June 2009 | Insight For Living Canada

INSIGHTS MAGAZINE CANADA

From Millstones to Milestones

by Ben Lowell

Twenty-five years of commitment to the success of anything these days is cause to celebrate. A silver anniversary is very much the exception rather than the rule. Twenty-five years of marriage is considered remarkable. Twenty-five years dedicated to the same employer almost unheard of. And twenty five years of ministry dedicated to the teaching of God’s Word…priceless.

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Rocks and Milestones

by Steve Johnson

Singer Tom Cochrane sang, "Life is a Highway." M. Scott Peck wrote about The Road Less Travelled. And British essayist Oliver Goldsmith said, "Life is a journey that must be travelled no matter how bad the roads and accommodations." Regardless of who said it, or how, we all recognize we are moving down this road called life. There was a beginning to our earthly sojourn and there will be an end to it. Along the way we encounter milestones. They mark our path, measure our progress, and simultaneously give mute witness to the distance remaining.

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A Mother's Role Changes

by Grace Fox

My hands shook as I pinned a rose on my son's tuxedo lapel. "Are you ready?" I asked. "I am," Matthew said. "I'm glad today’s finally here." Eight months prior he'd proposed to his sweetheart and she'd said yes. Together they'd planned and prayed about this day. Friends and family had gathered, and the ceremony was about to begin.

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Smarty's Guide to Money

by Phil Callaway

When the financial and housing markets hit the skids recently, I sarcastically said to a friend, "This sure came as a huge surprise, huh? I mean it's not like we've been overspending or going into debt. It's not like we would spend money we don't have buying things we don't need to impress people who won't even show up at our funeral. What do you think we are? Crazy people?"

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Surviving when Everyone Else is Celebrating

by Marina Hofman Willard

All of your friends are getting married, but you are still single; all of your friends are graduating and finding the perfect job, but you have no idea where you want to direct your studies.

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My Dad

by Chuck Swindoll

My dad died last night. He left like he had lived. Quietly. Graciously. With dignity. Without demands or harsh words or even a frown, he surrendered himself—a tired, frail, humble gentleman—into the waiting arms of his Saviour. As I stroked the hair from his forehead and kissed him good-bye, a hundred boyhood memories played around in my head. When I learned to ride a bike, he was there. When I wrestled with the multiplication table, his quick wit erased the hassle. When I discovered the adventure of driving a car, he was near, encouraging me.