The Sounds of Christmas

“We wish you a Merry Christmas!  

We wish you a Merry Christmas!

We wish you a Merry Christmas, 

And a Happy New Year!”

This was the melody drifting across the parking lot on the final shopping Saturday before Christmas.  I happen to be in balmy Abbotsford, B.C., but the sound of a Salvation Army brass ensemble could be heard in any number of communities across this expansive country.  As this collection of young and…. not so young… folks play common Christmas carols to all who pass by – – I witness something fascinating.  (Sidebar: the benefit of not growing up Army or playing an instrument was that I could stand beside the kettle and watch this wonderful moment unfold).

You see, with every musical note that bounces between the snowflakes and floats between the dashing people, the cars and the shopping carts, I watch an interesting phenomenon begin to take place….  Ready for it?

People smile.   

People are smiling.

We aren’t just talking about hiding a shy grin, but literal ear-to-ear, almost laughing, hurts-the-cheeks, tooth-filled smiles!  The simple sound of Christmas carols played on brass instruments while they are walking into a store, and I see before my very eyes people’s hearts turning to mush; they can’t even contain their happiness.  Their smile is giving them away.  The normally intensely stressed faces of those with too much to do and too little time, for those who have been fighting the crowds for weeks, I see them actually pause long enough to listen to a few bars, to pull out some change or small bills to pop into the kettle before heading about their business.  But this time, something is different.  They go about their day with a smile on their face!

Because I am not a ‘band geek’, I may never *fully* get it.  But this morning, I felt I got it as much as I ever will.  I felt I understood why these bandsmen and women were so committed and willing to sacrifice their last shopping Saturday before Christmas to play some tunes for strangers.  I got to see the gift of hope and of Christmas that was being offered through music, and how freely it was accepted by the passers-by!

So too is the gift of salvation through Jesus free:).  I think as God listens to the sounds of the band, and as he watches the shoppers’ smiling faces, he is saying to all of us, “Now THIS is the way I want you to celebrate my Son’s birthday!  Enjoy the sounds of Christmas my children!”

So,... in the words of one converted Ebenezer Scrooge and Andrea Bocelli, “God bless us everyone!”

Not Gander, NL.... but the beginning of a new & exciting adventure:)

I have been encouraged to continue blogging 'Joyce's Journey' even though the Gander leg of the journey is currently complete... Oh, twist my rubber arm why don't you!?!?! Especially since there is certainly much to tell following my departure mid/late August from the very unique culture and hospitable environment that is Newfoundland. Miss all you Ganderites BTW:(.

Most notable on the news front is my engagement to the 'other J' - the one, the only, Joshua C. Downer.

Sidebar 1: if his dreams come true - this is the same Josh who will one day be General Downer (a future world leader of The Salvation Army for all you non-Salvationists out there who are wondering what on earth I am rambling on about). And yes, for all of you 'I told you so's' out there, it *is* the very same Josh who I perhaps protested just a little too much was (and always would be) 'just a friend' and was - let me quote here - "like a little brother to me." Turns out God had other plans!

  Sidebar 2: I think it is important that I clear up any confusion here that it *is* a different kind of love that I have for Josh than I do for my lil' bros Paul and Mark.

For those of you who received the news by seeing it plastered all over facebook, let me tell you that... I blame Josh (lol). I blame Josh because of the 125 people he told in advance that he was going to propose to me on that specific day (turns out he tells people things when he is excited)!!! Josh had to quickly get the word out that night before we left and went camping with my family where we would be without access to the internet for days. Thus, everyone who he had told would be left hanging wondering if I had said yes!?!? Oh, so to not leave you hanging, I did say YES.

I've heard the comment that it came as a bit of a shock to some because it seemed to happen so fast, and I take a page out of Ma & Pa Wilson's book on that one: "When you know, you know." Life is too short - I am learning that we shouldn't waste a single, precious minute on this earth! Josh taught me that,... continues to teach me that.

But regardless of the details of how we got together, none of that stuff would've mattered if this wasn't what I believe to be "a match made in Heaven". Am I perfect? I think we all know the answer to that question.... Is he perfect? Please refer to previous statement. Are we perfect as a couple? Ummm! However, I do believe we *are* perfect for one another. We are like peanut butter and jam, like peas and carrots (?!?!), like ketchup and mustard (don't worry Josh, I will be the mustard)!!!

What's the story of the engagement? Well, you'll have to wait for a future blog post to hear that one, but the real story - the important story - is:

I LOVE HIM. Plain & simple. And I thank God for him every day.

Okay, enough mushiness from me - just wanted to put it out there that I am still alive and kickin', that I am excited about my final year of training, but more than that, I can't wait to see what God has in store for Josh and my life together in marriage and in ministry - M+M.

GANDER, NL - my final chapter!?!?

Well, I am much delayed on my promised final post from my Gander adventures, but thank goodness for the expression, 'better late than never', otherwise I would be in t-r-o-u-b-l-e!?!?!

So I can hardly believe it. I am officially an old person. How do I know this, or why do I think this you may ask? Simple. Because all I want to say is that with each passing day, the time flies by more quickly. And only old people say that, right!? But with age comes wisdom (I hope) and never a truer statement has there been. I am honestly shocked at the way my summer assignment flew by in the blink of an eye. Here we are, back in Winnipeg a few weeks into my second and final year of The Salvation Army's CFOT (College for Officer Training).

There is too much to say and no adequate words to adequately communicate the influence and the impact my summer in Gander has had over my life and my future ministry potential. Since I can't talk about it all, I am going to focus on a few highlights. But for this particular post (Pt. I), I am going to talk about labels.

LABELS

Some labels are ultra-recognizable... there are symbols that seem to cross all language barriers and cultural divides. McDonald's, Coca Cola and Nike (I perhaps optimistically like to think even The Salvation Army shield?!?!). All of these are symbols known around the world; as a marketing tool they are highly effective. These labels have sight recognition for the young and the old, male or female, and regardless of creed or colour they are known the world over. But as I left Gander almost two months ago, I realized that I have made the mistake of allowing others to place labels on me - more importantly, I've placed many of these labels on myself.

Example

One particular label I have given myself is that I am *not* a crier. Although there were long periods of my life where this has been true, 'not crying' or 'being a stubborn Brit' does not define who I am. It had almost become like a badge of honour over the course of my life, but I realized it is nothing to be proud of - and quite honestly, *not* who I am anymore. I don't cry on every occasion, but I do cry. Especially when I allow the Holy Spirit to do His work in my life. And lemme tell you, God has been busy - especially over the course of my summer and since my return to CFOT. The tears have been flowing.

The conclusion: I am Joyce. A strong independent woman who sometimes needs to have a decent cry... The difference is, I am finally a-okay with it (and willing to admit that I do it). Forget the labels - we should allow ourselves to be who we are - who God has called each one of us to be. The book I was reading over the summer talks about finding our identity in Christ - and what struck me (though not particularly profound) is that it is more important to find out who God wants us to be than trying to maintain the impression that others have of us.

Think about yourself and your life. Have you been cast with a label? Are you known as 'the funny one' or 'the joker'? Do people call you the 'academic' or 'the pretty one'? Are you solely defined as a 'father' or a 'wife'? An 'officer', a 'cadet', or a 'single'? I encourage you to not allow yourself to be limited to a singular dimension or to be confined by how you have always been labeled, but instead to continue to allow yourself to be all that Jesus wants you to be - whatever that looks like. That is what my summer in Gander taught me - to not limit myself by holding on to old labels from the past, but to continue to grow into the person that God wants me to be.

Gander, NL - "There's No Place Like Home"

As I begin to prepare myself for another round of good-byes next week - this time to the many new friends I have made since my arrival here in Gander only 8 short weeks ago, I reflect on the idea of home.

I remember when people used to ask my former officers from Suncoast Citadel where they were from, they would always respond, "Goderich - THIS is our home." People would say, "No, that isn't what we meant... Where are you from originally?" And I now ponder this question and their response as I prepare myself for a lifetime of good-byes, an officership full of new places, different communities and people; I think about the question - Where is my HOME?

My good gal pal sent me a card in the mail the other day of the infamous Dorothy shoes from Wizard of Oz (of which I have a strikingly similar pair). And she sent it because one day when I was talking to her, I was having what I will term 'the crisis of home'... Let me be honest with you (as long as I can be confident we keep it between us, okay?)... Sometimes doing God's will is hard - and I have had the occasional moment since last June when I was accepted into training where I have just wanted to go home. Not really with any expectation of actually going home of course, but there has been a fleeting moment where I daydream about life BC - before 'the call'- happened. So I said to my friend this particular 'crisis of home' day - "I thought about going home today, and I realized, I don't have a home to go to!" Well, this momentary self-pity party made me think about whether that was actually true - was it a physical house, or is it a home (as in the singular) that I am missing?

There is the well-known expression, "Home is where the heart is". Well, if that is true, it is quite difficult for me, because that means my home is in the "Ashley" cottage in the Village of Northwood in Shropshire, England where half of my family is. It also means my home is in Denfield or St. Mary's, Ontario where the rest of my family are. Or in my office where many of my former coworkers and friends still spend many of their waking hours.

I feel at home beside the water at Sunset Beach, or walking on the boardwalk along the Goderich beaches. I have also felt at home running along the boardwalk around Cobb's Pond while here in Gander, or while eating dinner (oops, I mean supper) around the Pinksen table. I felt at home inside the walls of the Booth Centre in Winnipeg where one of the residents would proudly tell me he had been clean for 5 days, but I was also comfortably at home sitting outside on Josh's balcony in Waverley when Nyree would show up to go for an iced capp/chai tea run.

Ok, I think you get the picture since I have totally beaten the point to death!?!? If home is where the heart is, that means we have a lot of homes to maintain....

Add the interesting dynamic of my beloved Sally Ann. Is my home now where ever the Army sends me? Believing, of course, that God uses the Army as a vehicle in which I can minister to people and serve him... Should I be following not the proverbial yellow brick road, but be led along the yellow, red and blue trail of The Salvation Army - wherever it leads??? Does it eventually lead me to the Emerald City? I think of the song that we sang (repeatedly) the night of the Prayer Warriors commissioning:

Lead me Lord, I will follow

Lead me Lord, I will go

You have called me, I will answer

Lead me Lord, I will go.

I think my home is now where ever God leads me - it just so happens that because of the nature of my calling to be an officer in The Salvation Army, that means a lot of different homes in the course of my life here on earth.

In the words of Dorothy and as I tap my sparkly red shoes together saying, "There's no place like home," well, I realize that is a true story... It is just that I realize that home in this life is not a singular: where home is - what home looks like - that is fluid, constantly changing, and certainly not Kansas anymore...

Gander, NL - acting C.O.

Well, it was scary when someone walked into the office and made some crack about me being the officer in command... What? But after contemplating that comment for a surprisingly long period of time, I realized it was sort of a true story. I *am* the 'acting' corps officer for Gander while the 'actual' corps officers are away. It was just the title threw me a little - you see - the lowly cadet role has been quite comfortable. The bottom of the totem pole is a safe place,.... because from there, the fall is not far at all.

I remember 'back in the day' I went overnight from being a student planner to a planner, where reports were no longer cosigned and where the buck stopped with me rather than just being a stop along the way. That realization felt similar to what I imagined being hit by a Mack truck would feel like. I recall thinking, "AHHHH!!! I am no different from yesterday, I certainly don't know anything more"- but there I was: along with the benefit of my salary increasing, came a not so positive exponential increase in my anxiety!?!?! For a long time afterward, I wondered whether the additional wage was worth the stress. To clarify,... it didn't remain quite as stressful and thus: worth it.

Sidebar: I loved my job. I was - and likely still am - a planning nerd!

Thankfully, my transition into ACO (acting corps officer) was nothing like as painful. WHY? 3 reasons come to mind immediately...

(1) this is only for a short period of time, and so I know unless I really pull a doozy, there will still be a church standing on the officers return. Not to mention the fact that my officers prepared me well for their leaving and that they are only a Blackberry message away;).

(2) obviously - and most importantly - I have the BG on my side. (For those who don't know the Wilson lingo - B.G. stands for 'big guy', aka God. Sidebar 2: sometimes we use BGU - 'big guy upstairs - to avoid confusion since we also call Dad and my brothers BG).

(3) very closely linked to #2, the BGU makes sure we are well taken care of and he does that through his people. God has surrounded me by some amazing people during my stay here in Gander.

Case in point:

I have enjoyed and am experiencing what I

consider to be the greatest gift of Newfoundland - and that is the hospitality of the people. Since I have been on my own, it seems to be the worry and concern of the entire corps that I not be alone in the evenings and - in particular - that I eat. (Like that has EVER been an issue for me, lol;). The word 'leftovers' has become like music to my ears - and not only do I get to enjoy a delicious meal and good company, I often get to take home a doggy bag...

dream come true really:).

Sidebar 3: I am totally at home here with portion size. Most of the time on the 'mainland' I am considered to be a big eater - but not here. Here, I don't stand out at all... And the greatest thing is, the more you eat, the more they like you. I am really working on having people like me *a lot* and I am grateful the tailor gave me room to *spread* in my uniform!!!

Anyway, yesterday I was "feelin' the love". I just felt like these are my peeps, you know? It is amazing how quickly you can begin to feel part of a community - and I did. I do. I love visiting people, I love getting to hear people's stories, I love learning about our 'cultural differences' and the differences between our dialects, I adore being taught Newfoundland expressions, and most of all I appreciate the way that I have seen glimpses of God through my interactions with his people. In the words of Becca Allen, it is "cool beans".

Twin Ponds Camp - Music Camp that is...

Well,... it was a week of firsts. There are too many things that happened to go over them all, but here are some highlights of my *firsts* - Five Firsts to be exact:

First Time at Music Camp - shocking information for Salvationists I know, but since I (shock, horror) did not grow up in The Salvation Army, this culture of music camp fascinated me to no end. People's intensity about camp, the number of times I heard, "I live from year to year for music camp," the schedule. Let me tell you about the schedule. These kids pay for and look forward to a dusk until dawn filled day of activities - which is focused on theory, Bible, band, worship, vocals, electives, and - of course - eating. I don't know how people keep up with the schedule, because I was exhausted and I obviously had more breaks than most since I couldn't help much with music theory or vocal practice or band sectionals (whatever they are). And don't get your knickers in a twist everyone who sees the 'band camp' poster image - I know there is a difference between band camp & music camp, I just liked the idea of being wanted there...

First Time I *really* experienced 'flies' (as they affectionately call them here) - I have always known that mosquitoes loved me, but this was just plain ridiculous. I was literally dripping in pure, potent & poisonous DEET, but to no avail. These critters LOVED me. I would feel something on my neck, would put my hand to it, and pull away literally covered with blood. If it sounds nasty, you should've seen how it looked. *Not* a pretty situation let me tell you. I can honestly say, my least favourite part of camp, and that I was just about willing to give up my first born (which is not yet a twinkle let me clarify) in order to stop the insanity!

First Time being in a timbrel drill -

see video and photo for the specifics of my new mad skillz!!! Let me just say, that I didn't expect the practices to be as much fun as they were - my side was hurting from laughing so hard - the Gander Group + George is a great bunch!!! I also didn't realize what a dangerous activity playing the tambourine could be until I learned the move, "the Chop". If you watch the video, you will understand why it is titled as such. I didn't fear for my own life as much as I worried about decapitating my neighbour to my right! I am pleased to report, no one was injured in the making of this video...

First Time that my 'turkey bum' has come in handy - we played an incredibly fun game called "Minute to Win It" and 2 of the activities I had to compete in included: (1) pulling myself around an obstacle course in 60 seconds on a small carpet, and (2) shaking ping pong balls out of a kleenex box attached squarely above my bum! I think enough said on this item, but lets just say the lack of hips or no bum would have been detrimental to the competition - and that was not an issue for me...

First Time being a Camp Counsellor - and let me tell you, I *loved* it. I found myself getting attached to the campers, remembering what it was like when I went to camp and the relationships that I formed with my counsellors, recalling how intense emotions are in those formative years, and just being both excited and burdened for these girls at both the potential pain and possibilities that lay ahead for them. The 'Prayer Stations' throughout the camp on the Wednesday night was a pretty significant break-through I know for many of the campers and counsellors in attendance - myself included. I continue to feel God revealing his plan for my life as the summer progresses - though I must admit, the process can be somewhat painful at times.

FINAL THOUGHTS ON FIRSTS: I never want to avoid or shy away from the opportunity to experience *firsts* - because each time I do face the first head on, I am surprised at how much I grow & gain & learn from trying something new!

It was a fun, fun week - which ended with Kyla, Josh and I being made honourary Newfoundlanders and lunch at Jungle Jim's with my keener, band geek boy who showed up for the last day and a half along with my good pals, the 2 Lt. Haas's! GOOD TIMES at Music Camp:).

And she heads West - the west coast of Newfoundland that is...

So, 2 weeks ago - Tues after work - the 5 of us (4 Pinksens + moi) piled into their vehicle and made the 3.5 - 4 hr journey to Deer Lake, Pasadena and Corner Brook. Yes, we were scattered in as many houses as there were people... I love road trips - so it was great to hear the running commentary of interesting facts and tidbits about the island along the way, including our visit to Norris Arm, their first appointment and a gorgeous community where there are *literally* 2 streets in town.

Following a number of stops along the way, I spent the first night in Corner Brook at the Fudge's quarters - where I was warmly welcomed with a lovely room made up for me and a full, hot breakfast in the morning. Calvin, Josh and I were on the road by 9 am to go berry picking. By 10:30 am, we were finished picking 2 crates worth of berries, and none too soon as far as I am concerned. Let me tell you, it was *hot, hot, hot*! As much as I enjoyed our berry picking adventures, I have decided that once a year is just about enough of that particular activity - my back was quite sore for the following 2 days (feel free to insert old lady joke here).

The day flew by, but let me tell you, things got a little tense when it was 4 pm and I had yet to eat lunch. If it is not yet clear to ALL who know me, I *heart* food. I mean, I reeeally love it. But not only do I love it, I have to have it. It is essential that I eat 3X a day (usually with snacks in between). Please see conversation below:

The tension started building around 12:30 pm, after we had toured the Corps and gone out to the Captain Hook's (?) look-out to see the view of the city during the day...

Josh (in his usual keener excited way): What do you want to do now?

Joyce (in mildly cranky & sarcastic voice): What do you think I want to do?

Josh: Well, I am seeing a yellow flag telling me it may be food time.

Joyce: And you would be right.

Advance 3 hours with only a blueberry muffin between me and hysteria

Josh: Want to eat our chicken at this parking lot that overlooks the harbour and has a train? You know how I like trains?

Joyce (note deadly pause between each word): I. Don't. Care. Where. We. Eat... I. Am. Starving.

Josh: But the view isn't very good here, what if we just drive down the road a bit and see if we can find a nicer spot?

Joyce: You have 3 minutes - before I blow.

15 minutes later when we are safely back in the exact same spot by the train

Josh (in distressed voice): ... No, its fine... Its okay, I know you're hungry. Its just,... well,... there's no ketchup for my taters.

Joyce (hysteria has officially kicked in - in loud and not so pleasant voice): Do you not know me at all? I. Need. To. Eat. NOW!!!!

Back at the Fudge's 10 minutes later after I have stuffed 3 taters and 2 bites of chicken into my mouth, I can actually feel a peace and calm wash over me as I swallow bites of food:

Joyce (now returning to Joyful Joyce): So, I may have lost my cool a little earlier. Sorry about that. But Josh, you know how important it is that I eat at regular intervals?!?!

Josh: Yeah, but it is just so fun to see you mad!

Other than the food debacle, I had a great time seeing the gorgeous landscape of the west coast, visiting "the boy", meeting Cory & Pam's family, touring their home towns. Again I am lovin' the personalized tour details, and I quote, "And this is the baseball field where my head got sliced open," or, "I used to get off the bus here and pick up snacks from this corner store when I was going to visit Cory, which I would be done by the time I'd walked to his house!" This life here on earth, it consists of these funny memories that we have and that we hold on to. I love that God created us to have these incredible brains which can recall tiny details from our past because of a sight, a sound or a smell. And equally, I love that we can share those memories with people.

FINAL THOUGHT: It is the stories that make a place come alive, it is where people come from and the families and people we are surrounded by that form our character, that make us who we are. I love the opportunity to have a glance or a sneak peek into the lives of those I care about. And that's what this flash trip west was for me...