The Magic of Radio

When I was a child of 14, my great-grandparents had an auction sale because that's what you did when you grew older and you had to move.

Somehow our family got an old plastic radio, and since I was interested in radio, I took it down to my room and began to play with it. 

It had the AM dial on it, but it also had something else called SW, which I would learn was ShortWave. 

It was not easy at all to hear anything on shortwave. Mostly because I didn't know how to listen to the shortwave band 

It requires a delicate and a light touch. You need to have your ears tuned and focused on listening, with full attention on what you're hearing through the static. 

I continued to learn through my listening, and one day I bought a thin piece of copper wire from the Mayfair Hardware store. 

I strung it out through my basement window up to the eaves, and followed the fence to the bottom of the yard. 

I returned back to my radio, and that night I hooked up the wire to the radio. And my oh my. The world opened up to me. 

All those hours I had spent learning to listen now paid off with the extra antenna. 

I picked up England and the Netherlands, Congo, China, the U.S.S.R.  I heard Ecuador and I heard Switzerland and Germany. Austria, Berlin, Australia, Angola, Afghanistan. The Far East and Israel. 

Of course, Cuba and Radio Belgrade, Radio Denmark. Japan and Kiev, Norway, Singapore, Sweden,
And on and on and on, and I have never looked back. 

And that's the difference between a radio full of static and a fun, enjoyable hobby. 

You have to learn to listen and to receive and to actually hear, because that's where you find the joy. 

It is a mix of the magic of radio waves, propagation, and just learning how to listen that makes it fun for me.

 

 

A Happy Childhood

This morning, on the way into town, I had to drive through a construction zone on the highway. They were resurfacing a portion of it I guess.

But as I slowed down and waved at the flag lady, or girl, the smell just captured me. My attention was drawn immediately to the smell. It was the smell of asphalt or tar we used to call it. Oil was certainly a big part of that smell.

When that smell hit me, a picture flashed through my mind of grandpa Thiessen. I know he used to work as a flagman on the highways, and I would sometimes go out with him on the work projects and you could smell that smell all day long.

The tar, the oil, the asphalt, and somehow in my mind it's been connected with him all these years.

But this morning was a real, powerful reminder. The image that came to me was of him. I remember smelling that in their yard as well because the Austin town streets were being recovered.

So even at their house, there's an echoing memory of tar and oil.

It's funny how that thought and that smell can be a comfort. How that terrible, nasty, gross smell can be the good thing, a blessing.

But as I thought about that, it led me to remember summers at their house. In southern Manitoba, in a small town, in a small house, on a nice green yard with lots of room to play and to laugh and to have fun. When we would go there for summers the times were special.

Sometimes we would bring a trailer and park it in their backyard and us kids would sleep in the trailer for night .

But summers in southern Manitoba are different.

The heat will get you.

The humidity is even worse.

It can be 30°+ Celsius, but when you add the humidity to it, it can become overbearing. Especially more as I aged.

But back then, when I was a kid, we just handled it. We sweat. A lot.

After hot and humid days of trying to find ways to stay cool while being very busy outside, there would come a bit of a gentle breeze.

The heat was always so overpowering and heavy and as evening would come, so would the thunderstorms. Thunder and lightning storms in Southern Manitoba are unlike other places I've ever lived.

They were stunning and dramatic, earthshakingly powerful.

The noise and the flashing lights was an amazing thing for a kid who wasn't necessarily afraid of them. But we still took wise precautions.

But after a hot humid day, the rains would pour and pour, and the lightning would flash, and thunder would roll again and again late into the night. You would go back to bed after that storm cleared and somehow fall back asleep, and soon another one would roll through.

Then, early in the morning the sun would rise and the birds would start singing. They were especially noticeable when I slept outside in the trailer.

When you left the trailer to go into the house to wash up, things felt so different. It’s those mornings I remember the most.

I remember that the air was sweet and cool.

The birds would sing happy as could be. And the whole day seemed blessed.

There was a sweet smell to the air. It was full of hope and potential. Another new day, what would happen that day?

We had made it through another storm. Everybody still alive, nothing damaged, and nobody hurt.

But I remember the breeze. The breeze would be cool because some of the moisture in the air. The humidity would be there, with none of the heaviness.


Yeah I remember the air being sweet, if that's a word I can use to describe it.

It was it was a thick, good wind because it brought moisture to the nose, to your skin, and that's always good. .


The memories continued to unfold as I remember Grandma.

In her house dress. Cooking or washing up, keeping the house going, talking and encouraging and checking on us or being out in her garden.

She was always out there early in the year, one of the first ones out on her block to be in the garden.

I remember that she seemed to love doing that, being outside, with her vegetables and her flowers, her onions, potatoes.

Yeah, she loved that.

She was a kind woman, but stern, firm, maybe firm is better.

She gave you a lot of room to be a kid.

She didn't have a great deal of high expectations.

Just behave reasonably and that was good enough.

She fed us well with fresh homemade bread. And boiled potatoes with gravy.

I remember Inside of the house was always so hot in summer. It was a small house so when three or four or eight people were in it, the temperatures would rise. So they would try to blow air through. Fans would be running all the time.

The fans and the open doors and the open windows would help that sweet air to blow into the house and help so much. I sometimes wonder how all those people made it without air conditioning in those days. How they could manage it, but they did.


Later in the morning, I would head outside to where my grandpa had a little wood shop, a workshop, built and attached to the back of the garage.

And you could go in the side door there, and they had a big counter with woodworking tools of all kinds. A lathe and saws and drills, and drill presses, and all kinds of wonderful tools to play with, and I would work and create for hours.

I would make little salt and pepper shakers on the wood lathe that I had learned how to make in school.

I would make airplanes, wooden airplanes, and grandpa would help me with that.

I remember he helped me with my first one. We made a an airplane with just two by four body and a wing that was made of, I don't know, a quarter inch plywood. Not a very big deal, maybe a foot by a foot, but a fun wonderful toy that you had built yourself, and then you would go play with it, and you would paint it, and you could put it on a weather vane if you wanted. But it was yours. You created it.

It was wonderful.

But that's how woodworking used to be. And that's how play used to be in those days. It was creative. It was fun.

I remember once, my cousin and I who lived out there, we took a 22 rifle and we laid it on a 2x 6 plank. Just three or four feet long, and we traced its outline on the wood, and then we cut it with a saw, and we cut out the shape of this gun, and we began to work it, to soften the edges, to sand it, to rasp it, to grind it into a pretty good looking toy gun that we could play with.

Those were fun happy moments. Terribly enjoyable memories for me today.

Yeah, playing, just playing.

I miss the days of playing.

I miss the wonders of the mornings and the sweet smell of the air in the mornings.

I miss the comfort and the peace and the safety in their place.

I'm glad for the memories. They are blessings to me and I want to create them for my grandkids too.

So we shall see.

About Community… Or what I learned at Midwinter this year

Midwinter is a gathering of the pastors and the church leaders of our church the Evangelical Covenant Church.  During the week of midwinter, we bring in amazing speakers. We bring in wonderful teachers. The worship music and the worship leaders are second to none in the world I would say.

The separate workshops or classes are places where we can learn real helpful ways to serve the body of Christ, and to grow in Christ Jesus himself.

And so this week I was exposed to some stunning teaching, some passionate preaching, and some insightful, life-changing or ministry changing sorts of approaches. All of which I received and was deeply encouraged by. 

But what was the best thing for me all week?  It was the conversations and reconnections I had with other pastors who I’ve grown to know over these years.

Moments where we get to share with each other how we are really doing. Moments where we encourage one another in the work that we are doing, in our struggles, and in our lonelinesses.  To listen to one another’s hurts. To check on those we know have been hurting and struggling.  To be able to hear with excitement, the possibilities of future ministry. And to pray together for those brothers and sisters. For me, those are the highlights I bring home. Because those are the moments that touched me the deepest. Probably because they’ve trusted me with their hearts, and so have I with them.

It is always a holy thing when you deal with another person’s heart. And even if they don’t trust you enough yet with their heart, there are holy things you can do to care for their hearts. Things like listening to them. Things like checking on them. Things like praying for them.  Simple yet holy gifts we can offer one another. And by doing that we live out the scriptures;  "Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ."

These are the ways in which we fulfill the law of Christ. And these ways reach deep into our hearts. 

The week before mid winter, I arrived in Jacksonville, Florida, for my week of Board of Ordered Ministry meetings. This is one of the two main boards of the denomination that makes decisions that will affect the direction of the denomination for years to come.  It is our work to walk with people. 

Our denomination holds the credentials of every new pastor who is ordained, or who comes to our denomination.  So it is our work on this board to help pastors and spiritual leaders grow and develop in their calling and in Christ.  There is a sense of responsibility we carry for this group of faithful individuals and we work hard at that. There are 1750 total active clergy who we serve.

With that many people who we are responsible for, at any given moment there are many who are in crisis and trouble, and there are those who have made decisions that would break their vows and even worse, their relationship with God. When that happens, we take them into our care to work to help them regain their own personal spiritual health.  Possibly, if it is fitting, to regain their spiritual ministry.

They come under suspension for care and support and help.  I am so proud that we as a church are ready to spend thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars on them and their families to help them get healthy again.

Of course, not all appreciate this level of care, and so that can mean interviews that are very tense, and can be emotionally and spiritually brutal.  And so the work can be challenging.

But this is my fifth and last year on this board doing this work, and I was reflecting on that at this meeting.  I will not miss the difficult meetings, the broken humans, the tension.  I will not miss the loss of respect for those I might’ve once deeply revered.  I will not miss the tears and anguish we have shed over sisters or brothers, who won’t return to health.  But it is hard and holy work. 

But… I will absolutely and completely miss the quality of the men and women I get to serve on this board with.  I will miss the community we have developed and the care that we exhibit towards one another. I will miss the caring I receive even after I am home from individuals on the board who have checked in with me about how my health is doing. I will miss this community of faith.

"A cord of three strands is not quickly broken." - Ecclesiastes 4:12

This is no work that one individual could do effectively. We work together and there is strength in our common unity in Christ.

"And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another - Hebrews 10:24-25

I believe it is good work that we do and the more I have invested in this community, the more I have been blessed.  And so here is another community of people that I have found great value and love being among.   God has blessed me more than I will ever be able to say through this community of faithful servants.

————

And finally, I learned…

That Florida can be beautiful in the middle of winter.  And that walking along the shore in the late evening with warm breezes on my bare arms,   (and yes, I do like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain)  Is such an amazingly delightful gift. 

But it’s not as amazing as being home.  Home is where my core community resides. My wife, Family, my friends, my community of faith.  It turns out that community trumps sandy beaches in January.  That is a bit surprising I must admit.

You know, Covid was hard on us, and we learned some new ways to live alone. But the mental health challenges have come a good deal from being alone.  And we have learned how to enjoy being introverted. But there is something of community that is lost in such an environment as well. 

"For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others." - Romans 12:4-5

Community is another of the gifts from our God, who knows us, who created us, and who loves us.  We are connected and dependent on one another, for life. And so the lessons to me these days are the lessons about community. Especially faith communities. 

Belonging to a street community or belonging to a choir community or belonging in a work community are all good communities, and bring something to us. They bring to us the sense of belonging. Of been known.  The community of the body of Christ also brings to us care, and love. It brings to us a sense of unity. A sense of being known.  It brings to us the sense that when we are in need, we are part of a greater group that cares about us.

And the more we are committed to these groups, and the more we invest in these faith communities, the more blessings we will enjoy.  And the more we stay away, and the more we separate ourselves, the more we cause ourselves hurt.

You know, each of us was created by our God to be a part of a community. Each of us was made with a deep need to be in relationship with others. And if we are willing to invest more of our selves in these communities of faith, the more fullness of life we will enjoy, the more abundance we will know. And the greater experience with love we will have.

And that’s what I learned at Midwinter this year. 

Eight Years Ago Now

This photo turned up in my social media feed from eight years ago.

 
We had to move quickly between and around buildings because of the fighting in Bethlehem. The tear gas was thick and burned. We were moving quickly down a street and an Arab shop owner pulled us into his shop. 

He and his sons got us something to drink and gave us the cure for the tear gas, smelling cut onions. (It works) Then we hid out in his shop for a while till things calmed down outside. 

We wanted to get some things because he had cared for us so well. He got out some of his products and before I could communicate my discomfort, he was dressing me in this Bedouin garb. I did the face because the other guys were taking pictures. We laughed pretty good, but it's a memory I will always cherish, of this caring Arab man and his sons and their shop in Bethlehem.

People Helping. There is much to be done.

People helping. That still energizes me even after all these years. You can make such a huge difference in a persons life if you are willing to get involved and help.

Last week Lauralea and I were having dinner in a lovely little Indian restaurant in the city, when a very drunk individual staggered in and weaved over to our table and started to yell and talk and be very crude and wide ranging in his emotions.  I was patiently waiting for the manager to come in and remove him from the premises.  Well when he came in, he was a diminutive man, an immigrant who was just trying to run his little slice of India. He tried to move the man along but then the inebriated fellow turned on him and started to move towards him. The yelling increased and then came the racist onslaught towards the owner. They were moving away from me now and the drunk fellow had his back to me, but when he started into the whole, "This isn't your country and you should go back to where you came from!" and then brought in something accusatory about natives, that was enough and I was up and moving towards the confrontation. 

I sometimes wonder how I would react in those sorts of events and thankfully this one played out without any great physical violence being done. I was bigger than the staggering fellow and was able to put my arm around him and eventually convince him to come with me outside.  Finally we got him out the door and stood outside while he yelled and then ultimately sobbed in a drunken display and I was his best friend ever. Sadly classic.  I finally got him to move along. 

Upon reflection I had wondered if I might be needed to assist in removing him from the premises, but it was when he became clearly racist that I found myself standing up and moving towards them. I can't stand that garbage.  It just tears down and destroys lives and hearts. 

When I reentered the restaurant I told the man, who was very concerned for my safety, that what the guy had said was a lie. That this was his country and his home and he was very welcome here.   

My conclusion is that there are far worse ways to spend your life, than helping people face the difficult realities of the day. It's good work.

We ate an amazing dinner of Indian wonders and I tipped the guy well because you shouldn't have to face such oppression because of your skin colour or your country of origin or culture or tongue.  I wanted him to know that he was home and among family.

Talking and listening (on the phone)

Time has been sneaking away during this pandemic and I'm noticing changes, especially aging in people I haven't seen for a while.

While my story hasn't been one of urgency, there are those who are losing contact either physically or mentally with those they love. Whoever that may be.

There is some good truth in this article. Not just about getting mom and dad to talk, but others as well. It takes work I suppose and depending on how private your friends or family may be, it may be a lot of work to accomplish. But I gotta believe there is value in it.

Anyway it's a good read. Check it out as you like.

Here's How I Get My Parents Talking on the Phone

Black Thursday?

It feels like it’s turning into one of those days where you have to push and fight for every inch forward. That every new thing on the schedule seems against you, like shoveling water, or running on ice.

Let’s just say that the car is in the shop, and I’ve just left the dentist with half a frozen mouth slurring speech. My appointments for the afternoon need to be rescheduled, depends on how long the car is in the shop.

But for today we do have the money to cover it. For today we’ll be alright.

There have been many years in our lives that we haven’t had the money. That we don’t get the car fixed or that we just pull the tooth and eat more soup.

Yet it’s not lost on me that all of our kids have straight teeth. That I have not had to eat more soup (although I want to eat more soup because I like it) And that whenever the broken cars we have had have died, there’s always been something else ready for us to use. Every time we’ve needed a vehicle, it’s been there.

So really I have much to be grateful for. I have not had to depend on my own strength or my own resources to save the day. Seems that the passage in Matthew 6 is true.

"Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you."

For us anyway.
Be blessed.

We called her the Velvet Fog because she always left a trail of blue smoke behind her.

I just never realized how many kms we put on it, till I found this photo.

We should have called it Jehoveh-jireh, God provides.

These kids keep growing up.

I think my notes with the flower I have sent for her birthday are getting mushier.
But thats ok.
Sometimes it takes years to figure out the right words to say.

Happy Birthday to our firstborn, Johanna.

Six years ago in Chicago.

Billy Graham and my early story of faith

Billy Graham died on April 21, 2018 and on that day I was in the hospital on my worst day fighting a nasty blood infection. Found out later I was fighting for more than my health.

Later on that day I recall through the haze hearing on a nearby TV that Billy Graham had passed away. Billy Graham was gone.  He had made an impact on my life, not the least of which was that as a pastor he taught me that simple sermons could be good sermons. I have worked to keep my sermons fairly simple all these years.

But he was called and anointed of God (Forgive me for using such an old word as anointed, but it fits.) for this work to which he was called.

I saw him preach in person once in my life, and it was amazing. God spoke through him right to me.

Some time ago I wrote down the following. I include it here to add to my story and how God met with me in a new way, through the good preacher.

---

Each of us has his or her own very personal story.

I was born into a christian home and I remember as a child when I asked Jesus into my heart.

It was a very intentional act and God was faithful to me as a child.

Through my years of childhood, God was always near, in my home and upbringing.

There were never any dramatic changes from darkness to light for me.

As I grew into my teen years I became really frustrated with depression and trying to make my own way in this life, I began to make choices that led me away from God.

Anger grew, with my parents and school and I made choices to skip classes and steal and, yeah.

I began to try to deal with it by becoming very busy, leading groups in church and school, working part time, volunteering in the community. And all those things just made me angrier.

My parents tried to help, with strong punishment. The effect of that made me more angrier with them. But it also began to open a crack in my spirit that led me to start to look at how far I’d come.

How far I’d moved from God.

I was angry with him because he wasn’t answering the prayers I was praying.

My teens were pretty much about darkness and depression. Despair was there too.

I wasn’t great at schoolwork. Didn’t fit in at school for these reasons, and it made me really angry why I was made that way.

By the end of grade 11 I was a mess, inside and out.

I remember my parents planned a weekend in Edmonton that summer.  Billy Graham was preaching there for a week and my folks wanted to see him.

So we came out from Saskatoon and heard the good brother preach on Friday and Saturday night. But it was something about the Sunday afternoon preaching that finally reached my angry heart.

August 17 1980 as a 17 year old, I finally gave up my agenda, my anger, my will, for Christ's.

And certainly though it hasn’t been all easy or pie in the sky, it has been good. He has been good.

I have been saved from the dangers of myself, my sin, my anger, my darkness, my lostness.

Saved to a new life. A new birth.

---

Video of Billy Graham at Edmonton, August 17, 1980

http://youtu.be/BrtSODrHlC8

Ok 2018, I didn't see that coming.

Well dear reader, in a strictly physical sense 2018 has been a most lousy year.  However, there have been some nice pluses. Family visiting, and people caring, yes there have been some positives as well.

To summarize, my kidney stones came to visit January 6th causing me significant daily pain until Friday February 16th when I underwent a second surgery to attempt to extract them, which was a success in that regard.

But by Monday February 19th there was something seriously wrong and Lauralea rushed me to emergency. It was a very long night as I descended into some sort of delirious, fever and chills, hallucination state. By Tuesday morning the Doctors were very concerned and the situation quickly deteriorated to a "Very bad" condition.

I had picked up a kidney infection and then a blood infection. Tuesday night and Wednesday were really bad as the sepsis raged through my body. The things I saw in my mind still are with me.

Anyway, they began treatment with powerful antibiotics and for the next nine days I drifted between sleep and wakefulness. I was most glad to regain control of my bodily functions. :)  I didn't understand how close it was until the Doctors met with me after I started to get a clear head. They were afraid I was past hope, but as they said, it was "That close."

So they released me and ordered rest and nothing but rest for the next weeks. Next week I get to go back to work.

Its pretty humbling, in the truest sense of the word. Life is simply a delicate gift that could tilt in either direction on any given day.  During the worst of it I remember having a very clear thought that this whole thing didn't surprise God. It didn't catch him unaware or make him have to play catchup in anyway. I felt peace and though I felt as sick as could be, I never felt alone or lost. There was comfort and peace through it all.

And now its halfway through March for Pete's sake, (Sorry Pete) and I'm still waiting to get on with the year. Now as I pick up my life in mid March, I am a different person than I was three months ago. I'm still working out how I'm different and though some things are very clear, some parts are not clear at all.

I think it will be a better deeper presence than it used to be. Even the sense of vulnerability is a gift.
I'm just glad I can get back into life next week. I'm looking forward to it, a lot.

Vacation

Being on vacation for us means getting to see the kids, scattered as they are across the continent. It always requires a bit of effort to make the trip, but its good to see them all again.

Winnipeg was great and warm for the season. Means we could walk lots and stop for amazing Ice Cream at the BDI.

Then to Wisconsin for time with the grandkids. 

And these amazing autumn colours.

It's been beautiful so far.

Let's see what this week brings.

Thought of the day #329

If the movement of your life is towards God, things become clearer.
If you harden your heart, the less clear things are.
Thought of the day

That is to say that some seem to struggle for clarity in their lives, in their day to day coming and going. That it seems less and less clear to them the ways to walk in.  Their hearts are hard towards God, or at least they are moving in a line away from God and his heart.  God allows their hearts to be hardened because they chose that direction to move in.

But for those who are in movement towards God, things in life become clearer the closer you are with  Jesus. Not that it is an easier life for sure, but it is a life marked by an often singular clarity on most things.

Just saying...

Praying for Peace (You can do that you know.)

Pray for peace in Jerusalem.
May all who love this city prosper.
O Jerusalem, may there be peace within your walls
and prosperity in your palaces.
For the sake of my family and friends, I will say,
“May you have peace.”
For the sake of the house of the LORD our God,
I will seek what is best for you, O Jerusalem.

Psalm 122

It was the wedding of the year

I've been saving up my holiday time all year so that we could participate in two of the most important events in our family life. The first was the birth of our third grandchild, little Rebekah. We took time to go and meet her and to celebrate with her family in August. That was very sweet.

The second event was the wedding our our son, Thomas to Terri Lynn Paulson.

So we booked off a week to go and help them run errands, set up, clean up, provide meals, and just invest in them and their day. It was an exhausting, wonderful week. :)

And what a wedding.  People ask how it was and my reply has been that is was a wonderful day, because it was a wedding that was who they are as a couple. It wasn't a wedding based on who the parents are or what Pinterest is saying. It wasn't a day based on societies expectations of weddings or how much money you could burn up for it. It was based on who these two are. People of community, people of the table, people of simple intentional lives, people of Jesus.

An outdoor wedding in the treed church alcove, surrounded by tall trees and the wide open blue skies above. A time for refreshments and visiting and games right there after the service. Then into the church hall for the dinner and a few speeches and live music from many of their friends.

They grew the vegetables for the meal, and their chef friend prepared the gourmet meal. They chose instead of a wedding cake, a fruit and chocolate crumble sort of thing that they served themselves. They had no bridal parties but many friends. They had no flower girls but had significant people in their lives bring forward real sunflowers they had been given, during the service. She came down the aisle to him reading a love poem he had written just for her. Her wedding dress was borrowed from a friend and she was beautiful in it.

Yeah it was an amazing day.

Terri Lynn is a delight and her family were great to meet and to work with. They are good Saskatchewan farm people. :)  And I met her grandparents who are Amateur Radio people themselves, so win, I got to talk ham radio at the wedding!


I officiate at weddings for my work, and often they are about somebody else's personality, wants, and desires. I always work to pull it back to the couple and what they want, but depending on the couple and the extended family, that sometimes doesn't work.

I see thousands of dollars put into those days, and huge expectations and thin relationships stretched to the breaking point. Just to have a wedding like others have.

That's why this was so fresh and real and alive and good.

I've seen that in both our children's weddings and that pleases me more than I realized it would. That their wedding days were consistent with who they are, or were at the time. That makes me happy.

Thomas and Terri Lynn with Lauralea's parents and my mom

Ten years old today and I still don't know where to stick my apostrophes.

Yes, this blog is ten years old today.
That's like, forever when you're ten year old.
Which I suppose it is.
Forever I mean.

And on this tenth anniversary, I'm in the office working on preparations for Sunday, and nursing my youth night hangover from last night. :)

I have Classic FM playing on the radio.
My Administrative Assistant is in the next room preparing the information sheet for Sunday.
Herself is in town for a medical consult.
Micah has driven to class today because he has setup for the final Jazz Choir concert tonight, which we'll be at.

And I am thinking of heading into Edmonton where we have an elderly church member who has been admitted to hospital.

So it's a regular day in paradise.

----------------------------------------

I know that blogging is so, yesterday. I know that.
People don't and shouldn't have to go to a website nowadays.
It should be in their stream of information they have coming at them, social networking wise.
I agree with that.

The thing is that I've invested ten years of the good, bad, and the ugly, in writing in this space. So I'm not soon to abandon it for Tumblr or Google+ or, heaven help us, Facebook.

No this isn't the good old days of blogging when it was cool and Radio Stations might quote you or newspapers interview you.  But I've got this pile of collected works here, some of which is drivel and some of which is fun, and some of it is even thoughtful, and it's sort of become my contribution to the Internet. So even though there are no longer six hundreds of you here each day, there are still one or two hundred of you here on any given day and if I were writing for you dear reader, that would be enough to keep me writing.

But I'm not sure I write for you.

These days I can see it as maybe a place where my children's children's children may go to see a version of who I am.  Mind you, it is a version of myself and I won't often make myself look bad, even though I can be at times.

I use it as a record too, especially when herself and I will be in the midst of one of those arguments about when we got the new vacuum nozzle, was it when the small potted rosebush died of a lack of water or when the cactus died from undue care and attention. I can easily pull up my version of reality and correct herself.

Mostly though its always been just a version of a life. My life. With its successes and failures and assorted attitudes. Hopefully a thoughtful life, with my sense of humour built in. Hopefully.

So you see, these "Blobs" have many different values.


I think the State of the Blog piece I wrote two years ago when I was eight, still holds up pretty well. You can see my thinking there, if you're interested.

There has been a lot of water underneath this blogging bridge. Many many rich and wonderful relationships have grown up around it, and I'm still reaping the joys of blogging as an old reader and blogger in his own right comes to join me in the work here in the next months.

I know that there are seasons to this blogging stuff and the season I'm in right now is not always a season I appreciate. However there are things to learn and it actually pokes at my insides sometimes when I think that I'd like to blog about this but not that aspect of life. In those times I am challenged and I grow.


So as for the future of my writing here and recording life as I see it, I can't see an end in sight, for now anyway. I think it will continue to ebb and flow as I hit my fifties in a few short years.

But for now, for today, let us eat cake and celebrate.

Or because it's lunch now, perhaps a tuna sandwich.

Well, at least no one died. (Course its still early)

Now, follow along as I recap a delightful day off.

It was to be a nice day in the big city with lunch out and our favourite used book shops to celebrate Lauralea's birthday which comes tomorrow but none of us will be around tomorrow to celebrate properly.

Both Lauralea and I awoke tired and groggy, you know how that is occasionally right?  Just kind of mentally and emotionally stuffed up, not ready for a big fun day.

But we got in the car in hopes that the lurgy would break while on the road. Our first stop was to vote in the provincial election, ( GO ___________ Party), which ended up not being on the way to the city but the other direction. Ok we can suck that up.

After the drive to the poling station we were feeling like that 15 minute drive was already enough for the day. So we changed plans and headed to Ponoka which was 15 more minutes away, the closest town from where we were. We could still get a nice lunch, and hit the bookshops for a sweet deal.

We got ourselves to the nice restaurant in town and the sign said "Closed on Monday." Great. We sucked that up and got ourselves to the next nicest (we thought) restaurant in town. Surprise, it was open Mondays, but upon reflection, it should have been closed.

I won't share its name but it's initials were the Iron Horse. Lets see, small chicken caesar salad with rotten lettuce, nachos with stale old chips, and two french onion soups without any melted cheese and one crouton made up of a dried piece of loaf half sunk in the bowl of warm, chicken flavoured broth. 40 Dollars.

The theme of the day continued as we got to the book store and found it too was closed for Mondays.

So still trying to redeem the day yet again we walked over to a used junk store, maybe find a book or two. What we did find was a used tape player that Lauralea can use to listen to some old tapes we found that used to be a part of Lauralea's childhood. Finally the day was taking a turn.

With that one win in our pocket, we decided to give up on the day and just get to the safety of home. So we stopped for groceries as Lauralea is cooking for the Moms of PreSchoolers meeting this week, and headed for home.

As we were driving we started looking at our week ahead and then the following week too. I knew it was getting busy, (I have three different meetings to be at tomorrow night,) but I never thought it would be 15 days before I saw an evening off again.

It's ok, we can do this.
It's only a few weeks. Everybody has seasons of work like that. We can do this alright.
And we are not big birthday celebration types of people, so that's ok.

We got home and unpacked the groceries, and cleaned off the old dusty tape player we had purchased, getting ready to crank some old tunes.

You've got to know by now if you've been following the day so far, that I plugged in the player, turned it on, stuck in a tape, hit play, and discovered that the player is, dead.

Of course it is.
Perfect.

We'll start over tomorrow.

Teenagers are people too

During the past year or two we've been down one staff member at church so I've stepped in to provide care and programming for our young people. That hasn't been a big ordeal for me, mainly because I love spending time with them and sharing life with them. They are amazing, passionate, easily distracted, loud,  hungry for love, lonely, dealing with changing bodies, people. And I love them.

Sometimes God will show me their insides. Sometimes when I'm thinking of them or praying for them, or even watching them act out from across the room, God will show me their hearts. The truth is that in those moments of deep exposure, my breath is taken away. The deep personal rejection they deal with, the pain from parents who are in crisis, the struggle to be normal and to not stand out for the wrong reasons. The utter aloneness they feel sometimes, and the fear that those feelings have come to be a regular part of their lives is like looking into the abyss.

Sometimes God just peels back the thin veneer of one of these kids lives, and I am staggered.  Then in my staggering response I bring them back to God for his attention and love.  I carry what I've seen in my heart and I check up on them and I pray for them again and again. But I'm never quite the same, for what I've seen.

I know that this is a critical time in their lives. A part of growing from children into adults is the part where we learn to hide or disguise our pain. We find distractions that are unhealthy for us or we dull the pain, so we can live. Soon after those years we become experts at hiding our pain, or decorating the disfunction so it looks normal and we blend in.

Maybe that's one of the reasons why Jesus always loved the young ones best.  I'd have to agree with him there. The younger ones are honest and forthright and if you have integrity, they will want to learn from you.

And that's the deal breaker for many of them. Integrity, or the lack of it, will send them running in the other direction. Lecture at them, tell them one thing and do another, be dishonest, and they start to shut you down. And honestly, that's refreshing.

Probably if you see them as another life form or you think that teens = trouble, or if you think you can change their lives with a good lecture, I'd encourage you to make friends with one, and just listen to them. Ask them questions and listen. Don't tell them things unless they ask you. Maybe, just maybe you will catch some of what they have, and they have a lot to offer.

There are so many good opportunities to be involved in young peoples lives these days. They don't require much expertise. They just need to be loved, and treated honestly, by people who can look at them and see real people.

The power of music on memory

Last night I was tossing and turning a bit the way you do when you know you need to be fast asleep already and you're nowhere near sleep. So I reached over and turned on the radio to Easy 101, an easy listening formatted station I like that broadcasts out of Tillsonburg Ontario.

As the one smooth song from the late seventies was ending, the beginning rhythm of another song was starting and even before I was sure what song it was, I felt myself being transported back in time and space to the late spring in 1987 in SouthWestern Ontario. Like a time machine those musical notes took me out of my bed and dropped me in a car heading to London Ontario with Lauralea and a back seat full of friends heading out on a hot humid pre-summer day.

The sun was bright, the windows were wide open, the radio was on, and then people began to sing the Chris de Burgh song, Lady In Red.

I kid you not.


After that I just got up and made some toast.
It's easier than all the time travel.

Lunch at Clarkes

Lunch at Clarkes, originally uploaded by RandallFriesen.

Ok, memories are taking over now.

UPDATE:

And when the owner came over to present the check he was searching his mind for some distant connection and as I communicated twentysome years since we had last eaten there he asked my name.

"Friesen," I replied.
"Who's your father?" he asked and I answered, "Reuben Friesen."
"Oh Reuben, yes of course, Reuben. It was sad when he went."

Yes it was.

Dear England

Dear England;

The wind is howling here and it's blowing the snow around so sharply that I just want to hide out in my office a few minutes more before I trek home for a rare free evening.

On a whim I load up the London traffic cams and see the rain gently falling in London and the Christmas lights up on Regent and Oxford streets and someplace inside the memory of our time there sustains me. I am warmed by memories of your friendship and our time together.

I expect you are soon off to bed and so I hope you are warm and that your spirit is at peace enough to rest.

We? We are doing alright I suppose. Though if the truth be told both Lauralea and I are off our game just a bit. The challenges of having family who live away and not near, well sometimes that can make you lonely and a little sad. Sometimes when there are moments to be shared and things to be said and you have to share them through a mobile phone txt plan, sometimes that gets old.

It's just the stuff of life really. Nothing new or huge. Just another day in a lifetime of what I think is obedience, which may just be another way of saying choosing to live by faith.

But we have snow now and the cold isn't as cold as it was last week. We have Christmas lights up too, though certainly not as amazing as yours are. They would be fun to see in person.

I hope you have a good safe Christmas UK. I know that with so many cutbacks that some of your people will be hurting, but I'm praying they don't find themselves in the midst of despair. Sometimes the grief that comes from loss can take you into depression that just destroys everything. You crawl inside yourself because its the only thing you are left with, and you ignore the outside world because its the only way you can cope. I wish your spring comes very very soon.


Oh and thank you for the updates on Strictly. Somehow that has become a fond shared memory of our time there visiting with you, and since its still alive, so is our pleasure. Well, except for Felicity's early dismissal. Whatever were you thinking that day?



With that I shall bid you a good night.

Sleep well London.

Randall