Oh. My. Goodness.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Scientology Documentary
You've probably heard about the secret Tom Cruise Scientology videos that have been leaked all over the internet. They've caused such an uproar that the Church of Scientology is threatening lawsuits to any person who posts the videos. Being a lowly youth minister I will not tempt fate so you'll have to google them yourself. Angie and I watched them this morning and - OH MY.
Anyways, if you're like us, you probably know very little about Scientology or its founder L Ron Hubbard. Angie and I found this documentary online and just watched it. It's disturbingly good.
John
Anyways, if you're like us, you probably know very little about Scientology or its founder L Ron Hubbard. Angie and I found this documentary online and just watched it. It's disturbingly good.
John
Friday, January 18, 2008
Saturday, January 12, 2008
They are right
I never saw the movie What's Up Chuck, but it's ok, because now I know. It's what my wife did last night, Maddie 2 nights before that and Ethan 2 before that. Only Lex and I have stayed gag free, although in saying that I may have just jinxed things. Hopefully not because tomorrow's a packed day for me and ralphing on the parishioners is not as classy as it sounds.
They say you don't know what you've got till it's gone. It's so true and if They were here I'd pat them on the kaboose and say "good call sailor, you can ride coach with me anytime."
Today, Angie's been "gone" so to speak and I really haven't known what to do. Ususally she does that and that and that.
For instance, she's Ms. Chipper - she waltzes around our house flashing her smile whilst bringing joy to the tator tots. I am not Ms. Chipper. I'm not even Mr. Chipper. I like chips. That's it. She also knows how to make hot chocolate. A dash of this and a dash of that and presto - winter becomes merry. The kids wanted some of that winter magic today and all I could do is heat up some water and offer them tea. Then there's the dishes, they pile up so quick. . .and the laundry, gees we wear lots of stuff and here's the worst part - its playoff time in the NFL and guess how much I've been able to watch - exactly. One quarter. The point is, I miss my wife (so far for all the wrong reasons but if I listed the right ones you'd all think I was corny. . .or gross, right? Right? Right?)
Time to get better babes, the family needs you.
John
P.S. Right?
They say you don't know what you've got till it's gone. It's so true and if They were here I'd pat them on the kaboose and say "good call sailor, you can ride coach with me anytime."
Today, Angie's been "gone" so to speak and I really haven't known what to do. Ususally she does that and that and that.
For instance, she's Ms. Chipper - she waltzes around our house flashing her smile whilst bringing joy to the tator tots. I am not Ms. Chipper. I'm not even Mr. Chipper. I like chips. That's it. She also knows how to make hot chocolate. A dash of this and a dash of that and presto - winter becomes merry. The kids wanted some of that winter magic today and all I could do is heat up some water and offer them tea. Then there's the dishes, they pile up so quick. . .and the laundry, gees we wear lots of stuff and here's the worst part - its playoff time in the NFL and guess how much I've been able to watch - exactly. One quarter. The point is, I miss my wife (so far for all the wrong reasons but if I listed the right ones you'd all think I was corny. . .or gross, right? Right? Right?)
Time to get better babes, the family needs you.
John
P.S. Right?
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Friday, January 04, 2008
Once
Every Once in a while a movie comes along that towers above the rest. Tonight, Angie and I watched that movie . It was shot in 17 days on a shoestring budget with inexperienced actors -but we sat transfixed. It got to me, in a beautiful way and I think it will get to you too. The music is incredible, deeply personal and raw. Here's the title song along with clips from the film.
John
John
Monday, December 31, 2007
21
Yesterday the Dallas Cowboys, my Dallas Cowboys, were soundly beaten by a Washington Redskins team playing for more than just a win against their fiercest rivals and a chance to play come January. They were playing for Sean. A fallen friend.
November 18th. Sean is not home when burglers break into his house doing damage to his desk and safe. The perps leave with nothing, unable to find what they were looking for. Sean's mother checks on his house in his absence discovering the breakin and calls the police. Meanwhile, Sean sits out his first game after sustaining a knee injury the week before. His Skins lose 28-23 to the first place Dallas Cowboys.
November 25. Sean sits out his second straight game watching his Skins fall yet again, this time to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. It's their third loss in a row.
November 26. 1:45 a.m. The perps come back to Sean's house, this time finding him at home. A melee insues and Sean is shot in the upper leg by one of the 4 armed teenage intruders. He is critically wounded in the femoral artery. His long-time girlfriend Jackie Garcia hides under the bedding throughout along with Sean's 18-month-old daughter. She calls 911. Sean is airlifted to the Ryder Trauma Center at Jackson Memorial Hospital in Miami, where he undergoes surgery. He emerges from surgery at 12:30 p.m. but remains unconscious, in a coma. Sean never wakes up, dying a few hours later as a result of the massive blood loss.
His team mates are devastated.
November 30. 4 young men are detained in connection with the murder of Sean Taylor. The youngest of the men is 17. Confessions are given.
December 1. All four men are charged with second-degree murder, armed burglary and home invasion with a firearm or another deadly weapon. The charges result in life sentences for each of the perpetrators.
December 2. Shaken by the loss of their team-mate and friend the Skins suffer their 4th loss in a row losing 17-16 to the lowly Buffalo Bills.
December 3. 4,000 people attend Sean's funeral service held at the Pharmed Arena at Florida International University. The entire Redskins organization attends the funeral taking up a section of the arena. Many of them are seen weaping throughout the emotional service. Sean's daughter sits in the front with her mother - wearing a pin with her father’s jersey number “21” on the sleeve of her dress. Sean is buried near his home. He is 24 at the time of his death.
December 7th. The Skins suit up to play last year's Super Bowl Finalists, the Chicago Bears. The Skins record sits at 5-7. A berth in the playoffs is the least of their concerns. As the Skins take the field they are greeted by 21's everwhere. It seems the 85,000+ fans aren't content to see their Skins throw in the towel. They've sown 21's everywhere, their clothes, their jerseys, their flags, everywhere. It's as if they're saying "do it for Sean." The Skins oblige defeating the Bears 24-16. They do not lose again.
The following weeks they dispose of the New York Giants and Minnesota Vikings 22-10, 32-21 respectively - spurned on by the Spirit of their fallen friend and faithful fans. By this time all the players have sown 21's into their Jersey's and afixed 21's to their helmets. The team now sits at 8-7 having won 3 games in a row. Talk of playoffs can now be heard.
December 30. Final game of the season. The Skins only hope is that Minnesota loses to the lowly Denver Bronco's. The other option is the Skins beating the Dallas Cowboys, but it's unlikely, considering the Boys tower above all in the NFC, sporting an impressive 13-2 record. The Skins take the field and are immediately overwhelmed by a record 90,000 fans all adorned with the number 21. Their coach, Joe Gibbs, having overcome tragedy himself, leads them on to the field. It isn't even close. The Cowboys are defeated soundly and are held to just 1 yard rushing. 1. yard. Even more remarkable, the Denver Broncos upset the Minnesota Vikings 22-19 securing the Skins a spot in the playoffs.
Joe Gibbs after the game. "To get to the playoffs was a dream of ours and four weeks ago everybody would have said it looked impossible. It was a great four weeks. It was guys just playing their hearts out. We couldn't have been prouder. The Lord has blessed us with a great group of guys. When you think about what they have gone through this year."
In the end, Washington showed us all the true meaning of having Skin in the game. They defeated my Cowboys 27-6 - winning for, and remarkably by, 21.
I didn't mind so much.
John
November 18th. Sean is not home when burglers break into his house doing damage to his desk and safe. The perps leave with nothing, unable to find what they were looking for. Sean's mother checks on his house in his absence discovering the breakin and calls the police. Meanwhile, Sean sits out his first game after sustaining a knee injury the week before. His Skins lose 28-23 to the first place Dallas Cowboys.
November 25. Sean sits out his second straight game watching his Skins fall yet again, this time to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. It's their third loss in a row.
November 26. 1:45 a.m. The perps come back to Sean's house, this time finding him at home. A melee insues and Sean is shot in the upper leg by one of the 4 armed teenage intruders. He is critically wounded in the femoral artery. His long-time girlfriend Jackie Garcia hides under the bedding throughout along with Sean's 18-month-old daughter. She calls 911. Sean is airlifted to the Ryder Trauma Center at Jackson Memorial Hospital in Miami, where he undergoes surgery. He emerges from surgery at 12:30 p.m. but remains unconscious, in a coma. Sean never wakes up, dying a few hours later as a result of the massive blood loss.
His team mates are devastated.
November 30. 4 young men are detained in connection with the murder of Sean Taylor. The youngest of the men is 17. Confessions are given.
December 1. All four men are charged with second-degree murder, armed burglary and home invasion with a firearm or another deadly weapon. The charges result in life sentences for each of the perpetrators.
December 2. Shaken by the loss of their team-mate and friend the Skins suffer their 4th loss in a row losing 17-16 to the lowly Buffalo Bills.
December 3. 4,000 people attend Sean's funeral service held at the Pharmed Arena at Florida International University. The entire Redskins organization attends the funeral taking up a section of the arena. Many of them are seen weaping throughout the emotional service. Sean's daughter sits in the front with her mother - wearing a pin with her father’s jersey number “21” on the sleeve of her dress. Sean is buried near his home. He is 24 at the time of his death.
December 7th. The Skins suit up to play last year's Super Bowl Finalists, the Chicago Bears. The Skins record sits at 5-7. A berth in the playoffs is the least of their concerns. As the Skins take the field they are greeted by 21's everwhere. It seems the 85,000+ fans aren't content to see their Skins throw in the towel. They've sown 21's everywhere, their clothes, their jerseys, their flags, everywhere. It's as if they're saying "do it for Sean." The Skins oblige defeating the Bears 24-16. They do not lose again.
The following weeks they dispose of the New York Giants and Minnesota Vikings 22-10, 32-21 respectively - spurned on by the Spirit of their fallen friend and faithful fans. By this time all the players have sown 21's into their Jersey's and afixed 21's to their helmets. The team now sits at 8-7 having won 3 games in a row. Talk of playoffs can now be heard.
December 30. Final game of the season. The Skins only hope is that Minnesota loses to the lowly Denver Bronco's. The other option is the Skins beating the Dallas Cowboys, but it's unlikely, considering the Boys tower above all in the NFC, sporting an impressive 13-2 record. The Skins take the field and are immediately overwhelmed by a record 90,000 fans all adorned with the number 21. Their coach, Joe Gibbs, having overcome tragedy himself, leads them on to the field. It isn't even close. The Cowboys are defeated soundly and are held to just 1 yard rushing. 1. yard. Even more remarkable, the Denver Broncos upset the Minnesota Vikings 22-19 securing the Skins a spot in the playoffs.
Joe Gibbs after the game. "To get to the playoffs was a dream of ours and four weeks ago everybody would have said it looked impossible. It was a great four weeks. It was guys just playing their hearts out. We couldn't have been prouder. The Lord has blessed us with a great group of guys. When you think about what they have gone through this year."
In the end, Washington showed us all the true meaning of having Skin in the game. They defeated my Cowboys 27-6 - winning for, and remarkably by, 21.
I didn't mind so much.
John
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Christmas Break
Sitting on my butt actually. And reading. A ton. And watching Canada win. A lot. And laughing every evening at The Best Yet Most Underated Television Show In The History Of Television. Arrested Development. Besides that. . .playing street hockey with Ethan, laughing with Lex at Elf then rewinding and laughing even harder. Completing the "Human Faces Art Book, Tips, Questions and More", written by Maddison Close. And last but not least - doing the papers for my wife which is incredibly sexy. ..apparently. All in all it's been a fantastic holiday. A real break. Just what I needed after a mammoth project.
Tonight we have great friends coming over for good food. Speaking of great friends, Jay and Shannon were here last Sunday and as always we had a delightful visit. I like the word delightful. It's pigtail cheery. Tomorrow, I'm headed across town to visit with a good buddy who's back from the South. Next week, Angie and I plan to see a couple movies, probably Atonement and Dewey Cox (guess who picked which movie, you have 3 seconds). I start back to work Jan 2 which is still far enough away that I don't have to shower or shave. Tyler Butel has promised to slot me in, once, which is good of him considering he's so important. There's also talk of some bball before the break ends. A last ditch effort to shed unwanted pounds. I remember a time when bball is all I was, now it's a 1 hr slot on a packed holiday schedule. I'd love to say I still got game but the last time I dunked was 11 years ago.
I said I've been reading a lot and I have. I'm not lying ok. Jeez. My habit has been non fiction in the day and fiction in the evening. During the day I've been absorbed in The Portable Athiest. There's just something about Christmas that brings out my heretical ness. All jokes aside, its been a very good read and I've learned a ton in areas previouly unexplored. Much of it is rants written from men fuming over the carnage religion has left in its path but every once in while someone like Mark Twain will stop me dead and I'll find myself mulling for several minutes - struck with an unplesant truth. Einstein has been provocative as has Darwin. He's not what most think he was. Darwin I mean. He's more. Anyways, my faith has felt fuller lately and I must give credit to this unlikely source. I would recommend it but I fear that may be going to far. For obvious reasons. So don't read it. . .I recommend that you don't read it.
Life is good in Close land. Thanks for stopping by. It makes us feel loved.
John
Tonight we have great friends coming over for good food. Speaking of great friends, Jay and Shannon were here last Sunday and as always we had a delightful visit. I like the word delightful. It's pigtail cheery. Tomorrow, I'm headed across town to visit with a good buddy who's back from the South. Next week, Angie and I plan to see a couple movies, probably Atonement and Dewey Cox (guess who picked which movie, you have 3 seconds). I start back to work Jan 2 which is still far enough away that I don't have to shower or shave. Tyler Butel has promised to slot me in, once, which is good of him considering he's so important. There's also talk of some bball before the break ends. A last ditch effort to shed unwanted pounds. I remember a time when bball is all I was, now it's a 1 hr slot on a packed holiday schedule. I'd love to say I still got game but the last time I dunked was 11 years ago.
I said I've been reading a lot and I have. I'm not lying ok. Jeez. My habit has been non fiction in the day and fiction in the evening. During the day I've been absorbed in The Portable Athiest. There's just something about Christmas that brings out my heretical ness. All jokes aside, its been a very good read and I've learned a ton in areas previouly unexplored. Much of it is rants written from men fuming over the carnage religion has left in its path but every once in while someone like Mark Twain will stop me dead and I'll find myself mulling for several minutes - struck with an unplesant truth. Einstein has been provocative as has Darwin. He's not what most think he was. Darwin I mean. He's more. Anyways, my faith has felt fuller lately and I must give credit to this unlikely source. I would recommend it but I fear that may be going to far. For obvious reasons. So don't read it. . .I recommend that you don't read it.
Life is good in Close land. Thanks for stopping by. It makes us feel loved.
John
Saturday, December 22, 2007
One crappy day part deux
I got into an accident yesterday. Just one day after all things Crappy, a 20yr old with a 2008 Nissan thought it would be prudent to turn in front of me while I drove the preacher's kid to the mall. I barely had time to react so I stamped the brake, swerved to the right then refrained from introducing the boss's youngest to new words. I know cuz I asked her after. "So, when we were about to crash did I happen to say f. . .No? Excellent."
Nanoseconds after not swearing I plowed into Mr Altima rendering both our 2008's 911 worthy. As the cop drove away an hour later he wished me a Merry Christmas. I thought it curious.
2 cops, 2 days , 2 Merry Christmas's wished. I'm trying friends in blue.
John
P.S. Stuff like this is helping. Oh, no one was injured btw. Although my poor Matrix will be in Shop Class for a month.
Nanoseconds after not swearing I plowed into Mr Altima rendering both our 2008's 911 worthy. As the cop drove away an hour later he wished me a Merry Christmas. I thought it curious.
2 cops, 2 days , 2 Merry Christmas's wished. I'm trying friends in blue.
John
P.S. Stuff like this is helping. Oh, no one was injured btw. Although my poor Matrix will be in Shop Class for a month.
Friday, December 21, 2007
One crappy day
There are many ways in which I would not wish to be woken up. The blare of the smoke alarm for instance. The scream of my darling wife convinced hundreds of spiders are biting her is another. An excited son leaping onto my sensitiveness. Yesterday morning was among the worst though as it involved my youngest, Alexa, announcing, "Ooo, Hugo pooped" followed by a series of giggles. What is wrong with her I wondered, as I lay, what could possibly be funny about dog's excrement at 630am?
I got vertical and walked towards the awfulness. Hugo had exploded in 5 different spots in most rooms of the house. The option of one place just hadn't occured. In Hugo's defence, he was sick the day before as well. Angie discovered this after coming home, opening the door only to be met with Hugo's awfulness from head to paw. Angie said he seemed embarassed, which, embarassed enough to clean it up, I wondered? Angie hinted aloud on the phone if I might take some time off from work and deal with this, but I politely declined citing the work of the Lord as my defence. 4 baths later Hugo was clean. er.
Ah yes, did I mention the day before we had paid $80 to get him professionally groomed? Sadly its true, so if you've seen Murphy, let me know, I'd love to strangle him then burn his stupid laws.
As I headed to work after attending to the hilarious dog poop I decided to stop by the bank to check on the ol account. It was still there but there was some zero's missing. I drove to work distracted by the statement when I saw the red light. The problem was, I was already in the middle of the intersection and it was a big one. Lots of whizzing cars. Panicing, I continued through, holding up my hands at the other cars as if to say "please don't hit me, I just need to get through this intersection, k?" Everyone complied and I made it through but was greeted with flashing red lights. CRAP!!! I yelled, to no one in particular. (actually I wish that's what I yelled.) As I sat waiting for the inevitable tap on the window I thought about Hugo's poop and how it no longer seemed that bad. How on earth am I going to explain this?
Tap Tap Tap. I rolled down the window greeting the cop with a smile so big my dentist would have surely nodded with pride. "Do you have some sort of medical condition?" "You'd think so, I replied, but actually no, I just had a brain fart." Brain fart. That the best I could come up with. "Do you have a driver's license?" "I sure do," I said, a little too excitedly. I handed it to him and he looked it over. "You do realize this is a $250 fine?" "Yeh, I responded, looking at my crumpled up bank statement. "What do you do for a living," was his next question. I looked at him, smiled sheepishly, then said "actually, I'm a Pastor, and I'm just headed to work." His expression stayed the same as if his brain was still processing this ludicris information and hadn't yet told his face it's response. "A pastor eh." "Which church?" "Uh, actually it The Calgary Church of Christ, in Malborough, just behind the Mall." I thought about including -"you know, the church that is helping 700 homeless people get gifts this Christmas," but I didn't. The cop continued to look at me. I continued to sweat knowing there couldn't be a worse time for a $250 mistake. "Well, have a good day then, try to be more careful." "I sure will, I replied, way to cooperatively.
I still wonder why the cop didn't ticket me. I was clearly in the wrong, so much so the question of my mental health was on the table. Perhaps it was because he believed me, I was awfully honest. Maybe it was the "what kind of unfeeling Nazi gives a nice man a ticket 5 days before Christmas dynamic?" Maybe it was the whole Pastor thing. Like, God's birthday is just around the corner, better not mess with one of his employees. I'm not sure actually. But it was cool. And one of the better Christmas presents I've recieved.
John
I got vertical and walked towards the awfulness. Hugo had exploded in 5 different spots in most rooms of the house. The option of one place just hadn't occured. In Hugo's defence, he was sick the day before as well. Angie discovered this after coming home, opening the door only to be met with Hugo's awfulness from head to paw. Angie said he seemed embarassed, which, embarassed enough to clean it up, I wondered? Angie hinted aloud on the phone if I might take some time off from work and deal with this, but I politely declined citing the work of the Lord as my defence. 4 baths later Hugo was clean. er.
Ah yes, did I mention the day before we had paid $80 to get him professionally groomed? Sadly its true, so if you've seen Murphy, let me know, I'd love to strangle him then burn his stupid laws.
As I headed to work after attending to the hilarious dog poop I decided to stop by the bank to check on the ol account. It was still there but there was some zero's missing. I drove to work distracted by the statement when I saw the red light. The problem was, I was already in the middle of the intersection and it was a big one. Lots of whizzing cars. Panicing, I continued through, holding up my hands at the other cars as if to say "please don't hit me, I just need to get through this intersection, k?" Everyone complied and I made it through but was greeted with flashing red lights. CRAP!!! I yelled, to no one in particular. (actually I wish that's what I yelled.) As I sat waiting for the inevitable tap on the window I thought about Hugo's poop and how it no longer seemed that bad. How on earth am I going to explain this?
Tap Tap Tap. I rolled down the window greeting the cop with a smile so big my dentist would have surely nodded with pride. "Do you have some sort of medical condition?" "You'd think so, I replied, but actually no, I just had a brain fart." Brain fart. That the best I could come up with. "Do you have a driver's license?" "I sure do," I said, a little too excitedly. I handed it to him and he looked it over. "You do realize this is a $250 fine?" "Yeh, I responded, looking at my crumpled up bank statement. "What do you do for a living," was his next question. I looked at him, smiled sheepishly, then said "actually, I'm a Pastor, and I'm just headed to work." His expression stayed the same as if his brain was still processing this ludicris information and hadn't yet told his face it's response. "A pastor eh." "Which church?" "Uh, actually it The Calgary Church of Christ, in Malborough, just behind the Mall." I thought about including -"you know, the church that is helping 700 homeless people get gifts this Christmas," but I didn't. The cop continued to look at me. I continued to sweat knowing there couldn't be a worse time for a $250 mistake. "Well, have a good day then, try to be more careful." "I sure will, I replied, way to cooperatively.
I still wonder why the cop didn't ticket me. I was clearly in the wrong, so much so the question of my mental health was on the table. Perhaps it was because he believed me, I was awfully honest. Maybe it was the "what kind of unfeeling Nazi gives a nice man a ticket 5 days before Christmas dynamic?" Maybe it was the whole Pastor thing. Like, God's birthday is just around the corner, better not mess with one of his employees. I'm not sure actually. But it was cool. And one of the better Christmas presents I've recieved.
John
Monday, December 17, 2007
Spencer, Hank, Bruce and Janet.
Do not judge less you be judged. A few weeks ago I called out the blogworld judging all the non-updaters. Let's see 12 days have passed since I "sold out" as my good friend Kyle said, writing a blog wrought with tired cliches. Ha Ha, Kyle's a real treasure of a friend, the kind that will tell you the truth. He was correct of course, I didn't want to dissapoint my cousin's wife by not Grid Blogging so I turned to Picasso to bail me out. Never trust a dead guy who paints odd shaped boobs. Anyways, I have time now so lets hope I get this thing right.
For the past two weeks I've spent my evenings sitting across the table from men and women on the edge of despair. No, I'm not talking about Flames fans (that joke would have worked much better if the Flames weren't currently on a five game winning streak. Crap.) The men and women I speak of are currently living in Calgary without a home. The homeless. Many of them came here looking for work but found no rent control instead. Some of them had their lives torn apart when their wife, partner or room-mate took off leaving them broke or worse, broken. Some of them made poor choices and are now addicted to. . .pain. All of them touched me. Messed with my mind and touched my heart. Each night, as I headed home, I felt grateful to be me and depressed they are them. Not dressed up and no place to go. We conducted 700+ interviews over a 10 night span. Of the dozens I personally conducted there were four that stood out.
The first was Spencer. As he walked towards me I saw his face was contorted, and then it wasn't, and then it was again. You could tell he was aware of what was happening but was powerless to do anything about it. Like hitting a patch of black ice. As he shared his story he talked about medical school and how he had become a nurse. "It's my passion, he said, I love taking care of people." One day he woke up and everything changed. Dystonia took care of him. Dystonia is a neurological disorder that causes abnormal muscle contractions. Spencer got emotional as he talked about losing his job and no longer being allowed to take care of peole. Without a source of income or support he was now forced to survive at The Drop In Centre. Survive. "We don't live here, a man shared with me one night, we exist." When it came to his wish, Spencer asked for Victor Frankl's classic "The Search for Meaning." He once knew where to find it but now wasn't so sure.
Next was Hank Williams. He chuckled as he told me his name. "Actually, it's Henry", he said. Life emanated from his eyes. Like he had found a way to not just exist. Hank had been homeless for 10 years which meant he was now 71. I know. Oh yeah, and he's paralyzed. I can't imagine what would be worse, being homeless at 71 or being paralyzed. Perhaps they're the same thing. Hank went on to share that he had 13 children (7 step children) and 28 grandchildren. I finally blurted out at one point "what on earth are you doing here?" He replied "I prefer this environment, its much more positive then living with my family." I was dumbstruck. Most of us couldn't survive a night at The Drop In let alone live there for years. But Hank was. And had chosen it.
A few nights later I met Bruce. Bruce is a 22 yr old Maritimer who moved to Calgary for you guess it. . .work. Bruce was brutally honest as he shared how alcohol had taken over his life causing him to lose his job and place. As he shared I couldn't help but notice he was different. He stood out. He wasn't like the others I had talked to, he was sharp, sure of himself, even seemed to know what he wanted. We ended up talking for several minutes as he told me tales of growing up in Nova Scotia, playing hockey with Sidney Crosby but being forced to quit when he hurt his shoulder. BTW - he claims Crosby is the biggest A_____ H_____ he's ever met in his life. When it came to his wish he said "all I want is to go home for Christmas." He then admitted how he hadn't told his family. I imagined his parents, sitting at home in N.S. talking about how proud they were of Bruce, moving west to get a job. Little did they know, their son was living on the street. When I asked why he hadn't told his parents he shrugged his shoulders and said "why tell them, they don't need to be burdened by my mess, they have their own challenges. Besides, if they knew, they'd send me money they didn't have or come up here and get me. Why would I put that kind of stress on them" Bruce impressed me.
Janet hit me the hardest though. She came up behind me and said "hey, don't I know you." I turned around seeing a girl I recognized but wasn't sure from where until she said "you're from church, right?" Then it clicked. Janet had attended my youth group 4 years ago, very infrequently mind you, but she had come, even to BC for Got Faith. When it clicked I almost broke down right there in the middle of The Drop In Centre. I talked to her for several minutes wanting desperately to save her yet not knowing where to begin or if she even wanted to be rescued. She ended up thanking me for chatting then wandered off. She looked so lost. And she was. She still is.
We completed all the interviews on Friday. Most of them have been added to the website - http://www.homelesspartners.com/. Many of the people have had their wishes granted but hundreds more still wait. (Btw - if you are moved by their stories or wish to participate you can grant their wish by mailing their gift to the shelter. If you are interested, let me know.)
This project was both heartbreaking and inspiring, eye opening and moving. I encourage all of you to either start this project in your own city or start volunteering at your local shelter. I realize this last part is turning into a commercial but I'm not sure I care. My life was changed.
John
For the past two weeks I've spent my evenings sitting across the table from men and women on the edge of despair. No, I'm not talking about Flames fans (that joke would have worked much better if the Flames weren't currently on a five game winning streak. Crap.) The men and women I speak of are currently living in Calgary without a home. The homeless. Many of them came here looking for work but found no rent control instead. Some of them had their lives torn apart when their wife, partner or room-mate took off leaving them broke or worse, broken. Some of them made poor choices and are now addicted to. . .pain. All of them touched me. Messed with my mind and touched my heart. Each night, as I headed home, I felt grateful to be me and depressed they are them. Not dressed up and no place to go. We conducted 700+ interviews over a 10 night span. Of the dozens I personally conducted there were four that stood out.
The first was Spencer. As he walked towards me I saw his face was contorted, and then it wasn't, and then it was again. You could tell he was aware of what was happening but was powerless to do anything about it. Like hitting a patch of black ice. As he shared his story he talked about medical school and how he had become a nurse. "It's my passion, he said, I love taking care of people." One day he woke up and everything changed. Dystonia took care of him. Dystonia is a neurological disorder that causes abnormal muscle contractions. Spencer got emotional as he talked about losing his job and no longer being allowed to take care of peole. Without a source of income or support he was now forced to survive at The Drop In Centre. Survive. "We don't live here, a man shared with me one night, we exist." When it came to his wish, Spencer asked for Victor Frankl's classic "The Search for Meaning." He once knew where to find it but now wasn't so sure.
Next was Hank Williams. He chuckled as he told me his name. "Actually, it's Henry", he said. Life emanated from his eyes. Like he had found a way to not just exist. Hank had been homeless for 10 years which meant he was now 71. I know. Oh yeah, and he's paralyzed. I can't imagine what would be worse, being homeless at 71 or being paralyzed. Perhaps they're the same thing. Hank went on to share that he had 13 children (7 step children) and 28 grandchildren. I finally blurted out at one point "what on earth are you doing here?" He replied "I prefer this environment, its much more positive then living with my family." I was dumbstruck. Most of us couldn't survive a night at The Drop In let alone live there for years. But Hank was. And had chosen it.
A few nights later I met Bruce. Bruce is a 22 yr old Maritimer who moved to Calgary for you guess it. . .work. Bruce was brutally honest as he shared how alcohol had taken over his life causing him to lose his job and place. As he shared I couldn't help but notice he was different. He stood out. He wasn't like the others I had talked to, he was sharp, sure of himself, even seemed to know what he wanted. We ended up talking for several minutes as he told me tales of growing up in Nova Scotia, playing hockey with Sidney Crosby but being forced to quit when he hurt his shoulder. BTW - he claims Crosby is the biggest A_____ H_____ he's ever met in his life. When it came to his wish he said "all I want is to go home for Christmas." He then admitted how he hadn't told his family. I imagined his parents, sitting at home in N.S. talking about how proud they were of Bruce, moving west to get a job. Little did they know, their son was living on the street. When I asked why he hadn't told his parents he shrugged his shoulders and said "why tell them, they don't need to be burdened by my mess, they have their own challenges. Besides, if they knew, they'd send me money they didn't have or come up here and get me. Why would I put that kind of stress on them" Bruce impressed me.
Janet hit me the hardest though. She came up behind me and said "hey, don't I know you." I turned around seeing a girl I recognized but wasn't sure from where until she said "you're from church, right?" Then it clicked. Janet had attended my youth group 4 years ago, very infrequently mind you, but she had come, even to BC for Got Faith. When it clicked I almost broke down right there in the middle of The Drop In Centre. I talked to her for several minutes wanting desperately to save her yet not knowing where to begin or if she even wanted to be rescued. She ended up thanking me for chatting then wandered off. She looked so lost. And she was. She still is.
We completed all the interviews on Friday. Most of them have been added to the website - http://www.homelesspartners.com/. Many of the people have had their wishes granted but hundreds more still wait. (Btw - if you are moved by their stories or wish to participate you can grant their wish by mailing their gift to the shelter. If you are interested, let me know.)
This project was both heartbreaking and inspiring, eye opening and moving. I encourage all of you to either start this project in your own city or start volunteering at your local shelter. I realize this last part is turning into a commercial but I'm not sure I care. My life was changed.
John
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Belated Gridblog
Chels suggested we blog on "The Art of Happiness." Immediately I had visions of sunshine and rainbows grinning down on a square house with a triangle roof and a family making merry in the curvy grass below. The artist was 5 and used a broken crayon. But that's Happiness Art.
The Art of Happiness. It's not a Science. Most of us approach happiness as if it were paint by number - convinced a completed picture is the key. I think its more Picasso then that. He seemed to just paint allowing the brush to move his arm. The key with Picasso is not in what he completed but how he completed.
Life is a canvas. How we approach it determines everything.
John
The Art of Happiness. It's not a Science. Most of us approach happiness as if it were paint by number - convinced a completed picture is the key. I think its more Picasso then that. He seemed to just paint allowing the brush to move his arm. The key with Picasso is not in what he completed but how he completed.
Life is a canvas. How we approach it determines everything.
John
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Alexa
Angie thinks I spoil little Lex which. . . ok, maybe at times, but she has freckles and baby blues so what do you expect? I took the kids to school today so I could watch Lex perform her first ever tap dance. As the kids tapped the parents grinned ear to ear including this one. There's something about kids that turns adults into putty.
On the way home Alexa sat in the front seat and pushed every button ever put out by Toyota. I finally encouraged her to stop so she moved on to CD's, skipping every song, ejecting, putting a new one in etc. At one point I would have actually perferred Angie's back seat driving. Love ya dear but cmon, if said driving was a crime you'd be doing 10-20 at Levenworth.
When we got home Lex wanted to say the prayer for the lunch. She pleaded with God to stop Rusty from showing off and for Hugo to stop being so greedy. The interesting thing is Rusty's our cat and Hugo's the family dog. To her credit she also prayed for the food.
Awww little Lex.
John
On the way home Alexa sat in the front seat and pushed every button ever put out by Toyota. I finally encouraged her to stop so she moved on to CD's, skipping every song, ejecting, putting a new one in etc. At one point I would have actually perferred Angie's back seat driving. Love ya dear but cmon, if said driving was a crime you'd be doing 10-20 at Levenworth.
When we got home Lex wanted to say the prayer for the lunch. She pleaded with God to stop Rusty from showing off and for Hugo to stop being so greedy. The interesting thing is Rusty's our cat and Hugo's the family dog. To her credit she also prayed for the food.
Awww little Lex.
John
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Great links
In case you missed it, Kori and Lisa Jones are currently living the life we all wish we were living. Read their latest blog post. It'll tickle right before stabbing you in the heart.
John
P.S. Angie and I watched Pan's Labyrinth last night. Amazing. For so many reasons.
John
P.S. Angie and I watched Pan's Labyrinth last night. Amazing. For so many reasons.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Grey Dad Cup
My dad celebrated his 71st birthday on Thursday. The exciting thing is he's still able to walk, talk, and use a toilet. Ha Ha. Angie says "I'm bad" for saying that, while laughing of course. I'm pretty sure my dad is laughing too - as long as he can still read or remember where he left his computer. Ha Ha.
My friend Bob Barnard lost his father on Friday. He was vacationing with friends when he suffered a massive heart attack. He was 67. This morning at church Bob walked up to the front unannounced and shared for 10 minutes what his father meant to him. How he was proud of him. How he was a good man. There wasn't a dry eye in the place. And I couldn't help but think of my dad.
Trey Moreau's father sustained a serious eye injury on Tuesday. He was changing a tire when the rod slipped sticking him in the eye. He suffered damage to his cornea and lens. At first the doctors wondered out loud if they could save the eye. Thankfully they were and he is currently recovering at Rockyview, here in Calgary.
Life is fragile. And can turn on a dime. We always think we have lots of time so we sit on our feelings, steer clear of the phone and plan to get together next week as this week is bad.
Today my Bombers play in the Grey Cup. I forget the other team. Growing up, most Sundays involved me scarfing down my mom's homemade Roast Beef then bounding down the stairs to catch the rest of the game. Note: My mom would always end up doing the dishes by herself. I don't think I ever thanked her for that. Thanks mom! Without your dish pan hands I wouldn't have the fond memories I do today. I actually discovered many years later that my dad wasn't the sports enthusiast he always let on. He mainly enjoyed it because it involved time with me.
The Pre-game is yapping in the background and while I'm excited to see Dimwiddie defy the odds effectively leaving Bandura out $50, without my dad - it'll feel empty. I'm not always gonna have my dad, the day will come when I will share Bob's heart ache. But not today. So I will love him today knowing he's watching online and cheering too.
Love ya pops. Go Bombers.
John
My friend Bob Barnard lost his father on Friday. He was vacationing with friends when he suffered a massive heart attack. He was 67. This morning at church Bob walked up to the front unannounced and shared for 10 minutes what his father meant to him. How he was proud of him. How he was a good man. There wasn't a dry eye in the place. And I couldn't help but think of my dad.
Trey Moreau's father sustained a serious eye injury on Tuesday. He was changing a tire when the rod slipped sticking him in the eye. He suffered damage to his cornea and lens. At first the doctors wondered out loud if they could save the eye. Thankfully they were and he is currently recovering at Rockyview, here in Calgary.
Life is fragile. And can turn on a dime. We always think we have lots of time so we sit on our feelings, steer clear of the phone and plan to get together next week as this week is bad.
Today my Bombers play in the Grey Cup. I forget the other team. Growing up, most Sundays involved me scarfing down my mom's homemade Roast Beef then bounding down the stairs to catch the rest of the game. Note: My mom would always end up doing the dishes by herself. I don't think I ever thanked her for that. Thanks mom! Without your dish pan hands I wouldn't have the fond memories I do today. I actually discovered many years later that my dad wasn't the sports enthusiast he always let on. He mainly enjoyed it because it involved time with me.
The Pre-game is yapping in the background and while I'm excited to see Dimwiddie defy the odds effectively leaving Bandura out $50, without my dad - it'll feel empty. I'm not always gonna have my dad, the day will come when I will share Bob's heart ache. But not today. So I will love him today knowing he's watching online and cheering too.
Love ya pops. Go Bombers.
John
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Adbuster _ Buy Nothing Day
Buy nothing Day for 2007 is tomorrow, Nov. 23. Take the challenge along with me.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Jerker
Monday mornings rock my roll because I sleep in, wake to an empty house, then watch what Angie calls "stupid guy movies." I look forward to these few hours as its the only time in the week that I can turn off my brain and be. When it comes to the movie choice I usually go with something Angie loathes knowing it'll be my only chance.
Today I chose Rudy. Again. And cried. Again. Except this time much earlier. Usually my tears begin about the same time Rudy gets carried off the field although I've been known to cry earlier, like when he gets accepted into Notre Dame. This morning was an exception and I'm glad I was alone because 7 minutes in the tears began their descent. To be honest, I was kind of embarassed sitting on my couch all by my lonesome crying like a little girl, but there I was and I couldn't deny it. And I did nothing to try and stop it.
It turns out, there are many dudes who've had similar reactions. In fact, a survey was just completed asking men which movies they cried in the most and Rudy came out number one. No word yet how many of those men are straight. Jk. To be honest, it kind of felt good crying whilt snuggled up in my pj's and blanket with a fire roaring across the room. I felt free knowing no one would call or burst in the door with a smile and camera. So there I sat, for the entire 114 min allowing the tears to do their thing. By the time the movie ended my throat throbed and my mascara had run everywhere. Angie bounded in 8 minutes later but I timed it perfect and was in the shower, a perfect cover for weepy men.
Anyways, no religion and philosophy today. Just a grown man and his favorite movie.
John
P.S. The Five word blog. They are alive and well.
Today I chose Rudy. Again. And cried. Again. Except this time much earlier. Usually my tears begin about the same time Rudy gets carried off the field although I've been known to cry earlier, like when he gets accepted into Notre Dame. This morning was an exception and I'm glad I was alone because 7 minutes in the tears began their descent. To be honest, I was kind of embarassed sitting on my couch all by my lonesome crying like a little girl, but there I was and I couldn't deny it. And I did nothing to try and stop it.
It turns out, there are many dudes who've had similar reactions. In fact, a survey was just completed asking men which movies they cried in the most and Rudy came out number one. No word yet how many of those men are straight. Jk. To be honest, it kind of felt good crying whilt snuggled up in my pj's and blanket with a fire roaring across the room. I felt free knowing no one would call or burst in the door with a smile and camera. So there I sat, for the entire 114 min allowing the tears to do their thing. By the time the movie ended my throat throbed and my mascara had run everywhere. Angie bounded in 8 minutes later but I timed it perfect and was in the shower, a perfect cover for weepy men.
Anyways, no religion and philosophy today. Just a grown man and his favorite movie.
John
P.S. The Five word blog. They are alive and well.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Is my humor dead?
It just might be. I owe you guys an apology. Once again, trying to be humerous I think I've offended. Ian hit the nail on the head. He said "I attempted." All I was trying to do was inspire us to blog some more. I wasn't angry at all. I know that's probably hard to believe when I speak of "wretched blogs" and "selling your soul to Facebook" but truly, I only say such things to cause a smirk. Perhaps its not worth it when I'm the only one smirking.
Anyways, I truly do enjoy our community and no I don't think all our posts need to be wordy philosophical treatises on religion and culture. Write what you feel. That's all that matters. That and Go Facebook.
John
Anyways, I truly do enjoy our community and no I don't think all our posts need to be wordy philosophical treatises on religion and culture. Write what you feel. That's all that matters. That and Go Facebook.
John
Friday, November 16, 2007
Is Blogging dead?
If not, it's close. People don't blog because they want to become better writers. They blog because they feel obligated to "update" those who care. Its kinda sweet but lets be honest, now that Facebook is upon us why would we still engage in this crazy behaviour. Why write 500 words when you can write 5 or less on someone's wall. "I got a new job." "I'm no longer single." "I just discovered my birthmark is actually a third nipple." Blogging's tough because it encourages more words then 5. And better words then brb. Try blogging just 5 words sometime. I dare you. It'll feel like you went to work with only socks on. Or had just one Lays. (that's the chips by the way, dirty minded people)
We used to be a blogging community now it's once a month and usually sounds something like this "Man sorry guys, I don't know what's come over me. I used to blog all the time but now I just never can find the time. Well anyways, all is well, life is good. Blah Blah Freakin Blah." What's the deal? If you don't want to blog then erase the wretched thing and sell your soul to Facebook. Just don't come around here with your courtesy blogs doing it because, well I have a blog I might as well blog. And definitely don't do it for the ones in your life who care because they probably don't. Unless you're willing to write for real. That probably sounded more harsh then funny John intended.
I'm afraid even young Nicholas has fallen prey. In his case, I don't think the culprit is Facebook. Probably just got busy. *Laughter erupts*. I for one miss the guy. It used to be automatic. Every morning I'd awake excited to read yet another witty diatribe on absolutely nothing. It was my morning e-votional. Yet here I sit, 18 days dry.
Its not even just Nick that's left me parched. It's Kamara, Brian, Tim, Dave, Chelsey and computerless Blair. Jeremy's done a bit better and Jay is working on 3 days straight although YouTube doesn't count as a blog J, I tried that too. I'd say I miss my man Ty but the day that boy starts blogging my Oilers will stop getting injured.
In some ways, who am I to talk? I've gone in spurts at best but it's mostly because I sense the deadening of our community. I love to write and am one of the few who blogs in the hopes of actually improving but I'd much rather write for dialogue.
So what do you say? Let's bring back the blogging. Pick a day and just stick with it. Go ahead and do your Facebook, I've been seduced by it convenience too but in the end let's not leave the world of the blog. It goes beyond the wall as it teaches us to use words, a forgotten gift in our culture of lol's.
John
P.S. I just noticed Brian blogged today. Will you look at that.
We used to be a blogging community now it's once a month and usually sounds something like this "Man sorry guys, I don't know what's come over me. I used to blog all the time but now I just never can find the time. Well anyways, all is well, life is good. Blah Blah Freakin Blah." What's the deal? If you don't want to blog then erase the wretched thing and sell your soul to Facebook. Just don't come around here with your courtesy blogs doing it because, well I have a blog I might as well blog. And definitely don't do it for the ones in your life who care because they probably don't. Unless you're willing to write for real. That probably sounded more harsh then funny John intended.
I'm afraid even young Nicholas has fallen prey. In his case, I don't think the culprit is Facebook. Probably just got busy. *Laughter erupts*. I for one miss the guy. It used to be automatic. Every morning I'd awake excited to read yet another witty diatribe on absolutely nothing. It was my morning e-votional. Yet here I sit, 18 days dry.
Its not even just Nick that's left me parched. It's Kamara, Brian, Tim, Dave, Chelsey and computerless Blair. Jeremy's done a bit better and Jay is working on 3 days straight although YouTube doesn't count as a blog J, I tried that too. I'd say I miss my man Ty but the day that boy starts blogging my Oilers will stop getting injured.
In some ways, who am I to talk? I've gone in spurts at best but it's mostly because I sense the deadening of our community. I love to write and am one of the few who blogs in the hopes of actually improving but I'd much rather write for dialogue.
So what do you say? Let's bring back the blogging. Pick a day and just stick with it. Go ahead and do your Facebook, I've been seduced by it convenience too but in the end let's not leave the world of the blog. It goes beyond the wall as it teaches us to use words, a forgotten gift in our culture of lol's.
John
P.S. I just noticed Brian blogged today. Will you look at that.
Monday, November 05, 2007
At least I don't throw Salt over my shoulder
Yesterday one of my teens asked if it was wrong to make wishes. I thought about all the times I had shut my eyes, desired fame and fortune then crunched down on my favorite Old Dutch. I thought about coins and how I had chucked them into wells and how that blue genie promised me 3 wishes if I separated my fingers and said Nanew Nanew. "Nah, I don't think so," was my spiritual response, then I countered by asking - "do you think it is?" She shook her head but the damage had already been done. We spent the rest of the time discussing wishes and the importance of walking in front of ladders.
Most people seem to be at least somewhat superstitious. I know I am. I haven't chucked Salt over my shoulder but I have retained facial hairs in the hope of seeing my Oilers build off their one game winning streak. Currently my face feels like a well lotioned bum.
I shared this with my teens (not the bum part) admitting that although I'm supertitious my superstitiousness is playful. For instance, I've been known to read my horoscope. When a goalie has a shutout going I refrain from saying "looks like he's gonna get a shutout." When I preach I wear my best underwear. When I buy milk I take the one at the back. When I walk, I avoid the cracks. I even hum a little tune when I go through yellow lights believing it throws the cops off. See. Playful right?
Most people seem to be at least somewhat superstitious. I know I am. I haven't chucked Salt over my shoulder but I have retained facial hairs in the hope of seeing my Oilers build off their one game winning streak. Currently my face feels like a well lotioned bum.
I shared this with my teens (not the bum part) admitting that although I'm supertitious my superstitiousness is playful. For instance, I've been known to read my horoscope. When a goalie has a shutout going I refrain from saying "looks like he's gonna get a shutout." When I preach I wear my best underwear. When I buy milk I take the one at the back. When I walk, I avoid the cracks. I even hum a little tune when I go through yellow lights believing it throws the cops off. See. Playful right?
Although this makes me very odd, I'm no witch. Or Harry Potter. Which is great because my British Accent is East Indian. Besides, these habits are more OCD then OCCULT. I'm a man of nostalgic routine so I do silly things. Confession: My kids have learned from my example and can now be seen grabbing way in the back grocery items just like wierd dad. Behold, the sins of the father will be passed to the 3rd and 4th generations. Sorry about that grandkids.
In the end I convinced the class that I still believed in God, I just like colder milk. It was a good discussian. Made James come alive.
In the end I convinced the class that I still believed in God, I just like colder milk. It was a good discussian. Made James come alive.
John
Sunday, November 04, 2007
As if
As we were driving back from papers this morning, Maddie looked over and calmly reminded me that she no longer believes in Santa. Cool as a cucumber I replied "why not" - as if there was a perfectly legitimate reason that she should. As if he can deliver all those presents in one night, she said- like she was trying to convince me. As if. Implying. . . how could anybody be so stupid as to actually believe one man, ONE MAN, could deliver all those presents. I wanted to say, uh, well. . you could be that stupid. In fact, you were that stupid. . .for seven years. As was I. And all of you. But I didn't. Thad be stupid. And mean. Bad fathering really.
Its funny how it finally dawns on us. One day we're totally buying it and the next day we're intellectual snobs, Santa, pfff, As if. The funny thing is nothing has changed. We haven't stumbled across some incriminating evidence linking the legend of Santa Claus to Wal-Mart or Tim Allen. We didn't catch our parents prancing around the house with presents in hand or bent down by the tree adjusting the gifts. I know for a fact my dad never pranced. Or bent down. So why I ask, why did we stop believing? And don't say we grew up or realized it was stupid because we have proved we are willing to believe in things a lot more far fetched then a nice man doling out gifts.
For example, how many of you are Flames fans? Still think their gonna win the cup?
How many of you are wives? Still think your man will be fart free one day?
How many of you are husbands? Still think your woman will come around on the whole farting thing?
See what I mean.
John
Its funny how it finally dawns on us. One day we're totally buying it and the next day we're intellectual snobs, Santa, pfff, As if. The funny thing is nothing has changed. We haven't stumbled across some incriminating evidence linking the legend of Santa Claus to Wal-Mart or Tim Allen. We didn't catch our parents prancing around the house with presents in hand or bent down by the tree adjusting the gifts. I know for a fact my dad never pranced. Or bent down. So why I ask, why did we stop believing? And don't say we grew up or realized it was stupid because we have proved we are willing to believe in things a lot more far fetched then a nice man doling out gifts.
For example, how many of you are Flames fans? Still think their gonna win the cup?
How many of you are wives? Still think your man will be fart free one day?
How many of you are husbands? Still think your woman will come around on the whole farting thing?
See what I mean.
John
Friday, November 02, 2007
I got a new job
I've become what you might call a "city transit guy". Angie takes the kids to school and because we're not a 2 car family I'm stuck riding the train. I say stuck like I just pushed order on the arsenic site and I'm making plans to off my wife. The truth is, I'm happy to ride and even happier with our new system. I get more time to read and Angie gets more time out and about as she calls it.
Because of this system I've gotten into a bit of a routine, which I never thought I'd like, but its actually kind of cool. Alarm goes off at the same time. Having only 14 minutes before my bus leaves yet still needing to dry off, get dressed, wipe peanut butter on my toast and throw last night's dinner into my backpack. Then whipping out the door while kissing the family goodbye and trotting across the road with only seconds to spare. Its kinda fun.
When I arrive on the bus I usually end up sitting by some woman over 50 because I've disocovered they're the nicest and don't mind scooting over a bit to accomadate my enormous bu. . .its a wierd phenomenon actually, the rest of me is skinny. As I ride I read. It only ever amounts to like 18 minutes but its a great way start to my day. Currently I'm reading this. I highly recommend it btw, hilarious and poignant.
Anyways, about a month ago, I began to notice this black fella as I got off at my last stop. He was handing out The Metro to everyone who would take it. The first few weeks I just ran on by, having already read the thing, but lately I've taken a bit more time to notice. The guy is cheerful. Unbelievably so. I can't imagine a worse job then handing out free newspapers in the worst area of town to a bunch of hooligans and grouchoes. Most people just run on past, including me, but lately I've slowed my pace and noticed. Good morning sir he'll say, in a british accent and so I'll reciprocate. . .Good morning. Last week I tried something different adding- I've already read it - to my repetoire. He'd laugh then say something to the effect of "I just missed you then." I would then skip off to work having just been cheered up by a man with no reason to be cheerful.
This morning I couldn't help myself. As I came down the stairs I reached out and grabbed his arm and did the squeeze shake thing. It was wierd, and corny, but the guy is just so dang cheerful I had to do something. As I grabbed him I said "haha, I already read it" which in retrospect was beyond moronic but he flashed his smile anyway and said "I just missed you then" then laughed a nice hearty laugh. I'm reminded of The Truman Show here but it really did go down like that.
As I bounded off to work I began to reflect on the difference this man has made in my life. His chosen career includes handing out free news to the disinterested yet he acts like its the best job he's ever had. It's made me realize many things but the biggest is: best jobs are relative. We can choose to love what we do or we can choose to be unsatisfied and pursue something else. This man has chosen to love what he does and because of that, he's helped me do the same.
I told someone last week I got a new job. They were shocked. But they don't know this man.
John
Because of this system I've gotten into a bit of a routine, which I never thought I'd like, but its actually kind of cool. Alarm goes off at the same time. Having only 14 minutes before my bus leaves yet still needing to dry off, get dressed, wipe peanut butter on my toast and throw last night's dinner into my backpack. Then whipping out the door while kissing the family goodbye and trotting across the road with only seconds to spare. Its kinda fun.
When I arrive on the bus I usually end up sitting by some woman over 50 because I've disocovered they're the nicest and don't mind scooting over a bit to accomadate my enormous bu. . .its a wierd phenomenon actually, the rest of me is skinny. As I ride I read. It only ever amounts to like 18 minutes but its a great way start to my day. Currently I'm reading this. I highly recommend it btw, hilarious and poignant.
Anyways, about a month ago, I began to notice this black fella as I got off at my last stop. He was handing out The Metro to everyone who would take it. The first few weeks I just ran on by, having already read the thing, but lately I've taken a bit more time to notice. The guy is cheerful. Unbelievably so. I can't imagine a worse job then handing out free newspapers in the worst area of town to a bunch of hooligans and grouchoes. Most people just run on past, including me, but lately I've slowed my pace and noticed. Good morning sir he'll say, in a british accent and so I'll reciprocate. . .Good morning. Last week I tried something different adding- I've already read it - to my repetoire. He'd laugh then say something to the effect of "I just missed you then." I would then skip off to work having just been cheered up by a man with no reason to be cheerful.
This morning I couldn't help myself. As I came down the stairs I reached out and grabbed his arm and did the squeeze shake thing. It was wierd, and corny, but the guy is just so dang cheerful I had to do something. As I grabbed him I said "haha, I already read it" which in retrospect was beyond moronic but he flashed his smile anyway and said "I just missed you then" then laughed a nice hearty laugh. I'm reminded of The Truman Show here but it really did go down like that.
As I bounded off to work I began to reflect on the difference this man has made in my life. His chosen career includes handing out free news to the disinterested yet he acts like its the best job he's ever had. It's made me realize many things but the biggest is: best jobs are relative. We can choose to love what we do or we can choose to be unsatisfied and pursue something else. This man has chosen to love what he does and because of that, he's helped me do the same.
I told someone last week I got a new job. They were shocked. But they don't know this man.
John
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Ghosts
I just told someone I believe in Ghosts. And it wasn't my shrink. It was some anonymous ghost junkie doing a poll online. Some 33000 people agreed with me while another 37000 did not. I find it wierd that I said I believe. I didn't really think about it I just clicked yes I believe in ghosts. But now that I'm thinking, I'm not sure I do. I mean I might, but I might not.
I definitely did when I was 7 and the lights were off and I was alone. I remember feeling so scared I would lie still as a stone knowing even the slightest twitch would alert the ghost and he'd show me his face and I would die of a fear attack. This stone lie would last for a few minutes until I threw back the blankets and made the courageous dash to the light switch. Because Ghosts can't survive in the light, ok. The lights would come on and I'd immediately feel better - even brave -and before I knew it this light would guide me to a sleepfilled night. This went on for 8 years until I learned mind to Ghost combat. You're not a ghost, you're a chair. Ghosts don't have suits hanging over them John. Just try to kill me Ghost, I've got God on my side. I lived the next 16 years worry free until one day I clicked yes I do believe in Ghosts.
Psychologists always tell us that our gut reaction to any question is what we truly believe. So do I? Do I believe in Ghosts?
Crap, I don't know now. Do I?
Do you?
John
I definitely did when I was 7 and the lights were off and I was alone. I remember feeling so scared I would lie still as a stone knowing even the slightest twitch would alert the ghost and he'd show me his face and I would die of a fear attack. This stone lie would last for a few minutes until I threw back the blankets and made the courageous dash to the light switch. Because Ghosts can't survive in the light, ok. The lights would come on and I'd immediately feel better - even brave -and before I knew it this light would guide me to a sleepfilled night. This went on for 8 years until I learned mind to Ghost combat. You're not a ghost, you're a chair. Ghosts don't have suits hanging over them John. Just try to kill me Ghost, I've got God on my side. I lived the next 16 years worry free until one day I clicked yes I do believe in Ghosts.
Psychologists always tell us that our gut reaction to any question is what we truly believe. So do I? Do I believe in Ghosts?
Crap, I don't know now. Do I?
Do you?
John
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Roller Skating
I went roller skating last night. I saw pig-tailed 7 yr olds, Lesbians, cheesy couples and middle aged men. One such man was so into it he actually danced to the beat of the song whilst gliding around the dome. He was fast, I'll give him that, but still, I wonder if he knew others were present. And that he was dancing to Britney's newest. I mentioned the Lesbians. I'm not sure if they were the official card carrying type but they were decked out in shoulder pads, elbow pads, knee pads and a snarl that said "I will take you out." And not for a drink if you know what I mean. Every time they flew past me they grunted and I swear I saw smoke rise from their mouth. I steered clear.
The happy dancer and angry ladies were scary but it was the cheesy couples that did me in. Awww look, the girl doesn't know how to skate. Imagine that. Good thing she has her man to fondle I mean hold her. Some were more refined and just held hands, which would have been fine, even cute, but they insisted on ruining the moment with open mouthed smiles as if to say
"I love gliding beside you, I do, I do."
It was the music that threw me over the edge though. If your curious, go to imaflamer.com. It's available for download. And free if you have a roller skate membership.
Why go then John? I took the young adults, that's why. Problem was only 4 came. And they were the couples in love. Not the open mouthed ones mind you but still, its awkward, especially when I'm the youth minister and they're in love.
The night finally came to an end. We went for cheesecake after and I almost ordered an Appletini just because. I'm going back next Sunday. Taking the teens. Having ourselves a little Halloween party. Guys dressed up in costumes wearing makeup and girls dressed like meat eating carnivors. Hmm.
I think I deserve a raise.
John
The happy dancer and angry ladies were scary but it was the cheesy couples that did me in. Awww look, the girl doesn't know how to skate. Imagine that. Good thing she has her man to fondle I mean hold her. Some were more refined and just held hands, which would have been fine, even cute, but they insisted on ruining the moment with open mouthed smiles as if to say
"I love gliding beside you, I do, I do."
It was the music that threw me over the edge though. If your curious, go to imaflamer.com. It's available for download. And free if you have a roller skate membership.
Why go then John? I took the young adults, that's why. Problem was only 4 came. And they were the couples in love. Not the open mouthed ones mind you but still, its awkward, especially when I'm the youth minister and they're in love.
The night finally came to an end. We went for cheesecake after and I almost ordered an Appletini just because. I'm going back next Sunday. Taking the teens. Having ourselves a little Halloween party. Guys dressed up in costumes wearing makeup and girls dressed like meat eating carnivors. Hmm.
I think I deserve a raise.
John
Saturday, October 13, 2007
We think we need things
Guess I should get married. All my friends are. Probably should get a cell phone. It is 2007 you know. Just got Facebook. Better, if I hope to have friends. Need a new pair of jeans. My other pair is dirty. Time for another vacation. Been working hard. Lets redo the kitchen. We have the money.
We think we need things.
I guess we do. Its just hard to know which things. Do I really need that or do I just want it? How is one to know? Dictionary.com tells us that a need is "anything that we lack that is necessary." Pretty good definition. Although, what's necessary? For many a cell phone is. Even a vacation. For others not so much but they have the money so might as well. I still don't have a cell phone. Many times I think I need one yet something keeps me from signing on. I'm not sure what it is. God probably doesn't care what I do. He's got other things to worry about. Although, he probably assumes I'm worried about those same things, which, I am. I think. I probably will get a cell phone, I am in ministry after all, and I'm over 30 which means by law I'm supposed to carry one on my belt, to the left of my fanny pack. Still. . .do I need it? If I haven't for 30 years, why would I now?
Maybe my needs have changed. They probably have. Although, maybe my wants have increased. There's a good chance. I have more money then I ever have at any time in my life. Isn't that what growing up is all about, increasing your net worth? Security's important I guess, but do I really need a $300,000 house, ten of thousands in RRSP's and a half a million dollar life insurance policy? I'm convinced I do, obviously, but does that mean I do?
3 Billion people live on less then $2 a day. They obviously don't need those things. Its not even an option for them. So they make do. Do I make do, do you? And then some.
What would my lifestyle look like if I just made do? I guess first I would have to sit down and make a list of my needs. Then a list of my wants. Then give away all my wants and tend to my needs. Man, biggest garage sale in history that would be. Sorry John, you don't need 100+ dvds. Or an Ipod. Ok, you can keep the new car but only because you spent $6000 on your last one and it still blew up.
This is hard stuff to wrap my mind around. Are my needs dictated by where I live (300,000 for a house is bottom of the market) how much money I make (I'm just below average) and security (I'm just being responsible)? Is security today's Baal? Do I need God if everything's been taken care of? Of course I do, what if I get a disease? (I answer quickly)
Tomorrow I begin my fall series with the teens. We're talking about, wait for it. . .Consumerism. Needs vs Wants. That kind of stuff. I figured I should probably decide what I think on the subject before I implore them to think for themselves.
I think I've decided. I need to keep thinking. Especially after reading this:
"And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left over to share with others."
- 2 Corinthians 9:8 (Msg)
John
We think we need things.
I guess we do. Its just hard to know which things. Do I really need that or do I just want it? How is one to know? Dictionary.com tells us that a need is "anything that we lack that is necessary." Pretty good definition. Although, what's necessary? For many a cell phone is. Even a vacation. For others not so much but they have the money so might as well. I still don't have a cell phone. Many times I think I need one yet something keeps me from signing on. I'm not sure what it is. God probably doesn't care what I do. He's got other things to worry about. Although, he probably assumes I'm worried about those same things, which, I am. I think. I probably will get a cell phone, I am in ministry after all, and I'm over 30 which means by law I'm supposed to carry one on my belt, to the left of my fanny pack. Still. . .do I need it? If I haven't for 30 years, why would I now?
Maybe my needs have changed. They probably have. Although, maybe my wants have increased. There's a good chance. I have more money then I ever have at any time in my life. Isn't that what growing up is all about, increasing your net worth? Security's important I guess, but do I really need a $300,000 house, ten of thousands in RRSP's and a half a million dollar life insurance policy? I'm convinced I do, obviously, but does that mean I do?
3 Billion people live on less then $2 a day. They obviously don't need those things. Its not even an option for them. So they make do. Do I make do, do you? And then some.
What would my lifestyle look like if I just made do? I guess first I would have to sit down and make a list of my needs. Then a list of my wants. Then give away all my wants and tend to my needs. Man, biggest garage sale in history that would be. Sorry John, you don't need 100+ dvds. Or an Ipod. Ok, you can keep the new car but only because you spent $6000 on your last one and it still blew up.
This is hard stuff to wrap my mind around. Are my needs dictated by where I live (300,000 for a house is bottom of the market) how much money I make (I'm just below average) and security (I'm just being responsible)? Is security today's Baal? Do I need God if everything's been taken care of? Of course I do, what if I get a disease? (I answer quickly)
Tomorrow I begin my fall series with the teens. We're talking about, wait for it. . .Consumerism. Needs vs Wants. That kind of stuff. I figured I should probably decide what I think on the subject before I implore them to think for themselves.
I think I've decided. I need to keep thinking. Especially after reading this:
"And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left over to share with others."
- 2 Corinthians 9:8 (Msg)
John
Sunday, October 07, 2007
The Prince of Peace / The God of War
Thanks to Jordan for this. I definitely plan on seeing it. Go here for more: http://www.themovieblog.com/godofwar/
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