I nearly didn't exist

My Parents' Wedding

To the left is a photo of my parents’ wedding. This was again part of the Lord’s orchestration in the creation of my life in 1945, 13 years after they were married. And that is the history of how I came to exist. And as I look back on my own life I can see how the Lord has orchestrated it just as carefully and intricately as my ancestors’ lives. One decision here, one incident there and my life could have been drastically different than it turned out to be. We may wonder “what if” but I’m satisfied that I am what the Lord wants me to be (except for some adjustments here and there) and exactly where He wants me to be. Though there was a great possibility that I may not have existed, there was an even greater one that I was meant to exist.

And thus ends my story for today. I hope you have enjoyed it. Please leave a comment before you leave. And do drop by again.


Here we are at my 3rd ‘peeking’ experience.

I’m just wondering if this tendency for peeking has anything to do with my mother playing peek-a-boo with me when I was a baby. Hmm.

Life in Reverse: Peeking into my Early Years Part 3

That's me in the lower right corner

This time I was a little older and we had moved to another house. No more holes in the floor. No more second floor, in fact.

I would have been 9 or 10. Bedtime was 8:00, and I had been there for awhile. My bedroom was off the living room and, because of shortage of space, the regular doors had been removed from both bedrooms and replaced with folding doors.

One night there was a kids’ movie on TV. But it didn’t start until after my bedtime. Why do they do that, anyway? I did so want to see that movie. Funny thing, my father was never one to watch movies, but he did turn the dial to this one. (That was long before remote controls. You actually had to get up out of your chair and turn a dial.)

The movie was Alice in Wonderland. The year, 1955. My peeking experience was expanding. I had cracked open the folding door just far enough so I could see and, hopefully, not be seen. I got away with it for awhile, but I was finally caught peeking.  I cannot remember if I was allowed to come out and watch the rest of the movie after I was caught, but I think perhaps I was.

What I do remember is my mother later making fun of me to some of her friends–in front of me. I was so embarrassed about my peeking. I never tried that experiment again.

Click here to hear a song from the movie.

I did do a little peeking after that, and I felt so bad. I didn’t intend to see my Christmas present on the shelf in my mother’s closet. I was looking for something else. I never did tell her that I had seen it.

If you have never read Alice in Wonderland, you can read it free. For those of you familiar with the book and/or the movie (whichever version), I hope you enjoyed the Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum song in the video. If you would like to watch the 1983 Broadway retelling of the 1932 version, check it out here.

Thank you so much for stopping by. I would really appreciate it if you would leave a comment. Perhaps you could tell me about your memories of Alice in Wonderland.

Have a super day.

Enhanced by Zemanta


Now you know the story of how I started peeking.

Well, that wasn’t the only time I did a little peeking.

Life in Reverse: Peeking into my Early Years Part 2I suppose I would have been about the same age as my  experience peeking down the knothole.

Probably around 4 years old. It was New Year’s Eve. The neighbors, at least some of them, usually came to our house for a party. Not a rowdy party, mind you. Most of the neighbors were older people. My dad was by then nearing his mid-forties, my mother just past the middle thirties.

Of course, I was too young to stay up for the party. But that night I couldn’t get to sleep. I wanted to be a part of the fun. So I took to peeking again. This time the hole was much larger. This was where a stovepipe used to be to help heat the second floor of our house. I guess that was when we used the wood stove in the kitchen. By then we heated with an acme stove in the living room.  But there was that hole, just made for peeking, one that I could actually see through.

Whenever my mother came into the kitchen, just below my peeking place, I would whisper, “Mommy!” Naturally she couldn’t hear me. But I was afraid to speak any louder. I have no idea why. I just kept peeking down that hole and hoping.

Finally, well past midnight, everyone had gone home. It was then that my mother discovered my peeking. It was then, too, that I discovered that she would have let me come down, at least for awhile, had she known I was there. Too late! The party was over. Again my peeking had done me no good. The knothole was full of darkness; the stovepipe hole was full of light. But my peeking was a failure in both cases. I wonder if there’s a lesson to be learned here? :-)

Please stay tuned for my next adventure in peeking. I was a little older then, but probably not much wiser. Watch for “Life in Reverse: Peeking into my Early Years – Part 3″

I hope you have enjoyed my musings. I do appreciate your visit and I hope you will leave a comment below. Do drop by again. And if you have a few minutes, please visit my other site. Have a super week.


Well, now that you have read (at least, I hope you have) the “About Me” section, I thought I would do a series of posts to relate some of my memories from my past. They may entertain you a little, and I hope some of them will bring you a smile.

Peeking into my early life.

This is going to take some serious remembering.

So, where do I start? I grew up–until I was half-way between 7 and 8 years old–on Victoria Street in Brantford Ontario.This is where I got my start peeking into my past.

Life in Reverse: Glimpses into my Early LifePeeking. Yes, it all started when I dropped one of my mother’s earrings. One of those screw-on earrings from sixty or more years ago. I didn’t just drop it anywhere. It went straight through a small hole in the floor of the upstairs bedroom.

That room always fascinated me. There was a small closet where my mother stored a pool table that belonged to my uncle. There were other things in what was really more of a cubbyhole than a closet. I don’t remember the specifics now, except for some part rolls of old wallpaper, but I loved it when my mother opened that door.

Well, the peeking, as I already said, started in this room. After I dropped that earring down the hole, I was drawn back time and time again to look into the blackness of that hole. Of course, you cannot possible see through a little knothole into the spaces between floors, but as a small child I didn’t reason that way. I wanted to find the earring.

I suppose I felt guilty. It’s not that it was an expensive piece of jewellery, or that my mother couldn’t get along without it. Actually she was allergic to metal and seldom wore jewellery of any kind other than her engagement and wedding rings and the occasional necklace if it didn’t have a metal hook.

So I peeked. And I peeked. Eventually we moved to another house, but the earring was not forgotten. For many years I kept the other half of the pair. In later years I put it on a chain and wore it as a necklace.

I had hoped to take a picture of it, but now it seems to have vanished and I have no recollection of disposing of it. So now the mate to the lost earring is lost also. I will always wonder about its fate. Maybe that’s a fitting end for that pair of amber teardrop earrings.

I hope you enjoyed my little story. I’m so glad you dropped by. I would really appreciate it if you would leave a comment in the box below. Thank you. Please come back again to see what’s new on my newest web site and blog.