“The RoseBouquet”

The last week of July there is always a Missions Conference in the small town of Waldheim, about 45 minutes north of Saskatoon. It’s the 57th annual, so it has a long history, and I can recall my parents taking us to be present at least one service - usually a Sunday evening - from when I was 12. (I even remember being sent out to the car to babysit my restless younger siblings). The missionaries of the valley area who are home on furlough, or planning to go out to a foreign country for the first time, apply to get on the agenda of these four evenings, so they can report on their work, or their needs for going. A budget is set, and very often enough comes in from the generous people of the area to help out most of the missionaries financially.

They always bring in a good speaker and a music group too.

The last few years I’ve gone on the Sunday night and then begged off as too busy the rest of the evenings, but this week I’m taking the evenings off from my usual web-work and catching a ride with my good neighbours, Joe and Penny. They are manning a display table for our WTM there.

Sunday evening when we drove back after 10 pm, we watched an amazing light show in the clouds to our right as a tremendous thunderstorm rolled in from the west. On the radio we heard how a tornado had touched down near Radisson at 9:05 pm. We were safely home before the thunderstorm really spilled out over our houses here. I couldn’t get a local radio station clearly, so only heard the next day that another tornado had touched down near Dalmeny - which is much closer to our city.

Yesterday was a new and sunny day, with some clouds. But when we came back there was a glorious sunset to watch in the west. This time we had Priscilla and her three teenage daughters in the vehicle too. Suddenly Joe asked if any of us had to be back in a hurry. When we said no, he turned off the highway to the west, and didn’t tell us right away what he wanted to show us.

We bounced through some rough grassy roads with deep mud holes. The water and mud flew up past our windows, but Joe pressed on. There was a certain property right on the North Saskatchewan river he wanted to show us. When attending a former church he was part of a committee that was going to turn it into a church campgrounds. When we arrived we all piled out and oh-h-ed and aw-w-ed at the rustic cedar cabin and the marvelous view westward over the river banks to the other wise. Right against a dimming but red and orange sunset.

We all got excited at the possibilities! The teen girls begged to come back today for a picnic. Priscilla knew her little car could never make it through that muddy road. Mine couldn’t either! But — now my imagination doesn’t want to stop. I fell asleep dreaming about it last night, and this morning in my bath I was building a Retreat Centre there, naming the cabins that would be built, and so on. I’ve really had to beg the Lord to help me put this aside, for I must get some other work done.

My imagination keeps laughing at me and darting away again in another direction.

Maybe this just means I have a writer’s mind and that it easily builds empires under my thatch of hair. Do you ever think like this too?

Or - could I call this a vision?