Familiar Things My Dad Left Behind

Canadian Oaks, Whitby

Sunset over CN Tower seen from a Whitby computer desk.

I am writing these words on my sister Roslyn’s computer.
It is located in the living room of the “granny flat” that she and my brother-in-law Julian
attached to the back of their kitchen in Whitby, Ontario.
Beside me is the roll-top desk at which my mother spent many hours
reviewing snail-mail correspondence,
sending off loving words and generous gifts;
some in her “buck-an-year” club,
and many others in support of various  ministries and Kingdom ventures scattered around the globe.
Here at this desk I am surrounded by familiar things

"Rhine Castle" by Karl Heffner (1849-1925)

This painting now hangs beside the window
from which I viewed last night’s sunset.
My earliest childhood memories include
daydreams dreamed through my gaze while
snuggled in a family living room – gazing into
imagined worlds within and beyond this Rhine Castle.

Familiar Things Surrounding Me Today
Mementos of times shared with loved ones

Furnishings bearing the wear marks of hours spent

with good friends, good books, and good lovin’.

Of most significance to me are the bound volumes

Volumes of pleasant words.

One such volume bears the title

“Year of Yearnings & Expectings, 1999 – 2000”

in Poetic verse ~ ~ by Ross Gardner.

On page 11 my father published these words:

Familiar Things

The comfort of familiar things
Though times will change,
For time must flow
Still, for these moments crystallized
Exert their therapeutic glow
And tender touch, whose tendrils know,
Not as transience sure surprised,
But from the other realm and range
Pervading peace His presence brings !
“Peace — not as this world
giveth give I unto you… (Jesus)
(Let not your heart be troublrd . . .
believe in Me)” 

 Ross Gardner  (1927 – 2002)
© 12/16/98

"View From My Desk"

"View From My Desk" by Ross Gardner (1927 - 2002)

Now, as I ponder “familiar thing” memories of Dad

The deposits of Person he left behind

The imprint of his Creator reflected

Imperfectly, through darkling smokey glass

A broken palette’s coloured rays
layered down

Upon a cropped canvas foreshortened…

Yet daily,  graciously growing  in gradations glorious.

I am thankful I share his heritage and lineage

And honoured that I can humbly recognize

A fatherly man of whom I can say:

“His delight was in the law of the Lord;
And in His law he did meditate both day and night.
And he was like a tree planted by the rivers of water
That brought forth his fruit in his season;
His leaf also shall not wither
And whatsoever he did
Shall prosper.”
 

Our weigh in way out boxing ring

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