Shhhhhhhh

Ang turned 30 today.

P.S. Maddie turned 8. They both share the same birthday. Different years though.

Underwear, Ritalin and Weyburn

Well I'm back. I know, whoopdee whoop, right? Still. I thought I'd announce my presence anyways. To be honest, I missed blog world. When you're used to being connected and then you're not, you feel out of the loop, almost naked. (Shoot my blog rating just shot up to a 14a)

Anywho, after reading my wife's posts last night I think Go2theJohn was in excellant hands. Better hands. I haven't laughed that hard since I realized its interac not interact.

"10 years of sounding like a moron. Priceless. For everything else there's common sense."

My week was great. I served alongside a dozen teens as we directed 18, 10-12yr olds at Clearview Christian Camp. As I've said, I grew up attending that camp. . .watching Brian Cox get all the girls and Stewart McMillan win all the box hockey tournaments. I was never envious of them, camp to me was all about Jesus. Ahem. (Awkward pause) The week went great although I had forgotten how dirty camp can get. When I left for camp I felt peaceful knowing my underwear figure was high yet not unreasonably high. By Wednesday all my underwear was gone, vanished it seemed, and I was forced to recycle. Recycling underwear is a complex process which involves waving goobye to your pride while turning your briefs inside out making you believe you're briefs are fresh even though they are just inverted. By Friday the process gets even more complicated as you attempt life without any und. . .

I love camp.

Another cool thing about camp is the fact that the showers are dirtier then not showering. Especially at Clearview. Gotta love the 6 inches of mildewed kiss your feet goobye water you must canoe through just to get to the stall. Then once you get in the shower you are forced to decide whether or not the furry soap is worth the wash because naturally you forgot yours back at the cabin and to go back would involve getting redressed, wading back to dry ground, retrieving the soap then wading, undressing and gees, why even bother. So, I didn't bother all that much. (Matt 7:1-6)

The other neat thing about camp is the unique kids you get to meet. One kid we met looked like the kin of Norman Rockwell but his parents introduced him as "This is Tyson, and this is Tyson's Ritalin." It took a whole 3 days for a kid to smash open Tyson's head on a cabin. That being said I loved the little guy and tried to spend as much time as possible repeating "you're a good kid buddy, no worries." And I meant it. . . Sometimes I think Ritalin is society's way of taming great people which is a shame because it seems to me that all the great men and women of history have been abnormal, eccentric, odd, and had way too much energy and thoughts for their own good. I'm glad Ritalin is only a recent invention.

Another cool thing about my trip was my pilgrimage back to Weyburn. I lived there for 12 years and hadn't really been back there since I left 18 yrs ago so I drug (not in the Ritalin sense) my teens along to my old elementary school, church, candy store and other favorite spots. All the girls were like "aww, this is so neat." The boys called me a girl and said they'd meet up with us in Carlyle.

Another neat thing was chatting with Hub (Mark Husband) - my old high school teacher - for an hr one night, getting caught up as well as apologizing once again for torturing him all those years ago. Speaking of Ritalin. . .

The last thing worth mentioning was getting to see my good pal Blair Roberts on Saturday for breakfast. Blair is the man. Pure and simple. Love that guy.

As great as the trip was its always even better to arrive home to the wife of the century and kids who remind you that you are king of the world.

I love my life.

John

mmm...coffee

It's rewarding when your kids keep you in check every once in a while. We were in Starbucks today to quickly pick up a pound of much needed coffee when Maddie looked at me and said, "It's fair trade, right Mom?" to which I responded, "No, but it is bold and aromatic....." I then explained to her that yes, normally we buy fair trade coffee, but I couldn't find any today and you know how mommy gets when she doesn't have her coffee. You yourself have walked with me in those dismal hours, please don't question my values now!!! It would make for a much better story if we briskly left Starbucks, noses held high and drove across town to hunt for other fair trade coffee, and in so doing, inspired millions to take a stand against slave labour and unfair wages, but.... I paid my $15 and went home to drink a nice hot cup of.......
*Free tip for when you feel like a cozy piece of heaven in a mug (or disposable paper cup, but not my point): double tall, half sweet white chocolate whipped mocha. John won't order it for me because it's too "embarrassing"- but, believe me, totally worth every I'm a pretentious yuppie thought that runs through your mind.
Oh yeah- my point, and I did have one, was how cool it is to see your values reflected in your kids. We parents try, but inconsistancies pop up every once in a blue moon (or every time you can see the moon, but whose counting?). The things that are important to us will have a huge impact on what's important to them, both positively and negatively.
In conclusion, let's meditate on blah, blah, blah and don't forget we need some strong men to put away the tables after potluck.... sorry I just realized I was basically giving a sermon. Won't happen again. Today, anyway.
Ang

chic sheep

I somehow got roped into taking a consumer survey that ate up a good chunk of my lifetime in a mind- numbingly boring sort of way (Have you read a magazine in the past 6 months? How many times? Which ones? What is the average time spent reading each magazine? Have you consumed pasta in the last 6 months.....AAGGHH! How do I know!) Anyway, one thing that did capture my attention was how easily played we are by advertising. Some of the questions were on a scale of 1- 10. How important is it that I out-do and impress my neighbours with my possessions (you mean our second hand, fake wood, wal-mart and whatever's on clearance at Ikea furniture? We try to be humble, but I can't help it if people are jealous.) How important it is that people admire the things I own? Do I feel more confidant when wearing new clothes and is it essential they are brand name? Does it influence my purchase if marketed by a celebrity? Does my confidence tie directly in to the things I own? Do I reward myself with purchases? I felt embarrassed for the masses and also for myself. I'm not a stylish gal, but I don't want to be unstylish or frumpy, either (except for right now. I'm wearing mismatched pjs and my hair is in nest mode, but I'm just sayin- usually). And I enjoy putting some time, effort and $ into our home. Where's the balance between taking care of your things and your appearance vs being a consumer sheep, spending where you're told to spend on what you're told is "in". I mean, who's the ultimate decider on what's fashionable, anyway? And what's the point if it's all just to be viewed in a certain way- where's the integrity in that? In protest, I'm going to wear something totally out of fashion today- bring out the high waisted jeans and tucked in turtle neck with matching socks! And throw in some loafers for good measure! Actually, I don't own those things- shoot. Maybe I'll just go out with nest hair. Maybe.
Or not.
At least I got $25 for doing the survey- that's cool.
Ang

introducing Hugo

Blog readers, Hugo.
Hugo, blog readers.

no John

Yeah, so John's gone for a week. I would like to say "while the cat is away......", but that would be a fairly inaccurate representation of the kind of girl that I am. Really the only plus to single momming it for 7 days is that I will likely not be watching movies about a man that looks like a Ken doll and also saves the world, all the while being tough and charming and spouting witty one liners. SPOILER: in the end he gets the girl. I can do without that. But it's the going to bed alone thing that's the real kicker. Everything's dark and quiet and a little bit spooky. Plus, I can only handle so many evenings of Gilmore Girls by myself, as I'm pretty much house bound after 7:00pm. It's also handy to have John around for things like, say...catching mice. Our usually sweet cat decided to bring me a gift this morning. And by gift I mean half dead mouse. He brought it into the entry way and I stood there helpless and screaming (in an I've got it together, independant woman sort of way) until he sadly turned around and took it back outside. Thanks for the excitement, Rusty. Ignore me as I clean up tiny intestines off my floor. I am relieved to say that the kids are light years ahead of me in the bravery department. "So, Mom, why did you scream? We thought there was a bad guy or something." "Can we tell Dad about the screaming?(snicker)" Tomorrow we get to meet our puppy, so I'm thinking that'll be a more positive and productive kind of excitement. We've been wanting a dog for eons, so we're just counting down the days! We're hoping for less carcass-type presents and more playing fetch. We'll see.
Ang

Kenosee Karma

So. . .in about 10 minutes I will be jumping in a van with 6 teenagers and heading to Clearview Christian Camp (Kenosee) to direct the grade 5+6 week. For those of you who don't know. . .I grew up in Saskatchewan, lived there for 12 years but more then that I grew up attending Clearview. Its wierd to think that I am now leading a camp I grew up terrorizing. Perhaps Karma is alive and well. .

Enjoy the week, and please take care of my family while I'm gone.

John

P.S. By the way, if you're in the area, drop by the camp next week, I'll have my speedos on, I mean coffee.

Adrian

Whooo Hooo!!! Mr. Stallone is back in Rocky 6 coming to theatres this holiday season!! He's 59 now but as you can see his pecks haven't aged a bit.

John

P.S. I just realized how gay this post sounded. Oh well, I'm stoked none the less.

Stan Bell

For those of you who don't know, Stan Bell, father of Monica , Stephen and Melissa, is in critical condition battling the Flesh Eating disease of all things. Originally there was little hope and much fear but it seems, for now anyways, that hope is beginning to ever so slightly show itself. The latest update, 2hrs ago, was surgery was successful but with this kind of infection things can go from bad to worse in no time so it will be a few days before we know any real outcome.

Please go to Stephen's Blog to follow the daily updates.

But above all, please pray like you never have before. This disease is one of the worst.

John

Said Picture

Here's the picture Ang promised from the "good company" post.

Authentic Asian Wear.

By Shannon (works best if you do the By Mennen jingle)

By Jason (once again, Mennen Jingle)

Phantom

I just had the best night with Maddison. Phantom was in town and we managed to get tickets like 2 days ago and here it is now 11:37pm and we're still enthralled. That was Maddie's word not mine. Just kidding. As if. She's 7.

Bottom Line: Best night ever.

P.S. Why didn't you take Ang, John, she's your wife man, your wife. She went to the 2pm show with a lady from our church ok. Ye not judge thus.
Oh and yes, that's a suit. No, its not rented.

good company

Jason and Shannon came for a visit last night, which is always fantastic. What's even more fantastic is when they come bearing gifts from far away lands. I have a picture of the kids modeling said gifts, but have absolutely no idea how to post it. Honestly, the fact that I can log on to the computer at all is quite extraordinary. Some of you may notice that we now have what I like to call a "link list". Oh yeah, we've got it all. Of course after a good hour of my tears, frustration and no progress, John took over and had it all up and running in no time. Mr. "I'm So Clever With My Sermon Making, Joke Telling, Link Listing Self".
You can call him John.
He's cute, too. But you still have to call him John.
OK. You can call him Cute John. Or CJ for short. Of course if you want something a little more manly, you can go with He Who Links. But then the identity isn't as certain, so John the Lister of Links can also work well. Sorry, my fingers keep typing- I have no control.
Anyway, it was great to see Jason and Shannon, as always, and talk about everything from movies to ministry to m....mousing (actually it was housing, but I thought a little alliteration might help you to remember the topics we covered). Oh, we also had a curious discussion about dreams, which I'm sure you will agree, is in the best interest of this particular blog to refer to as "meams".
What's weird is when you meam about mouses.
Ang

Poor Hope

Jesus once said "you will always have the poor with you." Many Christian have taken this verse as medication to try and eliminate their pangs of guilt for neglecting "the least of these." Oh well, the poor will always be with us so there's no point in doing anything to help them. I can pretty much guarantee that was not the point Jesus was trying to make (see Matt 25, Luke 4:18 among others) Now I am a minister so I can say this: It is embarassing how little the church has done to bring hope to the poor. Some say the church has dropped the ball. I say you can't drop what you haven't picked up. There are a zillion excuses, I mean REASONS, why the church has largely ignored the poor but in the end none of them will matter. All that will matter is did YOU bring hope to the least of these. Did you reach out and love. . . Did I? Now I know there are churches who have picked up the ball and running with it in profound ways but I'm guessing they aren't the ones who need to read this. The same goes with some of you. You are the people who have prevented despair from taking over. Thank you for your incredible examples. I think of Ray and Ellen McMillan and pray that I can have even half their heart.

Whenever I talk with people about poverty most of them say something to the effect of"There are 30,000 people dying every day of starvation, what on earth can I do about it." Despair has always been the enemy of hope. As followers of Jesus, we are called to bring hope. If we don't bring it, who will? We must bring it. We must act.

The truth is, the only way we will ever have a shot of eliminating extreme poverty is if we can convince the powerful leaders of our world to act. Next week, our Prime Minister Stephen Harper will be attending a meeting of the world's G-8 leaders. They will be discussing many things including energy, disease and other things that affect them. What probably won't get much air time is what to do about Africa or the other countries that are starving to death.

Take 5 minutes out of your day today and write a letter to Mr. Harper encouraging him to take action. Write then pray. Hope. Then pray again. Despair is the luxury of those who do not know Christ, but to those of us who do know, despair is the Anti Christ.

Faith, Hope, Love.

John

My Friend Tyler

So I have this buddy named Tyler, otherwise known as Ty or "t." We play soccer together, we do ministry together, heck we even promote Fair Trade together. But we don't blog. . . together. He says he has nothing to say. Says he doesn't write good. Well Tyler. You don't write well.

Anyways, he'd like to believe he doesn't belong in Blog land but I know for a fact he spends time there every day. He reads, he comments but doesn't play. Doesn't stay. Doesn't blog his way. Seems to me we got a blog groupie on our hands. Ty, I say its time you got in the game. No more groupiness. It's frowned upon in Blog land. Its time you started your own blog. Cmon man, we can call it "go2thefriendofjohn." It'll be great.



John

My Birthday!!

Yesterday Alexa and her friends Bobby, Hunter and Cameron celebrated their 4th birthdays. "My favourite part was when I went in the swimming pool except for when I shrank. We had hotdogs and I drinked orange juice."- Alexa

parade day

I am thoroughly disappointed in myself. Here we are watching the Stampede parade- on TV! TV, I tell you! Just so you know- not even remotely the same. No claustrophobic c-train experience, no gobs of sunscreen, no loud, ornary housewife proclaiming that "um, hello? excuse me! Maam! These seats are saved! Thank you!" (plastic smile). But also, no excited kids bouncing out of bed at 6:00 am, no packed lunch and Starbucks, no tingly spine from the bagpipes (good kind of tingle), no making fun of band uniforms and no getting caught up in Stampede fever. It's all very sad, really. Let this be my lesson- life is too short to miss out on the fun stuff.
Parade's still on and kids are tearing the living room apart in boredom- sniff.
Ang

labels

John likes to bug me (it's true) about, well, many things. He says my personality can be somewhat of a paradox at times, but I think, whose isn't? I've never liked taking those tests that label you as a letter combination or tell you what your spiritual gift is. They may be accurate about one or two things, but the rest, it seems, is vaguely applicable at best. Yes, I'm slightly creative, but I'm not driven. Should I be driven? Maybe I am deep down and don't even know it! Crap, I don't even like driven people (just kidding, I love all of God's creatures). No one fits into anyone else's mold, and yet we have all felt the sting of being labeled, and I know I am guilty of labeling others. I'm sure some people have pre-existing ideas of what I'm about:
minister's wife- conservative
quiet- opinionless
stay at home mom- old fashioned
homeschooler- backwards
Christian- global warming denier
I'm proud to say that I do not fit the above mold, but ashamed that I would be the first to cast it on someone else of the same description. And there's alot more judgement where that came from. I have a whole arsenal of labels I use in my weaker moments: yuppie, poser, needy, slacker, shallow, narrow, a teensy bit stupid (kidding again. sort of.)......the list goes on. Aside from the sheer arrogance of putting myself in the postion of labeler, I also realize it's a very narrow view- people are complex and can not be limited to one title. I guesse that's the beauty of surrounding yourself with friends of all backgrounds and lifestyles- it's not so easy to be close minded.
OK, maybe I'm not so quick to label as I once was, but I can be a little preachy- don't judge.
Ang

Parents

So. . . my parents were in town this past week. 8 days actually. My poor dadio was sick for half of it and the other half my mom was embarassing me. Let me explain. About my mom I mean. My dad's sickness is none of your business - thank you very much.

My mom has had many great jobs in her life - dorm director, secretary at a Radio station, secretary at WCC, church counselor, teacher and most recently she was hired as David Olshine's go to girl. David Olshine is a big wig youth guy in the states. Speaks at all the Youth Specialities events. Yeah, I know. I'm proud of ol mom too. As proud as I am there is one job, one role she plays that continues to cause me ubridled embarassment. That being the role of cheerleader.

Ever since I can remember my mom has been my biggest cheerleader. She has managed to steer clear of spandax and pom poms - atta girl mom - but she hasn't managed to refrain from loud crazy awkward cheers that causes everyone within a square mile to exclaim "what the, who is that." She means well, my mom. She loves her son. I get that. I want that. But with less noise.

I can remember playing bball in high school, heck even in college (Timmy - you probably remember this) and as I'd be gliding down the court or soaring in the air, at least I was in my mind, I'd all of a sudden hear "Yay John, go John George, go. Whoo" Now, I don't know about you but its never easy acting like you can't hear someone when your name is being chanted loud and clear in front of 352 people. And the chanter is your mother. So usually I'd sorta, nodd or wink or quickly wave as if to plead "stop stop, for the love of God please stop" but she'd invariably take the slight recognition as my way of saying "please continue, I love it." And so she did.

Now that was a lifetime ago, a decade at least, and one might think I should be over such things.
Well, I was, I thought had accepted that my mom loves me enthusiatically and simply didn't know how to contain her feelings in public. I was at peace with it. Me and the inner child were finally doing a ok. Now lets fast forward 10 years. To last week.

My mom decided to accompany me to my soccer game. Now remember, I am now 29, married, got 35 kids (see Wyatt's world) and well, I'm as adult as I've ever been. As we arrived at the U of C the thought entered my mind - "I wonder if mom still cheer leads. Surely not. " And then I got an idea, "I'll turn the tables on her. Repay her cheers for some of my own." So I vowed, if I scored I would cheer up a storm. Make her feel my pain. 10 minutes into the game the ball squirted onto my foot and the next thing I knew - BOOM it was in the net. The next few minutes were characterized by me running around the field, similar to Zidane or Ronaldo - except they probably weren't shouting "That was for you mommy. I love you" (yes indeed I said mommy, went for the full child hood descriptor). I probably screamed that half a dozen times, increasing in volume each time. I also hopped and even half took off my shirt exposing my third. . . Anyways my celebration ended with a high five and a sweaty hug. When my cheering ended I waltzed back on the field convinced I had made my point. She was now the object of cheers. She was now asking "Why dear God why?" I had my revenge.

After the game, Ang, the witty sarcastic one from the blogs, came up to me gave me a little hug which I thought was you know, pretty impressive cause truly I stank. It turned out intimacy wasn't what she was after but rather my head as she proceeded to inform me that apparently after "my little escapade" my mom had come alive and resumed her cheering in ways louder then ever before. Because the field was big and the sky provided terrible acoustics I hadn't heard a thing. But Angie assured me that it was ok because she had heard every word and would be more then happy to never share a bed with me again.

As I reflect on my moms cheering ways - I have come to realize that my mom's cheers, as animated as they are, are just her way of shouting to the world that she loves and is proud of her son. And I guess when I reflect on the real reason I cheered for her at soccer its because I feel the exact same way about her. And as embarassing as her cheers can be, I'm sure many a son would give their right leg to have someone, anyone, especially a parent to love them that much.

So it is with a great sigh, and a roll of the eye that I conclude this post by saying:

I love you mom. Cheer on!

John George

P.S. Hope you're feeling better dad.

Pronger Pt. 2

Well, its over. Pronger was traded today to the Ducks for Lupul, who is great, and 3 other guys only known by their mother and Vanessa what's her name from "that" chat room. Most of you probably don't give a rip but its my blog so shove it. And while you're here you might as well listen to my rant.

Why would a guy only 1 goal away from winning the Cup and the MVP ask to be traded? Calgarians will tell you its because the city of Edmonton is ugly and its mother dresses it funny but their just miffed because their team is still 4 cups away. Others will tell you its because Pronger went for coffee with a reporter and the next day she turned up pregnant, but I think that's a stretch. Others will tell tales of money, power and no Bloomingdales but the logical explanation to me is Pronger's wife didn't like her situation and when the wife ain't happy, life for the husband. . . well. . . isn't great.

So, here I sit, miffed yet hopeful that the Oilers can once again make something good out of something sucky. . .


Jdog

Why we fight

Angie and I just finished watching one of the most eye opening documentaries since sliced bread. The "sliced bread" analogy doesn't always work. I have no idea what your opinion of war is but I tend to think its a luxury of the powerful. War sucks, and those who get involved often end up becoming suckers. (see Vietnam, Kuwait, Jerry Springer) I also have no idea what your opinon of "The war in Iraq" is but I tend to think its not about quelling terror or extending freedom as reported daily by Chicken Noodle News (CNN)

To be honest, I pulled a Moses 3 years ago and tried to give a Bush the benefit of the doubt. Truly I did. It did seem odd at the time though, Bush blaming Iraq for 911, but then again I was just as upset as everyone else and somebody had to pay, right? Also, Bush seemed to value some good things - freedom, justice, baseball. He also seemed to look down on murder, bloodshed, terror, which you know, so did I. So, I called him one night and said, "ok GW, lets do it. Lets bomb those devils." To which he replied "Snicker. Snort. When I owned the Texas Rangers I sometimes would wander into the lockeroom after a game and all dem players would be stark necked." Snort. Snicker.

Well, here we are, 3 years later, and we're still in Iraq, markets are still being blown up, big bad weapons are still not found and well, not much has really changed it seems. Sadam's out. Bush is in. Yet people are still dying. Have we spread freedom, or corpses?

Call me Jaded, call me Michael Moore's secret admirer, call me collect, but I just didn't have a good feeling about the War on Terror as I sat down with my coffee tonight to watch a documentary on this very subject called "Why we fight" along with my wife Angie who often spends the evening with me because we're married and that's the law." (John man, we really could have used a comma in the second part!" - Words in last sentence)

Now I'll be honest, I've seen Moore's stuff and the man gots skillz for making people look retarded, including himself, but in spite of his obvious agenda inevitably I would always still manage to get worked up to the point where I would be renouncing my dual citizenship and claiming the U.S. really stood for Under Satan. Don't worry though, I don't really think that. I was just upset at the time. Like you never get upset.

Anyways I've rambled on enough but I'm happy to say that Why we Fight blew me away. Blew Angie away too. As we watched, I couldn't help but be drawn in because it wasn't as concerned with proving a point as it was with just simply reporting. Both sides were represented, and although some interviewees were obviously jaded, in the end I felt as though I had seen one of the most balanced presentations on the U.S. and its motives for war that I think I'll ever see.

The U.S. promised IRAQ shock and awe. I promise you the same.

Enjoy,

John (and Ang, who didn't write this but happily agrees with my sentiments, unlike a previous post, which I though was Super :))

Superman- the other side

I have a different take on Superman, although perhaps not quite as strong as my brother (hi Jord!), I do agree that there is a certain degree of commercializing Jesus going on that I find offensive. Are we seriously comparing Superman to Jesus? Do we really need this analogy to understand his sacrifice and our need of it (oh- now I get it! Jesus was tortured and crucified just like Superman was beat up by Lex Luther and stabbed with cryptonite! It's all clear now!). OR is Hollywood cluing in to a major money maker, realizing that by throwing in a few symbolic cliches, every church in North America will start promoting the movie for them by: showing clips as sermon illustrations, writing books (ie: "10 Ways that Superman is Like Jesus") or there's always the Wednesday night series ( It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a Bible study!) I do understand that many people find religous symbolism in movies very powerful and don't take it to the above extremes (John is one of them- kisses). I just think that sometimes there's a bandwagon mentality within our faith that has the potential for the ridiculous. Maybe. Actually I'm being offensive, so nevermind.
In other news, the movie is really fun. With or without the analogies.
Ang