Often when we think of worship, we think of music and I have pondered on many occasions about its significance.  What power does it hold over us? 

I have studied music all my life.  With a 97% in preliminary theory, a third place in the Canadian National Vocal Competitions, certificates in bronze level ballroom dance, eight grades of piano, four years of flute and three years of guitar under my belt, I am well aware of the effects music can have on a person and it is no wonder that it plays such a prominant role in worship.

What other venue engages all parts of the human species?  Does work encapture our souls?  Does academic study steal our attention?  Can a movie or book move our emotions quite the same?  Not really.  While we can pour our efforts into our work and we can study the scriptures--something I whole-heartedly encourage--while we listen to sermons and read literature that is designed to uplift, only music permeats all parts of us at once.

Have you been busy at a task when a favourite song came on the radio and immediately your attention was stolen?  Have you had scripture jump at you in its full meaning once its profound words were put to melody?  Even the best book or movie plot line can be side-railed by the right combination of words and tune.

Worship in itself is a focusing of all parts of body, soul and spirit on our creator and all He is and has done.  It is no wonder God chose music as a major form of worship.  Even the least musical among us can appreciate the beauty of a well-composed song. 

How often do we underplay this important function in our personal and corporate worship.  Perhaps, we may think, if we give it more importance we will pump up its leaders and workers to a state beyond humility.  Or perhaps we will spend too much time turning our focus away from other modes of worship.  And yet, time and time again, God calls us to pour ourselves out before him in music; drums, flute, lyre, tambourines and stringed instruments, trumpets and cymbals.  It is no co-incidence that the churches with the greatest growth are filled with amazing music.

What does this all have to do with writing?  Imagine putting into song the words God has given a writer.  Imagine the potent combination of written inspiration with musical inspiration.  As God moves us to follow him--to worship him--let us pour all we have into whatever method he reveals in his word.  He doesn't ask for perfection.  None would meet the mark.  But he does ask us to put our all into it.  If that means learning then let us learn.  If that means participating then let us participate.  Let it never be said as we stand before our Lord that we didn't do all we could to "make a joyful noise" unto him.  Blessings.

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Today I watched my daughter ride our horse in the midst of a mild snow blizzard.  She's an adult and a competent rider.  On a sunny day, the horse would trust her.  He would enjoy the warmth and the sunshine; the fresh air and the smell of growing things.  And he would amble along with ears perked and the occasional contented sigh.  But not this day. 

Today, he hunches his back.  He stares cautiously at every shadow.  He glares a frustrated eye up at her from her perch in the saddle.  He longs for the safety of the barn.  What has changed?  Certainly the horse hasn't changed.  He is still the individual animal content to live his life as he sees fit.  Content to trust we dominant members of the herd for his food and shelter.  And she hasn't changed.  Her hand still grips the reins with a firm control.  Her leg steadily guides the same today as it always has.  What has changed?

The surroundings are different.  Suddenly things aren't as they should be.  They aren't as safe as he would like.  The wind howls.  The snow sifts around him.  The cold bites.  A slate sky calls of more snow soon and he can smell it in the air.  And he's afraid.

How like this we are with our creator.  When things go well, we are content to blare out our beliefs and our confidence in Christ.  But when the winds of societal change stir and the bitter words of antichrist are thrown into our faces, we balk.  It's safer in the barn.  The cold of hard hearts can't hurt us there.  And yet our Master hasn't changed.  He is still willing to guide us with a strong and kind hand to the destination he has chosen for us.  All he asks for is our submission to the reins.  He hasn't changed.  We haven't changed.  Only the circumstances around us shift and alter.  Will we struggle against our master's command or will we submit?  Will we trust in his ability to see what we don't understand?

As you enter into the Christmas season, may our Lord hem you in like the fence of a strong pasture.  May he bless you with abundance under the shelter of his providence.  May he teach you the truth--the eternal truth.  That he is the same today as he was two thousand years ago and an eternity to come.  Many blessings and Merry Christmas.

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While I may come and visit here from time to time, I'm finding that my writing ministry is leaving me with little time for multiple websites.  So...I'll be sending some of you invitations to my writing website and if you wish, you can join me there. 

On another note, two of my three daughters will be hometeaching:)  My third isn't married yet but intends to homeschool when the time comes.  What a great compliment to God's ministry within our home.  Blessings.

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For the past few weeks I have been part of a judging panel for a book contest which will remain unnamed for obvious reasons.  It has been an experience to say the least.  I have read excellent and not so excellent work and have had to give an honest evaluation of it all.  That isn't easy because I know how difficult it is to write.  I know it's easy to miss a few spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes.  I know that the mind is a fickle and erratic thing that is prone to jumping from idea to idea.  I know that because I write too.  I have discovered that to judge a book is not necessarily to decide if I've liked that book or not.  That is an unfair evaluation because I am not broad in my genre preferences.  So in order to be fair I had to find a way to critique based on an unbiased preference. 

With each book I read I asked myself a number of questions.  Does this reader subject themselves to a competent editor?  In otherwords, are they so in love with their work that they aren't willing to have someone criticize it?  Writers are wonderful people--for the most part--but we all have this problem with putting our hearts and minds on paper and then saying "No!  Don't touch it!  I want to keep the flaws because they are MY flaws!"  That's what makes editing so painful.  We are relying on someone to point out the flaws and it's hard not to take that personally.  I give points to the writer who has the courage to let someone "murder their darlings" as my Long Ridge Writers Group teachers called it.  That should eliminate the manuscripts that have serious grammatical and structural errors. 

Then there are the writers who don't understand genre.  It is so important to know what categories your book falls into.  If I am judging an inspirational romance and someone submits something with erotic material into it, I'm going to immediately deduct points because any inspirational work has modesty at its core.  If I am judging mystery and someone submits something with a heavy romance theme than I know they haven't read the categories listed in the contest guidelines and haven't seen that the contest has a mystery/romance category.  This is one of the quickest ways to get dropped to a lower score.

And finally, I look for flow.  Flow in plot.  Flow in words without being too wordy.  Flow in energy.  Consistency through out the book.  I want to get sucked into a book no matter what the genre and jarring stops and starts are a quick way to lose me.  When it is set in Hollywood and then suddenly jumps to Detroit without a chapter change or the extra space or * * * that let's me know one train of thought is ended and another is beginning, I get a bit frustrated and the points drop.

I have enjoyed my stint at judging.  It's been fun to read the creative new ideas out there but I have also learned alot about what to do and what not to do before submitting work to a contest.  Don't just write it and send it in.  Set it aside for a week or two and then read it again out loud.  Have an editor read it.  So what if it costs a bit of money.  Better to have one critique your work than many.  Ask for honest feedback from readers.  "Did you see mistakes?  Were there areas of the writing that left you confused?"  It may not help you this time around but it will certainly help your next book or article.

Writing isn't just an idea slapped down on paper.  It should be an expression of one's thoughts in a way that shows the writer is constantly growing, learning and improving.  It's fine to put our hearts out there but before we do, we should make certain that we offer the best we can give and if that means having a judge or editor or critiquer or publisher tell us that it needs improvement in certain areas--so be it.  It will make for better reading in the end.  And isn't that the goal?

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It has been a packed summer for me with book signings (which I keep forgetting to post here) and just summery type stuff.  One thing I've begun to observe is the break in the chain of publishing in Canada.  I am beginning to see a sense of inferiority in the Canadian writing industry and it filters all through the chain of command stopping just shy of the reader. 

We have the publishers.  For some reason we think that if we are published in Canada we really aren't legitimate writers.  And this is sometime reinforced by book stores that have been convinced that New York publishers are the end all and be all.  Then there are the distributors.  Again, it is assumed that we need a US distributor to get our books into the States.  Then we get to the book stores.  No Canadian section.  No Canadian books.  No Canadian authors featured.  Having said that, I do realize that there are some who have dived in and are rightfully proud of the Canadian content of their stores and to those store owners--thank you, thank you, thank you!  But far too many people in the publishing process still believe that Canadians can't write, edit, publish, distribute or promote.  Nonesense!

I am proud to say that I have done my books in Canada because I'm Canadian.  Funny thing is:  the American readers understand this concept completely!  They couldn't imagine using another nation's publishing company, promotion company, distribution company to get their books out there.  And what do the readers of Canada think?  As I have continued to chug my way from book signing to book signing, I have discovered that Canadians want to read what Canadians write.  I've had people buy my books just because I'm Canadian.  They didn't even care what they were about!  Now how crazy is that?  And yet, they are frustrated because they have to beg for Canadian books to be brought into stores.  Isn't it time Canadians embraced all things Canadian?  Just a thought.

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Donna Dawson

Revelation 13:16 - 17 (NIV)
"He also forced everyone, small and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on his right hand or on his forehead, so that no one could buy or sell unless he had the mark, which is the name of the beast or the number of his name."

 Often, I receive, in my email, those electronic missives that smack of government conspiracy and, for the most part, I file them under the little red X. But on rare occasion, the subject matter tweaks my interest and begs me to qualify.  Such was the case with the email entitled "Bill C-51?the loss of freedom". 
 My first course of action was to download and print the actual bill from the government website?all 37 pages?and to spend the needed time to go through it with a fine toothed comb.  Was I ever glad I did.
 I didn't need to read too far before the first bomb dropped.  On page two in the Preamble of the Food and Drug Act the bill declares, according to my understanding that the Ministry does not need to supply scientific certainty but that scientific evidence is enough.  The problem with this subtle difference is that our Ministry, again according to my interpretation, no longer has to compile all the evidence and show the majority results.  They can simply find one piece of evidence supporting their view and tout it as their proof.
 Nothing of great significance jumped out at me from pages four and five but page 6 caught and held me.  The word "drug" is being replaced by the term "therapeutic product". And the definition of "therapeutic product" in Definitions 6 is: (a) a drug (b) a device (c) cells, tissues or organs that are distributed or represented for use in  (i) the diagnosis, treatment, mitigation or prevention of a disease, disorder or abnormal physical state, or its symptoms, in human beings or animals, or (ii) restoring, correcting or modifying the body structure of human beings or animals or the functioning of parts of the bodies of human beings or animals, or (d) a combination of two or more of the things referred to in paragraphs (a) to (c);
 Did you get that?  It's a small one stuck in the middle "restoring, correcting or modifying the body structure of human beings or animals?"  Isn't that what food does?  And water?  And herbs?  And clothing?  So let's go back to the scientific proof.  If I tried really hard, I could probably find evidence that garlic is harmful because of its risk for salmonella.  So, if I was a part of the ministry and didn't want the public to benefit from the antibiotic properties of garlic, according to this bill, I could simply slap down the salmonella card and suddenly garlic is an illegal product for purchase, sale or distribution unless I have a license to do so.  Scary thought. 
 As I continued on I was a bit annoyed at the fact that Definitions 7 didn't supply an English translation to the French change.  So Anglophones suddenly are not privy to portions of this bill.  The aforesaid license is outlined on pages 6 and 7 and, in a nutshell, is issued and can be revoked only by the Ministry of Health.  The bill then goes on to give the Minister the right to decide what is classified as a prescription product and what isn't.  Garlic?  By prescription? Or even worse.  Food by prescription.
 I then moved on and found the little gold nugget that states we can't participate in any controlled activity without a license issued by the Ministry.  According to the definitions a controlled activity is stated as follows:  "(a) in relation to a therapeutic product?manufacturing, collecting, processing, preserving, labeling, packaging, importing for sale, distributing, wholesaling or testing, and (b) in relation to a designated therapeutic product?manufacturing, collecting, processing, preserving, labeling, packaging, importing, distributing or testing;"  In a nutshell, I can't grow, collect, can or give away the said garlic unless I am licensed to do so.  Those cute little jars of pickled garlic?  Why that's illegal according to this bill.  And pages 13 to 17 point out that that controlled activity of mine can be spewed to the public without my consent.  And if I make it a public business to sell garlic, my business information can also be publicized.  But it gets better yet.  An "inspector" can enter my house, confiscate my computer, use my photocopier to copy my files, take my files, then proceed to confiscate any of my "therapeutic products" for an indefinite amount of time, fine me up to $5,000,000.00 and put me in jail for two years.  
 As though that weren't enough, page 18 Analysis section 30(1) declares the Governor of the Council can decide what is therapeutic, can decide on the course of action and can do all of the above without intervention from voters or MP's.  (5) page 22 confirms it by stating; "Without limiting or restricting the authority conferred by any other provisions of this Act for carrying into effect the purposes and provisions of this Act, the governor in Council may make the regulations that the governor in council considers necessary for the purpose of implementing the General Council Decision." 
 Again the French language takes over and pages 28 to 30 and again 31 to 32 are all in French then a new definition is slipped in under Hazardous Products Act 53 on page which suddenly defines drugs as "food, therapeutic product or cosmetic within the meaning of the FDA".  The bill continues on to page 35 in French only again and then sums it up by defining tobacco products as anything containing nicotine accept food and therapeutic products. 
 It's a scary piece of paper work that Canadians are saying little about?a bill that steals our freedom through convoluted words and fancy phrasings.  What will you do?  I have every intention of hand writing a letter to scrap the bill entirely and that whichever party does so will gain my vote.

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Today is the final leg of our book signing.  We have learned much about our ministry and our attitudes toward it.  Going into this thing, somewhere in the back of my grey matter, my focus was to promote books.  But as we pack up our things, I have been refocused.  La Bonne Nouvelle book store has been the tool God has used to do the readjusting.  In this store I have seen ministry in action.  Yes, at the end of the day, Terry and his group of employees want to sell books but there is so much more involved here.

I have been to Christian book stores where the workers are callous or indifferent.  I have been to stores where honour is forgotten and I find myself in a battle to be reembursed for my books.  But here at La Bonne Nouvelle, I see hurting people enter the doors and find friendship.  We sit this morning and watch the gentle conversation between staff and those looking for Christ in their example.  As the day moves by, we are overwhelmed by the flow of human traffic.  And yet, we shouldn't be surprised because here people are treated as though they are special.  That treatment envelopes us as well.  While the books don't exactly pour out the door, I do end up having to dig into my stock--and am shocked that Terry is quick to cover the cost of it.  It is just one more example of the integrity that should be expected in a Christian establishment and is seen here constantly.

All in all, this trip has taught us that being an author isn't about selling books, it's about showing Christ.  Thank you Terry and the crew for teaching us this all important lesson.

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Last night, we had decided to sleep in. It's a bit unnerving when one realizes that sleeping in has become a push to make it past 8 a.m. before leaping out of bed.  It's also a bit disturbing to realize that it is the latest we have risen in our entire trip.

I learned a long time ago that humility is by far the safer course.  After all, pride does go before a fall according to Proverbs.  With that in mind, I hand the keys to Fay and tell her to drive on.  Halifax/Dartmouth is far too much of a handful for me.  With keys at the ready, Fay climbs into the driver's seat and I the passenger.  Being a type A personality, this isn't easy for me to do but Fay knows the city and I don't.  We cruise down some road that has at least twenty different names tacked to it and a half-dozen on and off ramps.  We sniff out the Palladium Restaurant where we scarf down a large breakfast.  Fay is kind enough to agree to a trip to Lower Sackville where my dad's twin brother lives.  We telephone ahead and agree to meet at Rock Church in the parking lot but it isn't until we get to the parking lot and sit for five minutes waiting for a car with a canadian flag clamped to the antennae that Fay remembers we were supposed to call Uncle as soon as we left.  We share a laugh when he rolls up beside us and then the merry chase is on as we follow the rabbit warren back to his cute little apartment and my sweet Auntie May. 

He has told Fay to call him Uncle Poppy.  That name traces its origins back to my children who call my father Poppy instead of Grandpa.  It only stands to reason that they should call his identical twin Uncle Poppy and the name has stuck.  So now he's Uncle Poppy to both Fay and I. 

While it has been a few years since I've seen them, we catch up on family events in a rush of boisterous conversation.  I still get those strange moments of deja vous when I watch him mirror my father's actions and expressions.  We are amazed at how our small hour speeds by and it almost hurts to say goodbye but we are meeting Pam shortly after lunch and she has an afternoon planned for us.  I know Fay struggles with the short time here too.  She has many friends and loved ones that she longs to see and I sense she is saddened that she just simply can't fit much into our short stay.  I completely understand having my own share of Aunts and Uncles and cousins. 

We arrive back at Pam's place a bit early and are happy for the down time before she gets home from work.  The trip is beginning to tell.  Both Fay and I are getting tired and yet it is amazing how well we work together--still.  We continue to laugh at ourselves--and each other--and now a simple look or word sends us off into a fit of giggles.  (Yes, I know giggling isn't normally an attribute of mine but the moments sometimes simply seize me)

I am amazed at Pam's generous nature.  Not only has she made us feel completely at home but she is booking off work early to share the afternoon.  Fay and I check out emails and kick back and relax until Pam arrives and then it's off on an afternoon of R & R.  I have caved in on my resolution to pass by Tim Horton's for today.  Pam is understanding and stops long enough for my coffee infusion and then we head for Shubie Park which runs along the Shubennacadie Canal system. We begin to tell stories of funny moments at church and in life.  I am sworn to secrecy and will keep my vow even if I am offered a house on the south beach of Hawaii and all the gummy bears a girl could ever wish for.

Dinner is a feast down at the Boon Dock Restaurant on the waterfront.  It is filled with laughter and fun and way too much amazing food.  And then we are off to touch base with our host's daughter and friends.  Our day winds down to a relaxing evening and we are grateful for a complete break from anything book related.  It is enough to recharge our batteries.  Often, in the quiet moments, I find myself missing my husband very much.  Tomorrow is another day and it will be a busy one.  The busy days go quickly bringing home that much closer.  We will search for a hotel, touch base with a few more churches perhaps and then have our book reading at Riverview Library.

So, Edmunston here we come!  No?  Oh ya.  I forgot.  Moncton.

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Today is wonderful.  leaving Fredericton (and being glad to see nosigns for Edmunston) bright and eartly, we grab our Timmy's coffee and meet a gentleman willing to take our picture.  (See Fay's site)  After a few moments of conversation we quickly discover we have much in common.  He is a believer in Christ who loves to write and is very interested in our book marks and an invitation to La Bonne Nouvelle in Moncton.

We are pleased that my internal navigational beacon has finally kicked in and we cruise on down the Trans to Moncton.  I think the battery that feeds my compass dies when we reach the outskirts but Fay is still very patient with me as I struggle to make sense of round-abouts and interchanges.

Our first stop is at the Riverview Library in Riverview.  We just want to touch base with the Librarian and leave book marks and The Word Guild literature with Lynn Cormier.  She is happy to take them for her patrons and we are looking forward to participating in her planned reading Thursday May 29 at 2:00 p.m.  Next to the library is a lovely old church.  Fay and I decide to stop in, where I greet the church secretary and leave book marks and an invitation to the reading and the book signing at Terry Branscombe's store.  She recognizes our faces off of the brochures we sent out a month ago and receives us with enthusiasm.  This is encouraging and we move from church to church on our way through the city.

Wanting to meet Terry, we are delighted to find a busy and well-stocked Christian book store.  What a joy to see his store thriving in an industry where many Christian stores are being closed.  Terry meets us within moments of stepping through the doors and introduces us to his staff.  our excitement is mounting and we are feeling overwhelmed as Moncton embraces us.

As we finish our visits and head toward the New Brunswick border, Fay and I very much know that god has blessed this province with kind and loving people.  We look forward to Thursday, Friday and Satruday when we can return and get to know our Christian brothers and sisters better.

We arrive in Halifax early and decide to visit The Bible Treasury, a lovely christian book store.  We give out our material and receive a very warm welcome here.  It's such a joy to be received by these Maritime book stores and as the afternoon winds down we head to our day's final destination.  We are blessed by the hospitality of Fay's good friend Pam.  A warm and gracious hostess, she has opened her home completely to us for the next two nights as we connect with Halifax.

And just for tonight, we won't even consider discussing the rest of the day's driving.  Fay has held herself in complete control.  The terror only showed in a few twitches of facial muscles and once when she scrabbled for imaginary safety handles that should have been mounted above the passenger door.  Beyond that, I believe some things are best left unsaid.

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I have learned that it’s good for me to meditate on the Scriptures.  I’m so much farther ahead than meditating on a map of Fredericton.  God has had mercy on me on numerous occasions today.  I don’t know what it is with my fixation with the Edmunston sign but I seem to find myself pointed toward it far too often.  I’m crossing bridges where bridges aren’t supposed to be and covering twice the kilometers needed to get to where I want to go.  I must have an internal homing device.  Fay and I now cringe at every Edmunston sign.  

This morning my brother and I drop the car off for an oil change and return to the apartment where Bro hands me the keys to his Cavalier without so much as a nervous twitch.  Fay and I then proceed to seek out the stores on our list.  While Second Showing (consignment clothing boutique) is not exactly a book oriented stop, we feel compelled to check it out.  Strange thing is we have the chance to talk about our faith with the store owner—and she has brought it up.  Her words are to the effect that.  “If the other lady was here, she would laugh.  She’s been telling me that God is trying to get my attention.”  We marvel at his ability to put us where he wants us.  Our next stop is at the Lighthouse book store in town and we chat about our various books with one of the sales clerks.  He is a friendly and helpful man.  Our next stop is at Chapters and another wonderful store manager who spends quite a bit of time discussing our books.  From there, we stop for lunch.  That’s when my phone rings.  It’s my brother informing me that my car is ready. 

            “Do you want me to come get you?”  I had assumed that Bro would accompany me back to the mechanic’s to get my trusty tin can.

            “Just take Prospect left until you come to number seven.  Take the Kimble off-ramp.  You’ll remember the rest.”  We zig zag our way to the mechanic and after another desperate phone call I find the place, leave Fay with my car and try to find my way back in the Cavalier.

            Fifteen minutes later as we cross the bridge toward Miramachi leaving Fredericton behind, I come to the conclusion that I didn’t remember the rest.  Fay is in my car behind me laughing her fool head off.  I’m not entirely amused.

            As we pull into the parking lot of the condo, I realize that I don’t know where my phone is.  “I likely left it in the apartment.”  I say to myself as we take the elevator up.  Nope.  And it’s nowhere to be found.

We have one more store to visit and I decide to forget about the phone until we get back.  Our visit to the Olive Branch is awesome.  I have a feeling that Fredericton will be embracing our books if the response of these store owners is any indication.  We return to the apartment where I discover that my phone is exactly where I put it—in my bag.  It would have been nice to remember that before I tore through two cars, raced up and down two flights of stairs numerous times and dumped the contents of my purse.

These few days have been well worth the visit as I reflect on the great people we’ve met, the family reunion we’ve been part of and the awesome food we’ve eaten.  Speaking of food.  Mr. Pugsley has made it quite plain that he will go to the highest bidder and since my sister-in-law owns the refrigerator, both Fay and I have lost his primary affections.

            Watching the sun setting in Fredericton is a lovely end to any day.  As I see the colours drop below the horizon, I miss the sounds of my brother’s bagpipes.  He played for us last night and left us with that ancient feeling of having been somewhere else—perhaps the moors of Scotland.  Tonight we see the shadows of buildings and the emptying arch of the overpass.  Last night was the view from a hill over the St John and the hum of the drones and the call of The Highland Cathedral settling over the dusk.  I will miss it as we move on.

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I'm a bit sad today.  Fay has found a new friend here in New Brunswick and I'm feeling a bit of a third wheel.  She met Mr. Pugsley the first day we were here but she didn't really catch his eye until yesterday when he decided she would make a lovely companion.  Mr. Pugsley has those kind of eyes that just make you melt so I really can't blame Fay.  I have to admit that his sleek black hair trimmed with that tidy silver does kind of catch my eye too but I have resisted his bold advances.  Fay continues to act with the utmost decorum but I know she's weakening in the light of his obvious charms.  It's probably a good thing we're leaving Fredericton Tuesday morning or Fay might just find herself overcome.  Oh.  Didn't I tell you? Mr. Pugsley's a dog.

  (Mr. Pugsley is so enamoured that he grovels at Fay's feet given the chance)

This morning we went to church at Rusagonis Baptist Church.  No it isn't pronounced Russ-a-goan-us.  It's Rush-a-gorn-ush.  I have an inkling that perhaps New Brunswick has invented its own alphabet but that's just a theory.  Rev. MacDonald and his congregation welcomed us with open arms and we enjoyed wonderful music and a thought provoking sermon about showing God our love through worship. 

My brother decided to cook lunch for us.  I like how my brother cooks lunch.  We drive to Porter's Diner, slap our behinds down into a booth and feast on burgers and fries.  Oh! And pie:)

Now one would think that because it's Sunday and we car pooled in my sister-in-law's van that I wouldn't have any stories about my directional driving challenges to share.  Not so!  I, in my naivety thought a trip to Rusagonis to visit my other brother would be a piece of cake.  I can't help but think that when a sign says 'Rusagonis' and it points down a road in a very definite direction that one would find Rusagonis on that road.  I drove the full length of the road marked 'Rusagonis' and found nothing.  Turning around, I could only assume that the road labelled 'Waasis' was where I wanted to go.  Taking that route, I found the bridge and intersection that is the centre of Rusagonis.  Sigh.  I spent the afternoon enjoying a visit and Fay enjoyed an afternoon recovering from my ADHD-driven pace over the past three days.  Mr. Pugsley was quite put out that Fay didn't invite him to snuggle alongside her.  He'll get over it. 

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            While we didn’t quite make it to Riviere du Loup, we were close enough to allow a leisurely cruise through eastern Quebec and into northern New Brunswick where moose signs began to pop up with unnerving frequency.  Keeping my eyes peeled, we managed to get through the endless hills peppered with stands of birch and spruce without hitting any meese.  No, it is not a misspelling.  I have decided to invent a new word.  ‘Mooses’ is far too cumbersome.  Moose sounds too singular.  So it has to be meese.  After all if Canada has one Canada goose and several Canada geese, it stands to reason that one Canada moose should become a herd of Canada meese.  At any rate, none of the cute little meese decided to pose as a hood ornament and we cruised on into Fredericton with minimal stress.  There was one small incident that brought us to the conclusion that Fay and I are much alike in how we deal with certain situations.

            My instructions said to follow the Hanwell ramp to the right—after we veered left toward Fredericton.  What my instructions didn’t say was that there was also a Hanwell off-ramp just before the Fredericton/Moncton split.  We approached this first Hanwell ramp and I blurted out “Isn’t that the Hanwell exit?”  My words left my mouth just as we darted past it and Fay and I looked at each other.  Mild panic edged Fay’s words. 

            “Did we miss the Fredericton/Moncton split?  I didn’t see it.”

            “We must have.”  I replied with that same nervous vocal tone.  “But I didn’t see it either.”

            We looked at the walls of rock that edged both sides of the Trans Canada and knew that we’d have to drive to the next exit to turn around.  Damping down on the panic we rationalized our solutions to each other, deciding that it wouldn’t be such a big deal to have to back-track to the Hanwell exit.  And then off in the distance a large blue sign broadcast words that set us to laughing.  It was the Fredericton/Moncton split.  We hadn’t missed it after all.

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We have begun our great journey--Fay and I--and bemoaned Ruth's absence.  We are praying for you Ruth and Paul and family! 

It began with a dip into the early morning chill as we packed Fay's books (mine were done two days ago), prepared the last breakfast for hubby (he is on his own for a week and a half) and eased the car from the driveway.  Toronto was a breeze.  We almost passed through unaware with our conversation and the light traffic distracting us.  And then came Montreal.  Whoever decided that three lanes of concrete hovering over the city's core was an efficient way to move traffic didn't think about all the feeder lanes that would cling to it like the tentacles of a mutated octopus.  We spent almost two hours inching along that cement prison and commented more than once that we could walk faster.  We finally came to the conclusion that God was teaching us patience.

As evening approached so did our pursuit of the right hotel for the night.  The first one was offered at $99.99 which at first glance seemed to me not a bad deal.  But Fay--mighty warrior of negotiations--said not so.  She inspected the room--and we held our breaths to keep the cigarette smoke out of our lungs.  A definite 'no'.  Our next one was a better room and a cheaper fare but still the smoke.  At this point Fay was ready for battle and I was ready for bed.  Like a hound with a bone we pursued the ultimate accomodations and by 8:30 had secured a lovely place for relatively the same cost of our first stop.  Fay, have I told you that you're my hero? 

Goodnight and talk to you all tomorrow.

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Deuteronomy 1:1-10:  These are the words Moses spoke to all Israel in the desert east of the Jordan--that is, in the Arabah--opposite Suph, between Paran and Tophel, Laban, Hazeroth and Dizahab.  (It takes eleven days to go from Horeb to Kadesh Barnea by the Mount Seir road.)

In the fortieth year, on the first day of the eleventh month, Moses proclaimed to the Israelites all that the LORD had commanded him concerning them.  This was after he had defeated Sihon king of the Amorites, who reigned in Heshbon, and at Edrei had defeated Og king of Bashan, who reigned in Ashtaroth.

East of the Jordan in the territory of Moab, Moses began to expound this law, saying:

The LORD our God said to us at Horeb,  "You have stayed long enough at this mountain.  Break camp and advance into the hill country of the Amorites; go to all the neighboring peoples in the Arabah, in the mountains, in the western foothills, in the Negev and along the coast, to the land of the Canaanites and to Lebanon, as far as the great river, the Euphrates.  See, I have given you this land.  Go in and take possession of the land that the LORD swore he would give to your fathers--to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob--and to their descendants after them."

At that time I said to you, "You are too heavy a burden for me to carry alone.  The LORD you God has increased your numbers so that today you are as many as the stars in the sky.

Psalm 88:1-5:  O LORD, the God who saves me, day and night I cry out before you.  May my prayer come before you; turn your ear to my cry.  For my soul is full of trouble and my life draws near the grave.  I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am like a man without strength.  I am set apart with the dead, like the slain who lie in the grave, whom you remember no more, who are cut off from your care.

Jeremiah 12:6-10:  Your brothers, your own family--even they have betrayed you; they have raised a loud cry against you.  Do not trust them, though they speak well of you. 

"I will forsake my house, abandon my inheritance; I will give the one I love into the hands of her enemies.  My inheritance has become to me like a lion in the forest.  She roars at me; therefore I hate her.  Has not my inheritandce become to me like a speckled bird of prey that other birds of prey surround and attack?  Go and gather all the wild beasts; bring them to devour.  Many shepherds will ruin my vineyard and trample down my field; they will turn my pleasant field into a desolate wasteland.

Mark 8:31-38:  He then began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and after three days rise again.  He spoke plainly about this, and Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him.

But when Jesus turned and looked at his disciples, he rebuked Peter.  "Get behind me, Satan!"  he said.  "You do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men."

Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said:  "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.  For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it.  What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?  Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?  If anyone is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes in his Father's glory with the holy angels."

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