Wed. May 18/2011 evening concert, 7 pm, 4215 Fairview Ave. Minnetonka, MN 55343 Minneapolis, contact Jeff Evans 612 616-9951 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 612 616-9951 end_of_the_skype_highlighting jcevans77@gmail.com
Thu. May 19 - Liberty Classical Academy in Minneapolis, 1:15 - 2:00 PM
Fri. May 20 - AM Christian school in Newton, IA
- Evening concert at Newton Christian Reformed Church 511 S 5th Ave. E. 6:30PM Contact Aaron Gunsaulus 641-792-2162 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 641-792-2162 end_of_the_skype_highlighting or email ncrc@iowatelecom.net
Sun. May 22/2011 evening concert for Christ The Word Church, 4909 Sylvania Ave. Toledo, OH 43623 7 PM concert, contact Tyson Turner at 419-490-6864 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 419-490-6864 end_of_the_skype_highlighting tyson@christtheword.com http://www.christtheword.com/
Mon. May 23 Covenant Christian Church, Wyoming, ON contact Irene at organizedpandemonium@gmail.com 519 849-5610 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 519 849-5610 end_of_the_skype_highlighting Directions to Covenant Christian Church: From the 402 exit at Oil Heritage Road. At the end of the exit ramp turn left (south) and cross over the 402. At the lights, turn Right (west) at London Line / Hwy 22. In a few Kilometers you will see Covenant Christian Church on your left (across from People’s Church). Covenant Christian Church is on the corner of London Line and Camlachie Rd
Wed. May 25 Emmanuel Canadian Reformed Church in Guelph, 8037 Hyy7 East, R.R. #2 Guelph Contact Brigette Vanhuisstede 905-387-6252 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 905-387-6252 end_of_the_skype_highlighting pbvanh@mountaincable.net
Thur. May 26 Maranatha Christian Reformed Church, 4561 Langstaff Rd. Woodbridge, ON L4L 2B2 905-856-9640 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 905-856-9640 end_of_the_skype_highlighting contact Sharon Brink rsbrink@sympatico.ca
Fri. May 27 Wellandport United Reformed Church, contact Sharlene Huizinga jsjahuizinga@hotmail.com (905) 701-9350 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting (905) 701-9350 end_of_the_skype_highlighting
Sat. May 28 Ancaster Canadian Reformed Church 7pm (doors open at 6pm). Contact Brigette Vanhuisstede 905-387-6252 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 905-387-6252 end_of_the_skype_highlighting pbvanh@mountaincable.net
Mon. May 30 Reformed Presbyterian Church of the North Hills, 606 Thompson Run Rd., Pittsburgh, PA. 6:30 PM concert, contact Tammy Anderson 412 444-5066 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 412 444-5066 end_of_the_skype_highlighting tammy.anderson@yahoo.com http://jamiesolesconcert.blogspot.com/
Wed. June 1 Mars Hill Academy, 3240 Aero Dr. Mason, OH 45040
Contact: Tammy Peters 513-777-1167 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 513-777-1167 end_of_the_skype_highlighting htpeters@fuse.net
Thur. June 2 ClearNote Church 2401 S Endwright Rd
Bloomington, IN 47403 contact Jody Killingsworth jody.killingsworth@gmail.com
Fri. June 3 Cornerstone Reformed Church, 801 North Almond, Carbondale, IL 62901 618-549-3333 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 618-549-3333 end_of_the_skype_highlighting (o) Contact Burke Shade shade79@gmail.com
Sun. June 5 Providence Church, 9124 Sappington Road, St. Louis, MO., 5:00 to 8:00 PM contact Richard Hiers patria@thehiers.com
Monday, May 09, 2011
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Childhood Stories - The Bear
My earliest memory that I know happened in my own head was a dream I had when I was three. We now lived at Reid Lake, north of Prince George, B.C. on a farm, I think. It had fields, and a pond, and a barn, and a creek, all the trappings of farmness. One of the fields was across the creek, I think it had to be forded for there was no bridge. On the far side of the field the track which led through the field went into the trees, out of sight and into imagination. Who knew what kind of creatures lived in those woods?
In dreamland the imagination can take mysterious things and show them in the clear light of day. I remember going to the field on the far side of the creek. I walked across the stream on a log which had been set there for that purpose. I was out in the middle of the field when I saw a big black bear standing in the track at the opening of the forest, and he was looking at me. I saw him get down on all fours, and I knew I had to run home or be eaten by the bear, so I ran as fast as I could go back to the log. I could hear him gaining on me, hoping for a little boy for lunch, but I knew, somehow, that if I could just get across that log the bear wouldn’t get me, because it couldn’t walk across logs like I could. I made it, and here I am today to tell the tale! Ah, dreams!
In dreamland the imagination can take mysterious things and show them in the clear light of day. I remember going to the field on the far side of the creek. I walked across the stream on a log which had been set there for that purpose. I was out in the middle of the field when I saw a big black bear standing in the track at the opening of the forest, and he was looking at me. I saw him get down on all fours, and I knew I had to run home or be eaten by the bear, so I ran as fast as I could go back to the log. I could hear him gaining on me, hoping for a little boy for lunch, but I knew, somehow, that if I could just get across that log the bear wouldn’t get me, because it couldn’t walk across logs like I could. I made it, and here I am today to tell the tale! Ah, dreams!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Childhood Stories - Church
We went to church in Prince George at the Evangelical Free Church, pastored by Cliff Deitrich, a short little bald fellow who preached with a good bit of gospel fire and fervor. My father had learned a good bit of what it meant to walk with the Lord from this man, and I owe him a great deal because of it. I don’t remember much at all about that church, except that I threw up in Sunday School one day, having eaten too much Puffed Wheat for breakfast.
I also remember getting to church on one particular Sunday. Our Ford van was broken down, and the only vehicle we had that ran was Dad’s new purple 1971 Ford pickup, which of course we all wanted to ride in. Grandma was with us that day, and we somehow got all nine of us into the cab of that truck and went to church. I remember sitting on the left side of dad as he drove.
I also remember getting to church on one particular Sunday. Our Ford van was broken down, and the only vehicle we had that ran was Dad’s new purple 1971 Ford pickup, which of course we all wanted to ride in. Grandma was with us that day, and we somehow got all nine of us into the cab of that truck and went to church. I remember sitting on the left side of dad as he drove.
Monday, August 09, 2010
Childhood Stories - Moberly - Dufresne's Cow
It was a fine summer, and Francis Dufresne’s beef cattle were out foraging in the rich meadows behind his farm. They were used to wandering far afield and fending for themselves; no need to return to the farmyard for food when there was a lot to eat back in the bush. They meandered their way to the back side of his property, where they found a fence in a somewhat weak state.
If Bill Watterson is correct about the behavior of cows when they are not being watched, these ones probably debated about the best way to get that fence down so they could get to the grass on the other side. One may presume that they got their biggest bull to come and lean on that already leaning fencepost until it was down low enough for them to step over it without hurting themselves. Ahhh! Freedom! They moved on thru the meadow until they came to a cultivated hay field, where they began to enjoy themselves. This was even better food than usual!
Someone from our house looked out across the field and saw a large band of Hereford cattle spreading out across it, having a good lunch. Once we identified where they came from, Dad and Mom rallied the kids and got us to herd them out of the field through the gate, out the driveway, and back up the road toward the Dufresne farm. When the cows learned that the gig was up, most of them co-operated with us and started following the desired path. But one cow and her calf lagged behind; she was more interested in grazing than moving. By the time she looked up the rest of the cows had gone through the gate and were marching along the driveway. She ran to catch up, but in doing so she missed the gate and ran further down the field with her calf. Seeing a fence between her and her friends, she did what she had been doing before; she stopped to graze. There is one in every crowd…
“Jamie, run down into that end of the field and herd her back out of there. We will set guards along the way that she came to keep her from going back that way.”
“Ok!” And off I ran, taking the long way so as to get on the other side of her.
I had been on the farm about a year by this time, but I was still quite uneducated in the ways of cows, especially ones with calves. I had not observed that look a cow gets in her eye when somebody or something threatens her calf, and I didn’t observe it this time either. I had herded our docile bunch of milk cows before, but this was my first experience with a beef cow.
I armed myself with clods of dirt and a couple sticks to throw at her, so as to frighten her into the right direction, and I headed out into the field, which was probably 150 yards across at that point. She was out in the middle, and I approached her till she was probably 30 feet away. I hollered at her to move, but she just stood there looking at me.
That was why I brought along the clods, as a secondary means of persuasion. I threw one at her, and it hit her on the shoulder. Her nostrils flared, and she looked hard at me, then pawed the ground. I threw another clod; same results, a low moo and a belligerent pawing of the ground.
I had never seen this sort of thing before, and I had obviously not read any of the right sort of books, the ones that would start ringing alarm bells… I used one of my sticks, which bounced off her nose and caused her to paw the ground again. “Stupid cow!” thought I. “She doesn’t respond to my yells! I’m going to have to get more clods!”
I threw my last stick with a yell, and she put down her head and charged me. I remember being really surprised, then turning tail and running as fast as I could, which was hopelessly slow compared to her… I didn’t run long before I tripped over a clod and fell flat on the ground. I was expecting to be trampled by this monster, but God, thankfully, had other plans for me. He must have told her to leave me alone and to go where she was supposed to go, because she turned around, called her calf, and walked right out the gate without a fuss.
If Bill Watterson is correct about the behavior of cows when they are not being watched, these ones probably debated about the best way to get that fence down so they could get to the grass on the other side. One may presume that they got their biggest bull to come and lean on that already leaning fencepost until it was down low enough for them to step over it without hurting themselves. Ahhh! Freedom! They moved on thru the meadow until they came to a cultivated hay field, where they began to enjoy themselves. This was even better food than usual!
Someone from our house looked out across the field and saw a large band of Hereford cattle spreading out across it, having a good lunch. Once we identified where they came from, Dad and Mom rallied the kids and got us to herd them out of the field through the gate, out the driveway, and back up the road toward the Dufresne farm. When the cows learned that the gig was up, most of them co-operated with us and started following the desired path. But one cow and her calf lagged behind; she was more interested in grazing than moving. By the time she looked up the rest of the cows had gone through the gate and were marching along the driveway. She ran to catch up, but in doing so she missed the gate and ran further down the field with her calf. Seeing a fence between her and her friends, she did what she had been doing before; she stopped to graze. There is one in every crowd…
“Jamie, run down into that end of the field and herd her back out of there. We will set guards along the way that she came to keep her from going back that way.”
“Ok!” And off I ran, taking the long way so as to get on the other side of her.
I had been on the farm about a year by this time, but I was still quite uneducated in the ways of cows, especially ones with calves. I had not observed that look a cow gets in her eye when somebody or something threatens her calf, and I didn’t observe it this time either. I had herded our docile bunch of milk cows before, but this was my first experience with a beef cow.
I armed myself with clods of dirt and a couple sticks to throw at her, so as to frighten her into the right direction, and I headed out into the field, which was probably 150 yards across at that point. She was out in the middle, and I approached her till she was probably 30 feet away. I hollered at her to move, but she just stood there looking at me.
That was why I brought along the clods, as a secondary means of persuasion. I threw one at her, and it hit her on the shoulder. Her nostrils flared, and she looked hard at me, then pawed the ground. I threw another clod; same results, a low moo and a belligerent pawing of the ground.
I had never seen this sort of thing before, and I had obviously not read any of the right sort of books, the ones that would start ringing alarm bells… I used one of my sticks, which bounced off her nose and caused her to paw the ground again. “Stupid cow!” thought I. “She doesn’t respond to my yells! I’m going to have to get more clods!”
I threw my last stick with a yell, and she put down her head and charged me. I remember being really surprised, then turning tail and running as fast as I could, which was hopelessly slow compared to her… I didn’t run long before I tripped over a clod and fell flat on the ground. I was expecting to be trampled by this monster, but God, thankfully, had other plans for me. He must have told her to leave me alone and to go where she was supposed to go, because she turned around, called her calf, and walked right out the gate without a fuss.
Thursday, August 05, 2010
Childhood Stories - Corn and Beans
Saturdays held the family rituals that I remember from when I was small, most of them are food-related. Mom would bake bread that day. I remember helping her punch down the dough, and the wonderful smell of the finished product coming out of the oven. I think she made cinnamon rolls, too, but I may be just wishing… Saturday night supper consisted of corn and beans and bread. Mom did deep brown beans in a slow cooker that day, with molasses in them, and were they ever good!
When I was in Bible college I went on a music tour with one of the teams PRBI would send out, and we would billet at peoples houses. I walked into one such house and was immediately transported back to my five year old days; the beans smelled just right, just like mom’s recipe! MMMM!
And I have always liked the colors yellow and brown together; it creates some sort of deep-seated, Saturday night satisfaction in my soul... I would eat my yellow smarties last, forget that song about the red ones…
We were allowed to have a cup of tea on Saturday night (but not too much, it might stunt your growth!), and we would watch Hockey Night In Canada. The girls always cheered for Montreal, and the boys always cheered for Boston. We usually ended up with four angry boys and two happy girls…
When I was in Bible college I went on a music tour with one of the teams PRBI would send out, and we would billet at peoples houses. I walked into one such house and was immediately transported back to my five year old days; the beans smelled just right, just like mom’s recipe! MMMM!
And I have always liked the colors yellow and brown together; it creates some sort of deep-seated, Saturday night satisfaction in my soul... I would eat my yellow smarties last, forget that song about the red ones…
We were allowed to have a cup of tea on Saturday night (but not too much, it might stunt your growth!), and we would watch Hockey Night In Canada. The girls always cheered for Montreal, and the boys always cheered for Boston. We usually ended up with four angry boys and two happy girls…
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Childhood Stories - My Mother
My mother passed away when I was nine years old, after a long illness which kept her in the hospital for three years. I have seen pictures of her from when I was a toddler, and she never looked well. I suspect that life weighed heavily on her; bearing and raising six children took it’s toll on her frail frame, and when financial difficulties arose they cast black clouds of uncertainty on an already uncertain endeavour.
She was not very stable physically when I was a child. One day when I was four we stepped out the side door of the house into the garage, presumably to get some potatoes for supper. The landing outside the door was about eight steps higher than the concrete floor of the garage, and it had a wrought-iron railing attached. My safety-conscious mom was leaning on this railing as we descended the stairs, as was I. The railing gave way suddenly, and both of us tumbled headlong onto the garage floor from a few feet up. Mom lit, I am told, on a garbage can full of potatoes; I lit on my head on the floor and cracked my skull. I remember having a terrible headache, sitting in bed and waiting for dad to come home, since mom couldn‘t drive. When he arrived, he took me into town to the hospital to get me checked out, and I had to stay in the hospital for a couple days.
My mother trusted in Jesus, and I am sure she must have taught us kids to do so as well. But I think her life was still a fearful place to her. Never having learned how to drive, she often left dad in a bind, needing another driver and having none. I remember an incident when dad had loaned a tractor to a neighbor a couple miles from home, and it was time to pick it up. Little kids could not be left at home alone, or perhaps dad knew we would need to offer moral support, so several of us got in the van and drove to the neighbor’s farm.
“But how will we get home?” mom asked dad.
“You are going to drive home.” said he. “I have to drive the tractor.”
Much protesting ensued, but dad won out. I remember his instructions to her, to keep both hands on the steering wheel, and to drive right down the middle of the gravel road, to watch for traffic on the two corners she would have to make. I remember that Dad drove the tractor ahead of us and we followed, with mom’s white knuckles gripping the wheel like it was some wild thing…
She was not very stable physically when I was a child. One day when I was four we stepped out the side door of the house into the garage, presumably to get some potatoes for supper. The landing outside the door was about eight steps higher than the concrete floor of the garage, and it had a wrought-iron railing attached. My safety-conscious mom was leaning on this railing as we descended the stairs, as was I. The railing gave way suddenly, and both of us tumbled headlong onto the garage floor from a few feet up. Mom lit, I am told, on a garbage can full of potatoes; I lit on my head on the floor and cracked my skull. I remember having a terrible headache, sitting in bed and waiting for dad to come home, since mom couldn‘t drive. When he arrived, he took me into town to the hospital to get me checked out, and I had to stay in the hospital for a couple days.
My mother trusted in Jesus, and I am sure she must have taught us kids to do so as well. But I think her life was still a fearful place to her. Never having learned how to drive, she often left dad in a bind, needing another driver and having none. I remember an incident when dad had loaned a tractor to a neighbor a couple miles from home, and it was time to pick it up. Little kids could not be left at home alone, or perhaps dad knew we would need to offer moral support, so several of us got in the van and drove to the neighbor’s farm.
“But how will we get home?” mom asked dad.
“You are going to drive home.” said he. “I have to drive the tractor.”
Much protesting ensued, but dad won out. I remember his instructions to her, to keep both hands on the steering wheel, and to drive right down the middle of the gravel road, to watch for traffic on the two corners she would have to make. I remember that Dad drove the tractor ahead of us and we followed, with mom’s white knuckles gripping the wheel like it was some wild thing…
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Help with making Psalm sheet music
Greetings to you all, my friends!
I am undertaking a project which I hope will be of benefit to the church, and I am asking for your help in it.
Many of you have asked for sheet music for this or that song or psalm of mine, and I am pleased to inform you that such sheets are now being created for my psalms. The first four offerings can be downloaded from www.christcovenant.ca , so that you can see what they are like.
If songs are being used for the worship of God by the Church, should the artist collect royalties on them? Should he be able to say “No, you can not use these word-for-word psalms in your church until you pay me for them.”? Well, perhaps not in such crass terms, but…
I would like to post these songs for download, free of charge, anybody can use them. But they do cost money to produce; thus I am asking you if you would like to help finance the making of these psalm versions. It right now costs me roughly $150 per song to get a finished copy in my hands. If several of you would decide to finance a song, or several songs, or part of a song, it would greatly relieve the burden of creating them.
I look forward to the day when the church again desires to sing the psalms, these songs of Jesus (Heb. 10:5-7), and have been writing these in hopes that they will make it easier for the church to do so.
If you would like to help, please send me a note and I will let you know the ways in which you can help.
Blessings!
Jamie Soles
www.solmusic.ca
http://jamiesoles.blogspot.com/
780 539-3227
I am undertaking a project which I hope will be of benefit to the church, and I am asking for your help in it.
Many of you have asked for sheet music for this or that song or psalm of mine, and I am pleased to inform you that such sheets are now being created for my psalms. The first four offerings can be downloaded from www.christcovenant.ca , so that you can see what they are like.
If songs are being used for the worship of God by the Church, should the artist collect royalties on them? Should he be able to say “No, you can not use these word-for-word psalms in your church until you pay me for them.”? Well, perhaps not in such crass terms, but…
I would like to post these songs for download, free of charge, anybody can use them. But they do cost money to produce; thus I am asking you if you would like to help finance the making of these psalm versions. It right now costs me roughly $150 per song to get a finished copy in my hands. If several of you would decide to finance a song, or several songs, or part of a song, it would greatly relieve the burden of creating them.
I look forward to the day when the church again desires to sing the psalms, these songs of Jesus (Heb. 10:5-7), and have been writing these in hopes that they will make it easier for the church to do so.
If you would like to help, please send me a note and I will let you know the ways in which you can help.
Blessings!
Jamie Soles
www.solmusic.ca
http://jamiesoles.blogspot.com/
780 539-3227
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