When the Music Stops

There is never too much time to prepare for adolescence. I was a gangly kid, skinny as a fence rail and had little to no confidence. Oh, I put up a good front. I have said many times, on many occasions, that I have been a terrible introvert that got either turned inside out or upside down, I am never sure. Life does carry with it the need to grow up, but one scarcely thinks about the need to stay a child. The main push in life is to prepare for adulthood. A wise (well maybe radical) instructor I had in Technical College once told the leaving Electrical Construction Class; “The great plan for life, you will one day find, has been poorly planned.” He went on to tell us that if life were to be more productive, the first 40-45 years of life should have been designed for play, exploration, and finding one’s self. As good as that sounded, my psyche had already been both primed and tuned to hard work, and toward support of the nuclear family; described as “a couple and their dependent children, regarded as a basic social unit”

Life for most then has become a constant round of the experience of hardship, the ecstasy of highs in life, and oft times long droughts of mundane constancy. In my old age, I am finding that the cycle of life has held everything I need to know about survival, but for the impending ending of it all. Ok, that sounds morose I know. But, there is a lighter side to all this, I promise.

Did you go to dances in your adolescence? Perhaps you still do, at one level or another! Like most young men of my social and economic background (both semi-rural and poor) I began this juncture of life with a healthy fear, planted by conservative parental guidance and harsh peer pressure. Stresses created by the moral codes of Church and faith directives, confronted and in direct opposition to natural human urges toward a desire for both female companionship and some element of fun in life, can almost tear a teen in puberty apart! That may be overstated, but it borders on the absolute for most!

Never the one for just blurting out anything beyond the need to know, I found myself in a quandary, trying to establish some knowledge of, “What happens then?”. Ok, I am not talking about how I got my sex education here; this is about the mechanics of meeting a girl, how to ask her out and when the music stops… literally, what happens next? You see, the simple answers, or what seems so apparent to most, can be a vast desert of despair to a young person seeking guidance on what should be the most natural of life events. But, it is not; in my case life was underscored by a huge lack of confidence. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to realize that environment sometimes has a cynical plan, directed by some of the players in life, to drag you down and bury you in self-doubt and crushed by ridicule. Even when the playing field has been drawn, the players are dressed and ready for action, there is often the presence of cliques, power strategies and of course the ever-present stealth of that greatest enemy, jealousy. We don’t like to address the negatives, but it is good to face them, do our best to understand the dynamics of their presence and live both through them and beyond them if we are to not just survive, but on to succeed in living.

Youth today are under great strain; greater perhaps than ever before in our past few generations. I know that is a reoccurring theme for me! The need to perform well, make elevated and financially significant strides in life, and thus establish a well-polished and socially groomed presentation for the world, is not just a goal, but a mandated “must accomplish” directive for most. I know I digress again! My perception of the process in life is that we must both acknowledge and understand the processes that get us to where we find ourselves at present, so as to more beneficially prepare us for the future. Today’s generation, without a doubt is finding themselves in that position. Who is really taking the time, or has the time to know what, where and when our youth are functioning at more than a reasonable level within a healthy, secure environment outside the home? I will leave that to your own thoughts and ruminations.

Life then is tenuous at best; we know that much, without too much prompting. Going to that first dance at our Town Hall was likely the most daring and scary adventure for me of anything to that point. I had never been on a date, never danced and the only thing I had going for me was that I loved music. Word had it (the rumour mill) that lots of guys went to the dance without a date, and there were generally plenty of girls there waiting to be asked to dance. Mustering the courage to ask, after watching the gyrations (I didn’t know what to expect as a sheltered novice) of those who kept time to the music, was no easy task. That pool of self-doubt seemed like an endless sea engulfing me, so I only stood and watched for much of the evening. It took a few more few dance nights to get my courage up and I finally asked a school mate to dance. Little did I know at the time that she was as nervous as I was! But, the enduring question still remained… “What do I do when the music stops?”

Moments of embarrassed fidgeting, apologies for not being the best dancer and “thanks for the dance”, were my best attempts and off she went, and Edwin left the building. It was a long time before I tried again and that same girl asked me to dance the very next attempt I made at attendance. Trial and error seemed to work, but there is more to the story. I never understood then the concern I had for the ending of the music and what was either expected or desired after one has heard the music, responded in chorus with another human; in that case on the dance floor. What exacerbated the situation was that I had received all the warnings, the prompting to be morally sound in judgement and of course the loudest, “Stay out of those dark corners!”

Time healed many wounds, many disappointments and prepared me for most of the fears that I would face throughout my life. What actually begins to prepare us for loss of grandparents, aunts and uncles, parents, and some cases siblings and spouses, long before their expected departure? We tune our lives for certain expectations like a musician tunes their instrument. Somehow during those events in life, like the breaking of a carefully tuned string in the midst of a concert, reality snaps to the forefront, and our state of mind may gauge our readiness and response. Today I am able to laugh at the insignificance of my flight from the dancefloor that night so many years ago, assessed against mountains of stress I have had to face since, and yet live on.

To face imminent loss, to fear the outcome of what might be, and then to live through it is no simple task. Fleeing from the Town Hall at that young age, trying to look as though I had everything in control, I was doing my level best to just breathe. People often ask how I am doing. It is clearly out of a desire to know my state of health, state of mind, and perhaps even if I am content with life in retirement. “Are you keeping busy?” “Are you doing any preaching these days?” One that often disarms me is; “Oh Hi Edwin, I was thinking of you the other day… are you interested in taking an interim position for a few months anywhere?” The kindness is poured forth from internal caring perhaps, but depending on my state of mind that day, the words may hold more a sense of curiosity that those intended to be empathetic in nature. So, while memories echo back from my youth, I am sometimes facing that Town Hall crowd on the way out, while the curious asked their questions; “Isn’t the band great tonight?… you’re not leaving early are you?” Confused now? Without overstating the stated, we are not always in complete control of the past. Most will know what I mean when triggers cause us to doubt our decisions or motivations.

We vacillate between our ability to be courageous or bolting in fear, throughout life. Those trivial exercises in preparation for life can prepare us for the pitfalls, disappointments and tragedies, but what is most often left out, is something I have mentioned before. It is the foundation of a faith base that is capable of carrying us when we can’t stand; keep us together when we are falling apart. It matters not our age when the music stops… for it will, it does and what we do next makes all the difference. Human nature has shown that we are capable of living beyond the disappointment of anything that takes away our momentary joy. That could be taken as a very unfair statement, and seem to trivialize circumstances. The moment when fear of the aftermath, that draining fear of hearing ourselves say’ “What am I going to do then, or now?” is not trivial… it is life-altering.

Putting away the fear, the anger, even to a certain extent the process of equating blame; for that is a real problem in and of itself; there is that critical point looming before us when we will have to face the world once again. I used to wonder how people moved on, how the process of letting go was manifest with such grace and ease.  Then I entered the study of human psychology and learned how our innate systems of defence and recovery can get us through. Yes, it is true; the human heart is capable of bouncing back, of putting a good face on the situation and ploughing on into the future. There is more to that then a mere knowledge that whatever the circumstance we find ourselves in, and hearing the words, “it will eventually be OK!” We love to put a gloss on everything, to dress up our agonies, put on a happy face, while inside we are eaten up by that self-doubt and fear. I could never get beyond the pain. A bit of a self-disclosure there eh! Well, it is true. In weakness and despair, I fell back to my roots and that root system was found in my faith.

Here’s the kicker though (the hard line taken by many that often makes a decision seen something less than meaningful), turning to God as an act of faith and comfort, is seen as weakness. It didn’t take me long in a university study to that see that humanism was the basis of most academic thought. My naivety in life, even though I worked in the toughest of conditions, had not prepared me for that confrontation with confusion, and as I confess now, it nearly broke my resolve to enter the ministry.  The music stopped not once but hundreds of times, as I was confronted by not only the humanism of others but my own inability to cope with the heartlessness and deviousness of humanity. It all sounds quite terrible doesn’t it; so unlike the usual stuff, I write about! But, It was dismantling, it is, it always will be; so I cry out to God, “What now, what next, how can I carry on?”

That first dance was just the beginning. Many will know I’ve lost a child, faced death in a distant country, wandered in the wilderness of regret and despair and tears would not stop the pain only my faith helped. Turning to God is not a weakness, it takes courage to let go of who and what we think we are and then take hold of the only one who truly understands. I’ve gotten so tired of listlessness, paralyzed by both stress and distress, while my needs were being designed, defined and refined by the well-meaning others. The greatest help I have ever received from others were in those moments when they came alongside of my pain and prayed; not a demeaning, sympathetic discourse, but from a heart that hurt like me; for me, not out of pity, but because my pain was their pain.

It has often been said that today God has no hands or feet, no voice or personhood; He is the silent God, once alive now dead. When the music stops, and it does, we may go deaf and blind to the potentials yet remaining. We need not to persist in that state if we reach out to He who has always been there and forever will be. I had started writing this a couple of days ago and the processing of thought was interrupted over the weekend by a family visit. Then, last night my wife asked if we could watch the movie, “The Shack”. Odd how God’s presence, in unexpected ways, can match the need of the moment? No, I am convinced that life is neither mere happenstance nor just providence working its magic. That movie underscored once again the meaning of love, God’s love and His desire for us to allow forgiveness for both self and others in the worst of times. Loss of anything, jobs, health security or separation from loved ones in divorce, death or indifference can make the music stop. How you handle those moments may be gauged by either “Karma” or a more fruitful trust in God’s plan.

I leave you with these faithful words from Scripture that have helped me immensely; “For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:11-13 - New International Version

I pray God will allow me to be His hands, feet and voice for someone when the music stops… and it does! Remember, I will always be praying for you!

Is Life a Mere Investment with Diminishing Returns?

I can’t remember who once told me the secret of life! I chuckle when I think about how as a youngster, just beginning life’s journey, we can go so wide-eyed into the unknown directed by such poorly explained and misinterpreted visions. The voice, that of a person who at the time in my estimation must know a bit about life, (he already seemed a bit long in the tooth …a person of some age) seemed confident and held back no joy in relating his perception of the future. What we learn in those moments mainly depends upon our past. Have you ever noticed that? We run up against problems, questions and situations that need clear and succinct definitions, and yet they often elude us. Many are the times in my somewhat adventurous life that I have run that course, been approached by those varying circumstances and found myself weighed, measured and have been found wanting, this due to that advice being “the secret of life”.

Say what?  You mean I haven’t told you what the secret was yet? I often digress, as many of you, who read my scribble well know.  OK, let’s get back to the beginning! That person, an older friend that I worked with was trying to be helpful; “kinda like” my Mother, who used to tell us that aiming for the horizon may only cause us to crash when we get there. Her take was, “Aim for the stars!” I guess it might have been a reflection on the age which we were born into. After all, it was not long before we were given television pictures of the first man on the moon, other than that cheesy guy who stared down at us on clear nights during its fullness, and in all its glory. The post-war era brought changes that outpaced most of society, and the ability to adjust fully to those changes might have bent the benchmark of morals and mores far beyond where it had been in perhaps more than just a few generations. On the other hand, it may be that many of those hidden secrets now found a more relaxed and accepted entry into daily life.

I grew up with poetry in my heart and music on my mind… little else. Where was I headed with that one!? There were so many questions to dispense and too few who were eager to give straight answers. “If I tell you then you will know and what fun is there in that!” “Life becomes the playground upon which only the strong survive” and “Life is but a stage and we the players on it!” Ok… I am paraphrasing Shakespeare in that last one, but you get the drift. Any answers that match either our personal focus (mindset at the time) or our hopes are not always forthcoming when needed, or more to the point, perhaps when we want them at any stage in our lives.  So there I was, a mere fledgeling in life, and those words just seem to ring true for some reason. I was a bit of a misfit in many ways I have to admit. Back then I was either being beaten up or having someone spit in my face just for something to do; anything to ridicule the little “goodie-goodie” it was said.  So I became a bit of a radical. It wasn’t a self-proclaimed banner draped across my chest; and I wasn’t one to get a tattoo, which is surprising to say the least.

I was just a guy searching for some answers and along the way, I wanted to help people, something that later in life can cause great stress and turmoil in your soul. That is oft the road less taken, by most, it seems. OK, OK… what did that guy say that either changed my life or did it really happen at all? Here’s the skinny and perhaps it has been your experience as well; hearing this advice. “We are standing in a room with lots of doors and the one you choose will make all the difference in your future… Make sure you choose the right door!” The question remains, “Great! How is one to know which one?” A wise ol’ counsellor in High School once reminded me that we plot our course into the future at a young age. Then he gave me a series of tests, a standard at the time and students perhaps still take them today. These tests would give insight into my aptitudes and from that, we could plan what courses to take, what majors to follow and voila, I would be on the way to security and happy life. Easy right? I laugh now, reflecting on the liquid ease with which advice was given to us mere chunks of putty waiting to be moulded and shaped by our scholastic “maestro”. An easy future… SURE! I don’t mean to sound harsh or cynical about life here...no really I don’t! One teacher once told me as we walked down the hallway one lunchtime, “Never let school interfere with your education!” Now that was great advice.

So, there still remain those doors and the quandary presented by their presence. I’ve seen lots of doors and lots of roads having lots of forks found in them and paths that have held fewer footprints along them. Sometimes the nomadic spirit has called me down a few of those trails only to find that they were rabbit paths to some hole, likely a den, and brought only disappointment. Others thankfully have brought great joy, interspersed by times with the inevitable bout of rainy weather; floods of tears or as many like to call it, “a bit of leaking tear ducts t’is all!” Having chosen one, only to return to the room to once again choose another, you soon learn that no matter the door, life is what you make it and the door is not the problem, it is more about the person who walks through one, that matters.

I’ve told you the old story about the teenager wanting a job and applied at a hardware store, only to find that he was given his first job with the knowledge that it would be on a trial basis. He was taken to an upstairs room and told to clean up and sort thousands of nails, screws, nuts, washer, etc., as a major section of an old bin system had fallen over, spilling out the contents, mixing everything up. He laboured for days and finally at noon came to the owner and said he was finished. The old gentleman smiled and said, “I figured you wouldn’t last, nobody has for a long time, but I thank you for at least trying… you can pick up your pay before you go home!” “Why no”, the young man then said; sir I have finished the job and was wondering what I should do next”. The old man climbed the stairs and finding all in excellent order hired the young lad on a permanent part-time basis, on the spot! You know that when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade… right?

So, where does the idea of diminishing returns come into the picture? Without again seeming too cynical about life, because I am truly not in that frame of mind for sure, there have been those moments. Varied as my past has been, bashed, beaten and defeated on more sides and on more occasions than I like to remember, there has always been a central plea for which my heart has longed. I just wanted to be loved, truly loved. Through all the flaws, warts and shortcomings that I have, not much in my early life brought me too close to that reality and I am not treading that path again. The past behind me a new door opening up before me, I strode off towards a new beginning and ready to make it work. That has been the key to success, (should I define it like that?); it that is how I would want to gauge my life in terms of credence or some level of credibility.

Life can have such great starts and we have everything in fluid motion. All is well until something crashes and burns, and then perhaps there are many moments of doubt. As most of you know by now, it happens to the best of us. Out of the ashes of life sometimes comes the most beautiful of vistas. Maybe a voice has once said, “Strange, in all those years while that lovely house stood there I didn’t know there was such a beautiful vista behind it!” We don’t always see the greater picture. While enthralled in the moments which are adding life and bringing joy, it is oft not necessary to look beyond what is before our faces. Who could know that those childbearing years, with all the struggles out-crowned by the many more joys, could be blessed by a gaggle of grandchildren who bring prayerfully so much joy into our lives, if that is our fortune? I am dealing with life on the edge once again just now. Losing old friends, who are not old, holds little joy, but here once again near the edge and with a clearer unobstructed view, I am at least able to live beyond the pain of the loss and be reminded of the joy of each blessing they have given.

We start life not knowing the future, and we can, (but not always) from time to time get filled up with the best of the best; even so, life never guarantees eternal earthly bliss.  My take on life is that we need only be assured of one future and that has little to do with this world and more to do with faith in the next. I think some days about how easy it used to be to get up each morning, hop into clothing and take on the world. These days, in the ensuing  “golden years” I am more like that piece of prose from an anonymous source, “My get-up-and-go has got up and went!” maybe even wondering where it all went or more to the point how it went so fast and nowadays the unsettling fact that it is going faster all the time. Oh, I can accomplish most of the things I could 20 years ago, but it mostly take me so much longer to do it and I am still dreaming dreams and working on them constantly!

Life never owed me a living, never promised me a great castle in which to live and never once said that I would never cry again. I’ve lost loved ones, agonized over those I loved yet in whom never found love being returned. It’s easy to be crushed by the world's traps and pitfalls, but when the house of cards have crashed about us, there still remains that one thing… a beautiful vista that is the future. I feel my heart pains for others pain and I told a friend of late that this goes with an empathetic spirit. Days do come when you take one step ahead and fall 3 steps back; we gain, we lose, we win and then we lose, we try and then we fail, but life is not a “failure”, never ever. Life is not just a stage and we the men and women upon it. Life is a preparation, a proving ground and those moments when we are filled with joy, have the world by the tail (and not just as fleeting moments), it is proof that good does exists and we are part of its being so (an old way of putting that I realize).

I must remember,” it’s who I am”, a part of a nature that I do not control… it is God-given. Not all memories are great ones, but they are mine to be benchmarks for a final measurement of what life has been.  Moving on by getting up and continuing for as long as God gives me life, is my plan. Little is gained by crying in my soup, if I am to be what I am to be for “the others” still here, still loving and still accepting of all my warts and wobbles.  Today may not be the “best” for you… It may, in fact, be the worst in your mind! But you have been granted today and perhaps a tomorrow… it is a door there to be opened, or many doors. I often say they are as varied as they are many. You must take one, or die in the submission to defeat and that is not your path, it is not your door… God has a greater plan for you!  You’ve heard the saying, “Today is a GIFT that is why it is called the PRESENT”. 

Don’t look down beyond the edge… look up and smile… Can you see it? Perhaps the joys and blessings of what was before you have just hidden something even better, or as much of a blessing, yet to come. Be blessed… Jeremiah 29:11 says,” For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future”.

 All that is left to do is keep on investing in life… it is not a diminishing return no matter the critical state it seems in just now. “Living near the edge is not bad, it has moments of testing, moments of required courage and moments of extreme joy... It's all in how we define the view from there.” I am praying for you!

Lord Take Away the Pain… Or... Just Another Mountain to Cross!

I have been truly blessed in my life. I’ve seen much of North America having travelled with my wife and children through 9 Canadian provinces and 41 American States.  Some of the most magic of moments were found in the mountains, yet put into perspective one particular mountain trip has created for me, a lifetime of pain and discomfort. Not everyone who suffers through knee pain can relate to both the joy surrounding the cause, along with the agony of its presence each day. No, my knee problems do not stem from an accident but were caused by a journey down a steep mountain slope to visit a pastor and his family, on my first visit to Gangtok, in Sikkim Province, which is located in the Himalayan Mountains of Northeastern India. Most consider that stress on limbs might be during the climb up, but for me, it was the descent down a steep, rough goat-type path, which for the Pastoral family, was a norm; multiple trip events, during any day of the week. After several hundred feet of compression on the joints, the damage to both knees was done and the pain was there to stay.

Mountains with their beauty can be beautiful vistas. A dear cousin shared a mountain scene with me this morning and it brought tears to my eyes. It seems that the older I get, the more my heart leaks out through my eyes. I had received news of another critical illness yesterday (another mountainous concern before me) and since I am not one to dodge the issues, I have been writing to both the patient and his support group with words of encouragement, faith, and hope. It takes a lot of encouragement and faith, to reinforce hope in most situations. His case is only one of several that I am touched by these days. It seems that each day news of another old friend, or acquaintance, has been taken ill, and mostly due to cancer. That is a word that brings fear and trepidation to the hearts of most and is affecting more and more people each year.

 Most days, since moving my bedroom to the ground floor of our home, have been much better for pain management. But, there are those days when certain movements bring sharp reminders of what knee damage is all about. But, what of other pain; we know that pain has many forms and not all are so easily managed. In my travels over North America, we traversed several times along the Oregon Trail. In places, you could look ahead, or back, and still see the wagon ruts of those early settlers along the trail, and my heart turned every time to the heartaches that they must have suffered on their journey west to new beginnings. Not everyone survived the journey and the idea of “just another mountain to cross” must have been more than some could endure. How is it that are some able to push on through the pain and others succumb so near the point of victory? We think little about the trials of those early settlers, or the trials of many who surrounding us seem too far out of our own orbit to matter a great deal… Those strugglers may be the ones who remain alone along the trail.

Struggles on the mountains are real. Unlike extreme athletes who train for the pain, the average person meets extreme pain with shock and dismay. Having lived for over 40 years with migraine pain, one would think that this man can likely handle pain. Yes, for the most part, I can. But there are many types of pain and many avenues of suffering that go along with them. A long time ago, some 44 years to be exact, I had daily medical updates on our first son, who was in critical care at the IWK Neo-Natal Unit.  My questions were always foundationally based on the presence of pain. He struggled for 15 days but did not survive, and our hearts felt the first dose of what true pain was and we couldn’t even take an aspirin to stem its unhindered spread throughout beings. That was in 1974 and the questions that we had then will not be answered in this lifetime; plus that never means that the source of that pain will not be repeated.

In 2009 our second son had a seizure while he and his wife were visiting us in the city. It was brain cancer and the words, “I will try to give him 5 good years” have haunted me every day since. My life slides from day to day, fearing the future and yet doing my best to place my trust in a God who has created and promises to sustain. I am a realist, in the sense that I try to face what comes at me with what God has given me for strength, courage and faith. Not everyone will either understand or accept that for themselves, but it is my walk in life. I told a friend the other morning that I chose to answer a call to this walk and there is nothing I can do about it; it is who I am. I fall down hard some days, but God picks me up. I cry as I mentioned, and He dries my tears. I scream from my inner being and He silently awaits my calm to return, so that He can speak to me and be heard.

Lord, can you take away the pain? How many times through the years of hospital, nursing home and private home visits, have I heard that being echoed as well as in my own circumstances? Its intentional meaning stems from various maladies in life. One particular day, while I was on rounds in a Kentville area Nursing Home, a question that haunted me for several years after became an issue. A dear lady, looking at me through dimming eyes, asked me this question, “How long before I can go home?” There was no need for medical interpretation, no necessity for some deep theological or psychological search through years of textbooks for answers; it was straightforward and needed an honest answer. I longed to reassure her, to provide some comforting words to calm her paining heart, but she wanted the truth as I might know it. My identification tag and typical Pastoral greeting had paved the way for her question and I was not about to fudge on any truth adding a buffer of distraction at that point. So I gave her the answer;  a two-fold answer that has been my guide in the ensuing years since that question first arose…”No one knows the answer to that question dear “and “For my part, I don’t think it is something we will ever know if we stick to God’s plan”.

Tears entered her eyes and she was then facing another mountain she must climb and in her mind, and in that moment, she did not want to climb it alone; so we chatted. She had lost her husband about 6 years before and she had been in the nursing home for a total of 9 years and she was very tired. She was not longing for a return to an earthly home, but instead for moving on to her heavenly one. That same question was on my Father’s lips every night for the last several months of his life. Having suffered a stroke in his early 90’s after being so active, his life with a view now from a wheelchair was not one he enjoyed. In looking after most of his needs for months, I soon learned that his longing for eternity became more precious to him, even though he would leave behind his wife and two sons. I held when the time came and reassured him that all would be OK, but my pain felt little relief. Nearly a decade later, I still think of those last moments and what was shared in the quiet of his hospital room. No tears, but an honest assessment of what he wanted, and then the end, and the heartache of losing someone I loved deeply.

Physical and mental anguish often go hand in hand. The first may be a manifestation of disease or injury and the patient who suffers feels something that finds definition in the body’s stress dealing with noted changes. The second is most often twofold if there are others who suffer with those they love. While we watch others in physical pain, our hearts react to the signature evidences of that pain, and it is almost as though we feel that pain in our own body. When we were young we may have had someone scoop us up and kiss away the pain of a skinned knee or elbow, but nothing can simply erase the pain of watching a loved hear the words; “There is little we can do but manage the symptoms and control the pain!” I have been reminded by our son not to feel sorry, sad or become teary around him. Life, he says, is a constant confrontation with the unknown and how we manage that insecurity daily is the test of our faith and the essence of our courage which then produces hope. Those may not be his exact words, but it is the crux of his meaning I am sure. Ben is one courageous man!

Every day we walk near the edge because whether we are aware of it or not, we ARE living near the edge. Just as I reminded that sweet lady many years ago, none of us knows the time; the day or the hour when we may be called into eternity. I realized quickly that I might not outlive my son. Any day, hour, or moment, I could slip into eternity due to ill health or accident. So I try to prepare myself for the mountains, the hard climbs, though each is unique.  And though I sometimes cry out, “Lord, take away the pain” I am reminded that sometimes my request doesn’t get answered that way. Like those wagon ruts on the Oregon Trail, some paths that seem to be our course, we must follow, regardless of how hard the trip might be.

Today I am less in shock, after “more” disheartening news, than I was yesterday. Today I am writing to put my mind back in some semblance of order, that I might regain a tenable equilibrium in my own journey. If my writing helps others, then Praise the Lord! If nothing written thus far seems to touch your heart, please remember this; we are created and maintained by a sovereign God, who knows the outcome and plans the future beyond our comprehension. While we reel from the pain of bad news from others, or from personal illness, God “is” there. Christ asked that the cup of death be taken from him… yet his request was ended with this phrase… “Yet, not my will but thine be done!” Life does not always make sense and it will not always go just the way we plan or want it to, all the time. During the disappointments and trials, we keep on keeping on, with God’s grace to see us through.

God’s grace comes in many shapes and forms. Are you someone that He is using to extend His grace to someone today? Perhaps He is using someone to extend that grace to you! That is living near the edge and the view from there can be scary, but at the same time, it might just grant such calming peace for both the giver and the recipient.

An Old Standard… “The Christmas Wish Book”

Here in North America children could hardly wait for the publishing and distribution of the “Christmas Wish Books” put out by the two major Department stores. Well… there were two as I grew up in Eastern Canada! I am not aware of the advent of the books, but in the 1950s through the 1980s at least, they were a thing of joy, to be awaited by most children, regardless of economic status or cultural background. What held the interest of children during those years, was the seemingly unending well of potential of things to ask Santa for. It was hard to imagine how Santa could carry all those varieties of toys, along with other requests worldwide, to all those children on Christmas Eve. Perhaps, that was not utmost in our minds at the time, but oh what a wonder it all was to receive the notice of that catalog, to be had the next time our parents entered the catalog office in our local towns, or at the nearby Post Office.

Each child had their own way of marking an item to make sure “their” wishes were noted and in many cases, added to the list which Santa would receive before Christmas. No one wanted to be missed and though on many occasions (more than we would want to realize even now perhaps) those wishes did not come true for all. Yet, come the fall of the year, there was a new potential for a list to be made, even if what had been wished the previous year had not been received. Many of us in our country have watched the movie “Miracle on 34^th Street”. In that wonderful Christmas movie, though very fanciful in nature, the mother tells her small daughter not to lose hope, but instead, to keep on believing.

I have often wondered where that bit of reassuring advice has gotten many of the have-nots through the years; those who have looked at the proverbial “Wish Books” of this world, and found life to remain “still lacking” at the end of the day? Do you remember what you looked at, in hope, for Christmas? Depending upon the generation you were born into, your culture, economic situation, and family environment, there could be many variables. I was born into an upper lower class family who had to struggle but made their way at a reasonable level of comfort in life. There were “things” that I wanted as I poured through the Wish Book on its arrival. One year, in particular, I must have been on a pirate theme mode during the pre-Christmas season. I wanted a sword for Christmas. My idea of a sword was one that could be hung on my belt and wielded with gusto at any opposing foe that dared cross my path. At that age, as I was only about 10 years old, it seemed like the “foe” lurked in every corner of the community. I didn’t get what I expected, though I did get a sword. It was ornamental, not as practical as I had hoped.

Is there a difference between getting what we want and receiving practical alternatives that may at the time not seem to fit the bill? Truly, during the moment of discovery, especially for a youngster who has received the “As good as” items, many will try to put on a surprised face, showing a modicum of elation at the thought put into the gift, but there is always a hint of disappointment that is registered. Some may say, it is quite often more than a hint, but I am trying to stay “soft” on my appraisal of the situation. We grow up with hopes, dreams, and desires, which we all register to a certain degree. It is not always enough to receive just the “second best” or “as good as” alternatives for dreams or deep down wishes in life. There are many avenues of advancing our character and not all are the “best” or most helpful. It is up to each individual to make their own way steadfastly into the future, and not all disappointments tend to send us down a better path in life. Disappointments, due to lack of fulfillment of every wish need not be a “game killer” but may merely be a “game changer”… We need to know the difference if we are going to thrive, not just survive.

Back to that sword; I was disappointed, though I tried to laugh while being told that I couldn’t take it outdoors to play. It hung on my bedroom wall for years and is now hanging on our cottage wall where I can see it whenever I visit there. The level of disappointment I felt then has been outweighed by the joy I now feel, being reminded of the care, thought and resourcefulness that my parents put into getting that sword for me. They understood that a real sword, though part of my utopian wish list, might only get me into trouble, far deeper than being bullied by neighbourhood kids. There is a superficiality to our wishes most times that may well border on the ridiculous, to say the least. Have you noted that in your life thus far? We oft base what we want far outside the perimeters of what is reasonable, based on both need and financial viability. I have dreamed (wished for) about many things in life and some of those things which I helped come to fruition, have not always been the best choices for myself or my family in the larger picture. Most would echo some of those same sentiments, I am sure. After all, we are creatures of a hedonistic nature… more is better, and I want what I want.

I digress as per usual! “Game changers” can often be viewed as disappointments, but more often can hold forth great potential for growth. Those Christmas Wish Books were pretty well worn out when Christmas day arrived. Looking back, I know that so was much of the staple clothing which I received the previous Christmas was ending their cycle of life. Under the tree we found new outfits, meaning jeans, shirts, and the necessities that made everyday life a bit more tenable. While not always receiving what we wanted every year, there were those Christmas’ that afforded us new opportunities, or enhanced opportunities, that were quite unexpected. As a youth I skated on a small brook (yes, thin ice!), the ice-covered dirt road in front of our home, and even our driveway, if it was ice-covered in the winter. Now that was hard on skate blades! The year I got new skates that fit, I was allowed to join the neighbourhood kids to go to the “Crusher” to skate. It was a large pond where teens and adults alike gathered to skate, play hockey, and socialize, in a period that spanned many decades, until the town built first a new outdoor rink and then the “new arena” (now several decades old).

Those skates allowed me to reach a new level of proficiency, I learned to play hockey, and because of that, I enjoyed many weekends joining adults playing hockey on nearby lakes and ponds in my teenage years. I was later asked to play on the High School Hockey Team under the tutelage of a gentleman who came from the L.A. Kings farm team and was teaching in our High School at the time. Skates helped expand my athletic abilities, taught me the importance of team effort, a balance taught me the importance of single effort versus playing cooperatively.

Today, (meaning in this time in history) there are still wishes being made. I was surprised when I went to the mail and received a new style “Wish Book” this fall. It was not like the old standbys of days gone by, it was new, up-to-date and all the pages were shiny thick paper, displaying the latest of items to attract the interest and desires of this generation’s children. Our grandchildren came to visit and spent only a short time looking at the book. I was both surprised and interested at first. It did not take long to realize that they had a different set of values upon which they based their wishes. I am not saying that they are “perfect” or above wanting “great stuff” , but they have a sense that there are simple things, within both the reach of their parents and well within the practical needs that they face day to day. Just like the need to have a slate for school in the 1920s, now children grow up with electronic devices that are almost a must if they are to keep up with what is taking place in the classroom. I do not cringe at that reality, for I took on computer studies in 1980 and have never looked back since. So, I have an appreciation for the basic value of having technology that will “help” advance our children, within the confines of education being the main justification driving their purchase and not mere entertainment as a provision for child care to keep them busy and out from under-foot.

Do I wish for anything anymore? Yup! Ok, a bit over the top with my rudimentary vocabulary, but it is realistic… I do say yup! I do also have dreams and wishes that seem like both a good idea and as holding potential for a reasonable dividend in life. My sounding board happens to be my wife, and helpmate, in daily decision making. Lots of things are possible, but just like that “real sword”, not all things are reasonable or tenable in life. I find it necessary most days to take time to “temper” my thoughts, to solidify both my ideals and my ideas on solid ground, beyond those superficialities that tend to creep in. When driven by mere whims, without testing either validity or necessity, we often find a great toll bring taken on our lives.  Over-extending oneself physically or financially can make the difference in how the future advances.

So, do I grab the local “new” wish book after the grandkids have finished looking? No, I stick to an even older standard “wish book” that has always been my guide in life... God’s Word!  There I find the recipe for life that holds within both the wonders of the Christmas Season and the steps on how to gain the gift that gives “Life”; not only in eternity but also in abundance from day to day. I don’t always keep to the program; I like most in life fall down, turn a blind eye, close my hearing to the soft whisper of God’s voice in my daily living, thus missing the mark.  But, I believe, I pray for forgiveness for both what I have done and what I have left undone and even those things that I may not be aware of myself. I don’t believe in Santa Clause! Oh, the shame of it… well, I feel no shame… I believe in a greater gift-giver and try my best to follow the path that will one day take me home to my final rest. Yes, under a Christmas tree will be presents, but surrounding me will be those greater gifts, provided by a God who loves, who has provided, and continues to provide all I need in a family, friends, and supporters who pray for me and mine.

What is found in your “Wish Book” this Christmas Season? Everything in mine is free… yes FREE for the asking. Unlike those “others”, in God’s Word, there are actually two wishes found present. One is God’s wish for us, fulfilled in the “Christ” of the promise given, and the other is His wish to have us worship Him as “King of Kings “and “Lord of Lords” … through that infant King in Bethlehem’s manger. It is not an easy decision for some to realize in their lives. To call upon a “Heavenly Father- God” when their earthly father may have disappointed them, a barrier often more than difficult to both approach and overcome has been erected; it is a powerful deterrent to belief. But, like life’s situations present, there is a need to approach the edge sometimes. There is something that draws most to find answers when the fear of knowing makes the exploration necessary to do so, less than justifiable. But, I find that I need to walk near the edge most days. I get too comfortable in quiet solitude, content to be static, surrounded by what is, and not hearing the voice of life beckoning me outside of my comfort zone. I always need the guiding hand of God… that is the gift He gives; a guiding hand is a great gift indeed, and it will never be found in those old “Traditional Wish Books”, or their modern counterparts today. Will you search for answers in the “Greatest Wish Book” this Season? God still grants wishes… He does for me, as ask I PRAY and ask! Give it a try… there near the edge, it can be scary but the view from there is sure peaceful!

New Dreams Built on Old Foundations

Not all childhoods are spent in an environment with total freedom to explore, while running wild with imagination, and the vastness of primarily secure surroundings. I’ve experienced the other side of the coin; where there seems to be a cheerless, empty survival of the fittest. Not wanting to label such circumstances as void of all context of joy, I am reminded of the smiles on thousands of happy faces, bringing my negative instincts to a sharp halt. Not all joy is found to have the same basis of definition both present, and holding equal validity, for the people finding their own mode of comfort in self-entertainment.  For example; one may love to sit reading in the park, surrounded by serenity with only birds and squirrels as company, while basking in both basic silence away from the bustling crowds, and the solitude of nature. Others may long for the high energy of a crowded city, where the constant movement of both time and progression, gives little room for static indifference to one's surroundings. Even the forgotten elderly there find a reason to have a concern; time brings change and development that become a constant threat to the comfort of familiarity, as transformation in both sustainability, and definition of viable financial expansion, are the driving forces behind most change.

 

In my own 60 plus years of exploration, wandering and simple dream weaving, there have been moments of the overwhelming wildness of nature at its best, while standing near, beside or under some of earth’s best wonders to behold. On the flip side, there have been moments of bitter sadness where a loss of words can be the only explanation for my utter silence. If I were a small child, I know that I would have been standing; squeezing my mother’s hand, trying to fathom the difference between what I had only somewhat understood and what I now realized was the situation of millions of others on this earth. But, here again is the tension found in both understanding our circumstances, and that of others, and in doing so discover the realization that joy is found in innovation within the environment we have. I want to return to that thought in a moment.

In my young adulthood, I asked questions about past generations. I was likely having an awakening, a transformation where my dislike for history faded, as I finally began to find context for both family and community. As I matured and my local human sources for research began to diminish, a new acceleration, in the form of family history and genealogy entered my life. Now present was the true context I needed to bring a more substantive validity to what I had always known to be gnawing at my soul. I wanted to know what stood on those old cellars, those old foundations that were the platforms for new beginnings, while holding in their walls untold adversity, but also laughter in the midst of trial, temptation and hardship. Today, my imagination does not run as wild as it once did, when I could hear laughter while surrounded by old cut stones of family home once erected with such vibrant dreams or while amidst rough gravestones with flowing tears, as I read the names of infant children lost to flu epidemics, then reducing family numbers, as it spread throughout numerous communities during certain years.

But, building new dreams on old foundations is not always about just history alone. I have the good fortune of not just survival, but growth, even through adversity as well. My personal journey has been fraught with challenges, hardships, and pitfalls that have made the journey both challenging and disheartening throughout. Yet like the rest of the world, I have found joys abundant, not dependent upon the definition of others, but in self-definition. It is somewhat like the picture we have in our minds, projected in TV ads in support of the hungry children of the world. They go from crying starving children to happy kids playing with old rims and a push stick, just like I played with in my own childhood. Perhaps I used an old car tire in place of a steel barrel rim; nevertheless I found joy in playing. I have a life-mate (My Wife) who has made the journey both tenable and more importantly satisfying; holding for me possibility more than an average lifestyle that is not based on monetary wealth, but family, friends, and circumstance supported and made possible by untold blessings. That is another story; I digress!

This year has been a year of opportunity. Time and tide wait for no man… or so the old saying relates. But, in the midst of waiting, we find ourselves (if we are seriously supportive of our personal situations… LOL) in a constant mode of reducing, repair or replace; which has been my situation in the past several years of retirement. One of the blessings in our family years ago was the opportunity to have a cottage home during my furloughs from ministerial demands. I know, it was merely a vacation, but our small bit of nature on the edge of beautiful harbour overlooking the great Atlantic Ocean and a remote ancient lighthouse on the tip of a nearly deserted island, became more than a mere retreat. It was, and has remained a haven for healing both physical and spiritual for me and I hope my family. For years we have enjoyed great neighbours across a small section of wooded area, not 100 yards from our summer home. They are precious gems and loving friends. One small cottage below us had been empty since the death of the owner some 17 years ago. That has changed in the past month.

Our cottage (Sumer residence that has turned into a fall residence the past few years) became a viable home with a modern footprint over the years. It is situated in a remote area that was once an active bustling little micro-community with a Post Office, blacksmith shop and a wharf, where fish were landed and perhaps even processed many years ago. Years took its toll and change did take place. Nowadays there are some remaining old homes, some new homes and lots of old foundations, deserted wells, now filled in and even I believe a few scattered tombstones. We embrace the warmth of most of the residents and find comfort in the blooming friendship of our new neighbours who have taken possession of the long-vacant cottage across the field from us.

It is so interesting to meet new folks and find out their ideas on both cottage life and management. We are in an area where wood heat (due to the local availability of the fuel) is second nature to the residents. Our new neighbours are more city-oriented though perhaps somewhat versed about wood heat. I chuckled to find that the gentleman, who loves the woodland, is actually a tree hugger. It is quite the feat to cross the line from the love of maintaining the forest and wanting to burn them for fuel, but the tensions created by that decision may have to be dealt with, as his own woodland holds potential as a resource for his burning needs. Excuse the pun!

Change is inevitable and we have little control over many of those changes. Some of the reason is found in our own lack of watchfulness over what is going on around us and suddenly the overwhelming stress of keeping up, catches up with us. We live in a fast-paced world. We surround ourselves with modern technology, yet we may be leaning toward a more traditional lifestyle that would better suit our personal needs or interest. Moving away from modern, centralized centers, and finding solace, comfort, and healing in a more isolated region, can create a fascinating alternative that calls to one’s basic value of life being lived.

My new neighbour asked about my writing. When the inquiry was made about what the blog was called, he beamed a deep smile as the realization hit that there was a fascinating relationship between the blog tile and the location of our cottage. For both that couple (our new neighbours) and the established friendship of another close neighbourhood couple, only a stone’s throw from us, a strong correlation between the old and the new many be found. Every year the sad moment arrives when my wife and I make our way back to our winter home, leaving behind dear friends and our lovely remote retreat. It has always been my dream to live there full time, but the courage to make that drastic a change, when we have always lived in a more central location, lays heavy upon our hearts. So, for now, we are seasonal residents only. The foundations of our lives are built on faith, hope, and trust. Does that make the insecurity with a move like that questionable if we can talk the talk and not walk the walk? I am reminded that health issues are of concern as well, but others in the area are not immune to those issues either. Our present vehicle cannot cross traverse the rough, rutted gravel roads of spring in the area. So, is it just as easy to continue as we do, rather than rearrange life to live out another dream.

For me, it is part of living on the edge. I have to consider the dreams, needs, and preferences of my spouse and helpmate, as decisions about such things are very important and should be made in concert and not as a unilateral choice. It is a fine line to walk, yet to do anything else seems too great a folly to chance in my life. I find deep solace in the joy of sporadic visits to check out our property and do the maintenance, manicure the lawns and such. I find myself almost driven to construct those items that add both convenience and esthetic value; not that looks means much in an isolated area, but we enjoy the value of how things are kept both at our cottage and our urban home.  I take great joy in hearing the words of the former owner as he said, “You are doing all the things here that I dreamed that I might someday do years ago!” That was 25 years back, and it still has great meaning for me as I consider building new dreams on those old foundations, once so important to the original family, who owned over several generations, much of the area surrounding where our cottage Is located.

It takes much courage to take a leap of faith. Our new neighbours told us that the decision was not an easy one to make. There are so many variables, so many stumbling blocks that can crop up, but it was a combination of a beautiful vista, a dream to reduce the business of life and believe it or not two sets of wonderful, open, helpful and receptive neighbours. It does not take a rocket scientist to figure out that the true recipe for both comfort and joy in neighbourhood is being what you expect from others. We live life alongside an ocean that is constantly changing.  Such is life and as the waves of change along with the tides of time bring new experiences, we learn to take a few chances building new dreams, even if they are only in small steps at a time. With faith and reliance upon God, and those He places along our paths, many of those new dreams can and do come true. New dreams can be built on some very old foundations and the view from there, though challenging, can be magnificent.

“Lest We Forget”… Yet We Do!

“I remember”…. What a great note to start on eh! (My Canadian heritage kicking in… eh!) At a very early age, I accompanied my Dad to the Remembrance Day Services in our town. It was something that was made very special by our school system even back then. Each year it seemed that there was a level of pride in being able to remember and quote the epic poem “In Flanders Fields”. I am not altogether sure just when I memorized the poem… and that is part of the problem. “Stuff” clogs our days with both duties and experiences; many of which are self-actuated or within the realm of expected responsibility taking into consideration our individual circumstance.

You likely understand that I write, and am read, cross-culturally. I have had the opportunity to experience the unknown variables of language and ethnic definition, that I faced (and that others face) as we interacted on various levels; being social, academic and business. It was an eye-opener on many fronts and my ability to adjust, or acclimatize, was tested on more than one occasion. One example that has had a lasting effect on me is the value of family and the higher achy found within. In my North American Anglo-Saxon environment, there are many variables, and they express themselves freely within limits of moral and social customs. I digress!

Life, in whatever culture, is filled with duties, expectation and moments of personal time, as we live out our lives. This present North American generation lives in a different level of economic climate than those did before us. The only parallel might have been found in the post Second World War era in the United States, where an “economic boom” changed the lives of millions. That is not to say that everyone in North America is financially “SET” and has abundant cash to spend… that is a misnomer held by some that I have met in my travels and is not true any more than it is in most other cultures. We spend valuable time, as best fits the situation, within both present environment and those cultural expectations by which we identify ourselves trying to live within our means.

I have been amazed while travelling in other countries, that there have been various methods of recorded history for instance. In some cultures, even in N.A. there was or perhaps still is, a substantive importance placed oral history. It took a lot of time to memorize the details, yet it was done. Today people are becoming interested in both family and the roots found in genealogical research. There are many avenues to do research and not all are both accurate and reliable. I have been researching the genealogy of my family since I was asked to take over from my Mom about 30 years ago. She wrote letters, made phone calls and made personal visits in her quest to find answers to the questions arising from her searches. Today things have changed, and with those changes that have come, searches have been made easier; though inherent within these new avenues, comes inaccuracies that are not easy to overcome for the fast-food mentality of N.A. society today.

In dealing with genealogy I am frustrated with inaccurate information being proliferated by those who decide not to take the time to do further research. People often take information found at mere face-value, and this becomes part of the history relied upon by following generations. I caution many who have contacted me for information and I remind all that most information beyond 3-4 generations can be suspect without accurate source material. One example is found in the errors found in vital statistics in many generations over the years. There will always be someone, who for whatever reason, does not undertake due-diligence in their method or accuracy in the collection of the stats for demographics in certain areas… and … those areas may fall within the scope of our research.

Still digressing…. LOL! My Dad served overseas, in the Armed Forces, during the Second World War. He lost a much younger brother, late in the closing year of the war. He died as a prisoner of war as he worked in a bombed arms factory which was destroyed by friendly fire. It greatly affected my Dad who was then working in Aldershot England, with the Royal Canadian Electrical and Mechanical Engineers. While he was preparing for the invasion and repairing all types of mobile unites, my uncle was in the heat of the battle. I think that bothered my Dad and he talked little about the war for many years. He remembered his brother, other family members, neighbours; the others who lost their lives in battle while he stayed basically safe in England.

So, we attended the service for many years together. He marched the sloped mile, up to his 90^th year, from the local Royal Canadian Legion to the cenotaph in our town. Finally, the service was moved inside, as our ageing soldiers found it difficult to both walk the distance and stand for long periods of time. In his later years, we attended even as he needed a wheelchair, following a stroke. The numbers of veterans were diminishing and old friends were passing away, still he wanted to attend. The wonder of it all is that though we live in a small town the numbers of attendees have not diminished. There is a desire to remember on that special day each year. The question arises; do we remember what exactly it is that we are remembering? For many it is a certain family member; mostly within a generation or two at most. Toddlers who help their parents, as they make their way to the now mobile cenotaph (brought in for the occasion) with a wreath in memory of fallen ones, have little or no realization of what it is all about. I often wonder how many of those parents tell the stories of their veteran (family) relation that has perhaps been shared with them, while living memories remained sharp and accurate.

Someone was told lately that I had a living memory of my Dad’s experiences overseas. While there is a level of truth to that, as I can quote both his regimental acronyms and his personal identification numbers, there is more to it than just a few smatterings of information. Grandchildren may need to know regiment and other information surrounding his enlistment for university applications. But most are reticent to take the time to learn more of who their granddad was and what he did to serve both queen and country (both of which are of less importance in following generations) in his personal emotional war, well inside the experience of serving overseas in WWII. Life in England, I found much later, was very important to my Dad. He went back in the 1980s to visit the family he stayed with in Wales, while on furlough during his 1940-45 deployment. That Welsh family gave him hands-on support, when immediate family could not, due to his being separated from them by the Atlantic Ocean.

He told me stories that will forever be etched in my mind, and in their sharing, they made it possible for me to remember the importance of being aware more than only one day of the year. They have become part of my own identity as his son, and the heir to his memories and the legacy of freedom, which he helped to gain for me and the following family. I am not sure what he was expecting on his return to England and Wales. He found a new situation present both economically and socially. He found in Wales a new family, though interested in his coming, (as they had invited him to come) busy with their lives, and the social and familial life which he had known in the 1940s were then absent. Only the oldest of the children in that family remembered that he had been there. The daughter of the hosting family was still living and still maintained, along with her husband and family the farm that had been home to him while on furlough. He struggled to remember through the changes that had taken place, and after only 3 weeks of a 4 week planned trip, he returned home. He seemed satisfied that he was able to have made the journey back, but I think he realized that with time comes change and change reminds us that memories are made relative by an active remembrance of what was, not by what may now be present.

Thus as I watch the youth of today carrying wreaths and crosses to the cenotaph each year, I wonder what those moments will mean to them in 20 years’ time. I take time to revisit the experiences our veterans, as I watch videos of recorded history from those periods. I am happy that our school systems still invite members of the local legions in to talk about their history, and the history of those deployed in various wars even since WWI and WWII.

I skipped our Sunday Service this year to attend the cenotaph service in our local community. While there I was accompanied by two of my children and their families. Our oldest daughter and her family could not attend this year due to other commitments in their church. I wonder how long before there will be no record of even my own voice reminding my family of my Dad’s request, and my following plea… “do not forget! “

I stand and listen to myself and others around me, echoing in response that familiar phrase from the Veteran’s service, “WE WILL REMEMBER THEM!” Not so long ago, in terms of human history, someone else gave a life, so that others might live. The Christ of “Golgotha” was a singular warrior in a much different battle. He was the only soldier needed, the only soldier capable to fight that universal ongoing battle against indifference to the Creator. I stand in church weekly and ask myself, “Who will there be to remember in 20 years?” as I watch the attendance at Sunday Service become less and less important to today’s generation.  I know that God is sovereign and in the master plan, I know little of where the future will turn around, other than at Christ’s return. Till then I choose to remember. Like Joshua of old (24:15) I echo his sentiment, “… as for me and my house we will serve the Lord!” I think constantly about how I let down my own children too often when I hear the words of that old familiar hymn, “Tell Me the Stories of Jesus”.  One verse states “… write on my heart every word, tell me the story most precious, sweetest that ever was heard.” Thankfully, each of my children carries with them the presence of both the meaning and the value of Christ present, now and then. They remember the Christ in their daily lives and I pray it is not out of convenience, but from a love that is reciprocated back to Him from which it has come.

It is not easy to remember even the important things. It is living on the edge and there are many distractions which can send us spiraling down into a hedonistic life, isolated from that which has been not only an important past, but remains integral to our futures. “I will remember them!”  Lest I forget! Take a walk on the edge… it may be your most important walk.

Sometimes Shoes Can Make the Man!

"He was dressed as if everything he wore had come from different stores or from a rummage sale, except that the crease in his trousers was sharp and his shoes were shined." 

Author: Beverly Cleary. As a writer of fiction, I think Beverly Cleary likely had a great sense of the obvious. It is easy for us so called everyday folks, to saunter through life with great expectations, minoring on the mundane things of life, while paying little attention to those around us. While our thoughts on design may be more eclectic in nature, such as wearing different colored socks or even different shoes for instance; we have entered an area where there is a sense of a new freedom that aims at self-definition, unlike perhaps any other time in history. Am I saying that today’s generation is more self-absorbed than that of previous ones? Well, perhaps so, but not to the extent that times have changed so much that human nature has taken a drastic downward spiral. It would be easy for me to just conclude, as it is the nature of some to do perhaps, that my generation is the cause of all that seems horrible (while basically only changes taking place) in the world today.

I remember from my youth that my grandparents, along with many others of that era, were heard to state that their generation and the next, were going to the dogs. I grew up in a changing era like most have. No matter the place or time in which you live, there are always changes. It is dangerous to generalize with such a statement, but I am quoting from the era in which my childhood took its cues. From my youth, I am reminded of my first knowledge of a local murder, and then the Cuban Missile Crisis, that just happened to be acerbated in our area by the fact that we had some huge fuel storage facilities just a mile or so from town.  The fuel held in those tanks, used to refill our Navy ships, could easily make that installation become a target on the east coast. The youth of that time began to feel an urgency to move toward a different outlook in life. It became the time of dissent, a moving away from the status quo and into a freedom highly misunderstood by the previous generation.

This was a confusing time, when the reaction to a world that seemed bent on destruction, and was peopled  with a generation who still remembered the tough times in the awakening of the 20th century; folks who lived through a depression and some through 2 World wars by this time. Some had just returned from the Korean War, and it seemed like conflict would never end. Children of that generation found new freedoms, were spoiled (as many would see it) by a new economic surge that not only tolerated inflated living, but promoted it. Children in some instances had more than they needed, and many cases, they got whatever they wanted. The process of evaluation took on new meaning, or had the debilitating effect of having no meaning at all.

I remember walking through the Boston Commons in the late 1960’s. It was a time when reactionary pursuits were part of the norm for the so called “Now Generation”! For much of rural Eastern Canada, where I grew up, the full realization of its meaning, or the possible effect on how society may one day reflect its influence on our lives, was hazy at its best. People, post-Second World War, wanted something better for their children, but were in fact feeding them the idea that more is better, that there was little or no meaning in the value of what was before them; everything became expendable or replaceable. This began to translate into a synthesis of complicated issues surrounding the value of the future and so youth of that era began to live for the moment.  That sadly included many of the subliminal changes in lifestyle, moral and ethical evaluations for daily living as well.

I have had cause to wonder myself about the changes that have taken place, as my wife and I struggled to raise a family amidst the complacency and over-indulgence of a society bent on what we felt was merely a self-gratification gone awry. I have to freely admit that it is easy to slide into that fashion of living and not even realize that it is the path we are taking. But, what is my reasoning for these thoughts at this time in my life? Am I merely falling into a pattern, historically seen throughout past generations where the seniors of society see a falling away that brings alarm and fear to their hearts? The “going to the dogs” evaluation has both its realistic undertone, holding some degree of truth, and a misconception of both the diversity and resilience of each following generation.  How we view the times, evaluate the potentials and the processes by which each generation formulates and carries out its mandates, reflects our image of where things are headed in the future.

Don’t get me wrong! It is important to watch the processes and have watchdogs who can evaluate in both context and potential. Otherwise we will end up with situations such as the world has seen before in the midst of both cruel and meaningless conflict, due to a runaway liberalism that lead to overindulgence and calamity for the world at large. Hedonistic pursuits at any level of society can lead many or all into situations that become detrimental to culture as whole. But, I digress… It is not wrong to want change, but change should take place to make things better. We find ourselves today overwhelmed and drowning much of the time trying to decide which modifications, in many of the facets or our daily lives, are both untenable and distracting. Transformation at too fast a pace adds confusion, and believe it or not, distrust of the system. Let us not become a society of cynics or unbelievers, all because we are let down by fast-paced, overrated change in almost everything, that previously was felt to be a standard in our lives.

So, you ask, why elude those shoes in today’s rant? Well, shoes are merely a reflection of some of the foundational factors of our basic philosophies.  Each of us has some level of standards, but each of us needs those foundational principles that hopefully keep us grounded, and secure in identifying both who we are for personal reasons, and for practical interpretation by others. Does it really matter if we wear a bowtie or a necktie to a formal gathering? Today’s eclectic interpretation of the norm may be more restricting than you might think. While the lobbyists advance the cause of much of the backroom deals in both business and politics, we are still under the watchful eye of the mainstream of middle-class society in this generation of boomers and the millennials. One writer considers the proposition that the latest generations will consider even more strict references to political correctness, which may, in fact, translate into the laying down of a narrower tolerance for many of our more fragile and perhaps abused standards.

Going back to the quote found at the beginning of today’s blog; how we feel about the dress codes of today, being tolerable or fashionable, may not mean as much as those more corporate reflections, on the level of care taken to be both neat and tidy, as a norm in our more formal presentation. I can remember from my youth a gentleman who worked at a labour job, but wore a white shirt, tie and vest, every day to work. He polished his shoes every day and took great pride in being the best reflection of his personal standards, that he could muster. My question might be then… Is that wrong? While not everyone can or will appreciate such a view, there is a level of respect that one gets, seeing a person who, while reflecting his/her level of economic status/prominence/influence, still takes pride in presentation, by way of preparation. I know that fashion will often be directed by those fads where the unkempt look supersedes the norm of bygone days, but hey, have you noted that even the commercials we see on TV still reflect the need to be both stylish and tidy.

I am not ready to write-off every manifestation of fashion and design just yet. I also cling to the desire so far not to write off each coming generation, as those who are going to the dogs. I don’t understand every whim and wisp of change that seems necessary today (a grand understatement I am afraid) in most facets of our lives, but that is merely a reflection of my age and a lack of response to both the vastness and speed of change taking place. I am no longer capable of the resilience needed to keep everything in perspective like I used to, but that is OK… I have children who fix my cell phone and tell me that I am almost there; being one step from a nursing home! LOL. Do I want to look as though I am aware of respect on Sunday morning, as I go off to Church? Yes! Do I feel the need to wear a black suit and tie? No! But, I do want to reflect the fact that time with God, on this day is different, not just another moment at the workshop; unless there is a particular reason for a total dress-down level of code, for that occasion.

I find it hard to always know the difference, I admit. Knowing when to feel uncomfortable for someone else and when someone may be feeling uncomfortable because of me, does make a difference in my life. I am not one to tie myself to expectations too much anymore, but they are a part of life for all of us, and we can’t just walk away thinking that is matters not, because it does, at one level or another. Being our brother’s keeper still holds a lot of credence in life, whether we like it or not. We know what goes around, eventually comes around, and if we plant, we shall reap what we have sown. So be kind to that individual who may seem a bit mismatched in his/her choice of clothing (or lifestyle), but also do take time to have a look at the shoes… there you may find a bit of reflection on the relationship between care and situational presentation. A rush to judgement may not offer us some great potential for personal growth, by too quick a negative evaluation. In the walk of life, surprises come in many wrappings, and some of those surprises could change our life for the better. It is like walking near the edge, it is important to know both limits and parameters. Never rush at anything, be aware of both who you are and where you are going with decisions. And, before we get too involved in the critical judgement of situations or even of others, look long at the shoes. But don't be too quick to rush at self-judgement either, believe me, from my life's experience, there are plenty who will do that for us.