Hard Hats Required Beyond This Point!

It was something that I got used to. It was no good to argue the point, as it was merely a matter of personal safety and corporate liability. You can justify almost any personalized argument you have going on silently within, but a sharp knock on the skull can be avoided if your hard hat is on your head, should you be in under a falling object that may do damage. In the winter, as I worked on a wharf project, in my earlier years, that hard hat had a liner with ear protection from the cold. Floating on a Styrofoam raft on open, choppy, harbour frontage, drilling holes for very long bolts, one needed to be both safe and somewhat warm. But oh the sweat when winter turned into summer and that hat created a dome of suffering. No wonder so many of my construction friends were going bald… my take on the situation!

In later years, in the electrical trade, it was to be worn only on larger projects. It was a matter of personal taste on private jobs, but when contracts were being met; hard hats were required by all who… went beyond that point! One never tires of memories… or I don’t anyway. Perhaps it is the time of life that I find myself in. These past weeks have been busy with both work and company. There have been moments of required reflection, but also many of spontaneous laughter while others reminded everybody present of times gone by, and why they were of importance to them. But, like life has a way handling time, there was soon that turning the tide of laughter to the ebbing of that joy, being replaced by heartache and worry; yes those emotions have been present as well.

As I sat in church on Sunday, we were given an overview of the needs surrounding that particular community. A statement was made about the overwhelming presence of cancer these days. While disease such as cancer is scary, and may, in fact, cause death for some, there are so many other factors in life that we are just overburdened with during much of our waking hours. I have written in the past of the worries and concerns of today’s family units. Little is hidden from view with Social Media these days, giving a forum to those who are in the pain of mere subsistence. They rail out against the inconsistency and inadequacy of a government that is supposed to protect and serve us with both fairness and equality for all; now leaving them adrift in disillusionment and fear.

Today, my thoughts are on track with growing up. My childhood was blessed, no matter the negative reflections that sometimes make their way into my own heart. Evil will destroy the joy, that lives might be upset and destruction become the victor… “Hard hats required beyond this point.” I was tiny for my age; I’ve related that on other occasions. Were you tiny, too tall, a tad heavier than most, or like me needed to turn around several times to cast a shadow? Were you the person voted least likely to be Prom-queen or King of the hill in some of those childhood games? How about never being invited to the parties, last to be called on to join in, and then only when they just needed one more player so the game could go on? There are countless ways which life deals its hammering blows to our psyche and cause us to stumble, just as though we had been hit over the head with a hammer.

Wouldn’t it be great if, like those fairy tales that I pray were read to all of us in childhood, could actually be paralleled in our own lives? Some days I wallow about like “Donkey, in Shrek “, who when looking down cries, “I don’t have any toes… I think I need a hug!” I have wondered from time to time what the importance of those fairy tales was, when it seemed to me as I began to mature, that life began to shove its reality into my face, (far remote from any of the “the good guys always win!” concept of how life could be lived) and the question “why” rang louder by the day. Teenagers question everything, don’t they? Their minds are being shaped, moulded and clouded (did I just say that?) from every side. Yes, shaped by experience, molded by the first waves of ethic; first parental (hopefully moral) and then society’s oft times perverted sense of what can be done or gotten away with (perhaps more these days than in my youth!) Finally, they are clouded by the masked grey issues being tossed about, concerning their identities, need for structure and a foundation of faith.  The laissez-faire attitude of yesteryear has been replaced by a more sinister rebellion sparked by what we called in the 1980’s New Wave Philosophies.

I have found that youth need direction in their lives, they long for structure, but they battle against it. It is their nature. Built into every living creature is that desire to walk, run, fly or just know independence beyond the innate desire to survive.  Why then does there suddenly arrive that rebellious nature in most teens,  that is most often countered by a parental stubbornness, fired by hurt and angst? It is the natural progression of life!

My dear old Mom was a philosopher in her own right. Her take on life was that she would rule the roost until the rooster grew its outer feathers and began to strut. I am laughing as I write. Mom had a corner of the deck enclosed with old storm windows to protect her from those prevailing westerlies, that she called her chicken coop! She decorated it with … yup… poultry signs and she was known as the ol’ hen and Dad was the ol’ rooster (or similar label… not sure at this point… maybe I don’t want to remember! LOL).  She felt that life calls on us individually to find our way, and like the eagle that pushes the chick from the high nest to learn to fly, at some point there is that push needed for our human chicks. We may have many reasons to cling, including financial, physical and physiological ties, but there must come a time, and it shall come, whether we are ready or not.

In a conversation one day I was told, “Keep your sorrows and trials at home! Dad and I are too old to take on anyone else’s worries!” While shocked by the immediate response I got, I was finally able to consider the truth of wisdom. It was not many years later that on the turning of the tide, she said, “But we have grown to depend on your being here for us… what will we do now?”...  It is a shock on all fronts when the safety of childhood, or the support in later years shifts, leaving both worries and doubt to fix its claws into our joy!

My children know that I have worn many hats, besides the hard hats needed on construction sites. In fact, just the other day, in a conversation with the company who had dropped in for a few days, from some distance away, my daughter stated that I had re-invented myself so many times that it must be hard for me to remember them all. While the former has some level of truth, the latter leaves me wondering if I am teetering on the cusp of an invite to forced entry into a nursing home! LOL Those transitions from childhood to teenager, and on through the various levels of maturity; each carries with them the potential of their own set of trials. We enter into the zones of life where… “Hard hats are required beyond this point!” It is not enough to say that with each set of stresses comes a newfound immunity to the backlashes of life. Like the falling snow in winter, much of what we go through carries with it cumulative effects. We can’t always duck the things we see coming. Ask those in the workforce who suddenly after 23 years of work, and just short of their full pension, are given a separation notice as the plant goes into receivership, or just closes after a corporate decision to move the physical plant to a third-world country supplying cheaper labour!

Youth today are confronted by change, change that scares them, change that they are not prepared for, but change that nevertheless they have been longing for in life. Parents have to release, and yet support! They do so by either financial, if unable in any other manner, or with moral support while nudging with love, their fledgelings outward and hopefully upward to wings of success; a success that matches their calling!

It’s a tough world, no matter the position in which we stand. Joy is countered by tribulation and we duck and defend, roll and counter, or we may get hit by that which may stun or even end life if we do not wear the hard hats provided. So, is there a key to the secret of success, a definition both easy to explain and simple to carry through with, beyond the analogy used of a physical hard hat in life. Oh yes, there is. But like most of life, it involves choices.  Going to the ice cream parlour, for a triple cone on a hot day, is like inviting disaster to say the least. You know that heat will collapse that delight and still, you order it up, and are willing to take the chance.  Licking, biting and slurping to keep back the flowing tide of melting goo, you do your best to conquer the task before you! You may end up with a napkin and hands that are a bit sticky, but you’ve enjoyed the challenge and have done your best! You might have stayed home and taken some from the freezer, but where is the fun in that!!!

Going out on some limbs are just plain fun, others are just plain stupid and sometimes you find yourselves placed out there while you watch the tree being chopped down.  In any case, the limb may break. We are the recipients of the results of folly, but also that of life being brought to our door un-invited. When the door opens we have choices! Mom said when life hands you a lemon, make lemonade. Oh, the reductionism of such statements. But, is there not a tad of truth held therein?

Absolutely; the pastor said in his message, “Let it be and then be free!”  OK... another tortured attempt to side-step reductionism again that failed. No… it didn’t, not really! In churchese (the language of those who are steeped in Church terminology), the phraseology used may often need to be translated to be fully understood. There is a directive that again means little to those who are struggling, until they let go; throwing up their hands in submission, finally realizing that what is facing them is bigger than who they are, or what they are capable of. Let's consider this for a moment.

Dr. Eugene Peterson wrote a paraphrase in contemporary language of a statement that Jesus made in Matthew 11:29-30. It says: “… Walk with me and work with me… watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." Some will be more familiar with the NIV that states it this way:”… Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

I don’t know how people cope every day without either faith or hope in Christ? Some reading this will not understand, others may immediately reject, but hope in Christ adds a dynamic to the faith that otherwise may leave one reeling without direction… lost, in other words. I put on “THE HELMET OF SALVATION”… some might add “of life, hope and truth”! This is my hard hat.

That happy face is not always possible either, but as this little caricature shows, preparedness can go a long way towards a new level of joy! No matter what befalls me I am secure. I walk to the edge, sometimes beyond a reasonable comfort level out there, in service; I have in fact from time to time fallen over and once fallen hard! But, no matter what, my faith in God, in Christ my Saviour, has me living, kept me living, when I thought all hope was lost!

We spend our lives walking into those areas… the truth is, they can’t always be avoided. What do you have for protection against the storms in life? If you are just muddling along, dodging, while catching up some salves to control the open wounds, why not just stop... Yes, just stop! Is the path you are on the only path and are your needs mentally and spiritually really being met? Walk over there… over there to the edge… see not with your eyes, but with your heart… Ask these two questions… am I succeeding in what I am doing my way and the second, Lord, will you help me surrender if I am no longer able to carry this burden? You might just be surprised at the answer you get! But, it is your choice. Meanwhile, I am praying for you!

You’re Killing Me Here

There is little doubt that most have felt both overwhelmed and outdone by either the world or their part in the big scheme of things.  I have been awakened in the midst of the strangest dreams. One reoccurring one, which haunted my career in ministry and throughout the time spent in various administrative roles, was that of having failed grade-four mathematics.  I was being contacted by my old elementary school principal and instructed to return to spend the next year to upgrade so that I could finish my school curriculum. That being said, I had already finished an undergrad degree and a masters as well. I used to wonder if there was something that I had missed, perhaps a piece to the great puzzle of life that I had overlooked.

Life often settles into cycles or rounds of experiences, and when diversity in challenges comes, we are not always aware of the inner struggles associated with the accompanying vagaries. It seems most important to settle into the roles we are given, asked to undertake or may be expected to commit to. A dear friend of mine once said; “Be careful the dragons of expectation”.  I never fully understood that until my life’s flow got interrupted by too many expectations. It is easy to find oneself in the midst of a field of roses only to find that the thorns there might be a hindrance to their true beauty, and in fact be the cause of your inability to go further, or perhaps even to turn back.

Many of us struggle within our silent battle with depression. It is a silent battle because, throughout the greater part of life, we are told it is a sign of weakness, and the world bends its ear to the more stable, reliable, stronger individuals who will cope no matter the level of stress under which they are placed. We become adept at the façade which presents the greater personality, the master of one’s destiny and the leader of persons in need of leadership.  I have written before of the overwhelming unawareness of the various facets of depression. I will only mention one here as my thoughts turn to my focus in today’s blog. If you have never known this feeling, you are blessed… it is the paralysis of depression.

While in my teens I had the normal struggles of keeping up with those my age. I was athletic, outgoing, not totally ugly in appearance, but I was unusually short for my age and as my Mom once told me; “You need to turn around twice to make a shadow!” While pouring myself into work, church and sports I found that I was always last chosen and first dismissed. With a final growth spirt I joined the ranks of the many but found myself out of synch with the crowd. My faith was my anchor, and in service, I found both solace and a peace that only God could give. But depression was an enemy of faith!

Echoes of Biblical men reminded me that others suffered and survived. Christ himself though Divine in nature, facing the awfulness of His calling, while in human flesh. But depression is a personal matter, it is one’s personal struggle; it is both an enemy of reliance upon God and a cauldron of fear for those who face its presence each day. I have been blessed that while in the midst of life’s worst moments, I have had those who walked beside me and prayed. Others have laughed and helped me to smile through floods of tears, while some have in silence hugged and went on their way.

Identifying the person who may be in such a state of mere endurance in life, is not easy. One can become adept at producing a smiling face, laughter that invites others in, while the heart still cries through its loneliness, which seems unabated by mere presence. But, God be praised… we are never alone! Have you ever met someone, and without knowing it, you became engaged in conversation that made all the difference. It was a God Moment! While Satan is plotting, God is providing!

Some years back, on one of my India trips, I was with a group who visited an emporium in Mumbai (formerly Bombay) to purchase some trinkets to take home. Several things happened. We were all confronted by the children and adults who worked the streets of the city. Regardless of the pre-warning we received, it was a hard pill to swallow, not allowing the many, many who approached you for help to be let in... we were protected? One young girl, carrying a baby, approached me with a cry saying; “Hungry”! The child was, we were warned not hers, but had been stolen, and this girl worked under a handler. Yet as she held forth that baby, which was itself crying, it took all I had to acknowledge the perhaps millions more like her, surrounded us. In the paralysis, I felt the pain of being moved away, yet still allowed myself to be drawn along by our agent, in that moment of contact. My mind shed its own tears and I thought… Is God providing, yet I am not giving?

The agent, our translator and the group entered the interior and walked through the areas of various stalls where goods were being sold. Men shouted in broken English coaxing us to buy their wares. We stopped at one vendor who sold the type of items which we were searching for. After many attempts to direct our purchases and my attempts to keep any of the others from being fleeced… the vender cried out; “You are killing me here!” Then he laughed, spoke almost perfect English, and told us he had studied in England. He made lots of sales that morning and gifted each of us with a small jade elephant before we left, making the plea for us to return and buy some more. That day held both ends of a spectrum of emotions that changed my life forever.

I’ve tried to put God in a box… tried to identify, understand, justify actions and activities that He has chosen for my life and the lives of my family members. There had to be a reason, some direction that I could master and therefore still be the commodore of the ship I seemed to be sailing; after all, I knew how to steer the (a) boat… I am a sailor… a good sailor! But good sailors must sail through squalls that could sink the boat, must rely on navigation that they neither designed nor perfected. We cry out and promise God that for the rest our lives we will only follow Him, if he will but save us… and I wonder… does God say; “You’re killing me here!”

 … We did… in Christ… and we forget that. Like some of those greats, mentioned in Scripture… we may take on some great warriors and find victory, but have personal defeat, if we do not give every ounce, every breath, every decision and every plan over to He who created and He who sustains. It takes a depressed person’s every ounce of strength to move again, past that paralysis even when God speaks, but there is no choice left… “I have prepared the way… YOU TAKE IT!” IT may be a spiritual translation of what is happening within.

In the flesh, we fall down… can you hear it… THAT PHASE? “You’re killing me here!” If we do that, how can God still love us? We begin to question why did He not protect us from ourselves when all we’ve wanted was to walk with Him, serve Him and honour Him? Job’s story perhaps has part of an answer, but the crux of it is found within ourselves… our being wrapped up in self, in self-reliance, self-assurance and in some extreme case self-indulgence… Our carnal mind says, “we’ve survived this far and all we need from You God is merely  that for which we are now asking.” Was that not part of Paul’s request? Some may argue that it is reductionism in its worst projection, but the human flesh is weak and it MUST be God who keeps us strong!

I’ve walked as close to the edge as I ever want to be… I’ve entered into situations and places that have both terrified me and crushed my desire to continue. I like Elijah have run from the foe that was for the greater part of the truth “myself”, and have hidden in the caves of despair and disappointment, in fear for my own life. Once we take the reins and ask God, only to keep up us, we court disaster, despair or even worse, failure to be what He wants us to be. That places out there alone, but we aren’t really!

Did you read that? You are not alone; others are gathered, praying to a God of love, compassion and forgiveness… for YOU! No matter what part of the edge, or even if you have fallen over that edge, God is there to pick you up and remind you that the price paid, in His death on the cross, (in Christ) He has set you free, not from the guilt you carry, but from the penalty you faced. I breathe because of God’s love; I move because of God’s love, I carry on because of God’s love… He can do that for you. On the edge are you? Take a long look around… Can you see one blessing? One blessing makes it worth the challenge… No blessings in view… Not even one? Close your eyes… now breathe! Can you feel it… that air entering your lungs… that is God breathing the breath of life into you… you ARE blessed!

Learning the Language

It was the best of times and it was the worst of times! I didn’t do very well in High School. There were many linking factors, but I will mention only 3. In our family, we were taught that hard work, focused on earning a living and based mainly on 2 secondary, yet essential elements, would make all the difference in life. There was never a long chat about either of these important fundamentals to a successful life, until after I was married. Oh, I got the frequent lecture about dedication to what was right, meaningful and necessary, but not before I had made a choice to follow my heart and not just a mindless dedication to empty adult labour. I left a job that I had had for several years; I was married, had children and a mortgage, which meant responsibilities and that was unforgivable. I later learned that I was seen as a failure in life. Those were harsh words and did nothing to either lift or support one in life’s endeavours. I digress! Those two secondary elements that could be applied were constancy and consistency. It seemed to others that I was perhaps failing in both!

While traversing through my early education, I stumbled along with poor management of my available resources. I nevertheless did make it through, and fortunately, there were those in my educational journey who saw, for some reason, more potential than I did. I have often related that my two majors in school were girls and sports. The girls were never too much of a success in my teen years and sports played a major role until I needed to get a job, which included after school hours that were needed in order to make working worthwhile. So this brings me to the 3 factors, to which I have alluded already, the first being sports, then girls and finally work. I was good at sports, but when work precludes any hope of being available to take part, then that major peters out. Being disqualified from continuing in my advancement in sports and then delimited by the need to work, I lost also ground with girls, until I met my wife to be.

But education was not totally lost on me! What the administration saw in me was an innate ability to take in information and file it for future use. I did, like most people, have deficiencies and mine was the fear of written tests. You probably know, or have heard of someone, who is just like that, maybe you are yourself. The odd thing was that I loved to learn. I read things that most didn’t; I explored science, technology, and my mind was a constant canvas of ideas and possibilities. That by some was seen to be my downfall. I was a radical, a dreamer and would not amount to much. But words, once foreign became of second nature to me and I often wrote both prose and papers on philosophical matters confronting both myself and others in my sphere of experience. Most were eventually burned, as I felt the pressure to perform according to other’s expectations, rather than my own. I was obdurate and lacked focus… I was becoming sanctimonious and obtuse, but I had to learn the language of dissimulation to see through the fog of criticism in order to find my own path. How’s that for a mouth full of academic criticism. I again digress, but with some forethought!

The road to adulthood, and then finally some level of wisdom in old age can be long and arduous, but much can be learned from its passage. In my early pastorates (churches where I ministered) there were three kinds of people. First, there were those who loved to dissect/analyze my messages; to correct miss-pronounced/misused words, correct my use of verb tenses and sometimes Biblical references. These were the teachers, who in their mind would make me a better person/pastor. Second, there were those who loved to chase rabbit paths in their minds, when something early on in the message or study sparked an incident or problem totally unrelated to the meaning or direction of the presentation. These dear folks were the searchers who felt that an answer might be found in questions, about their focus in life, rather than the immediate meaning of what God had for them, to be found in that message they were missing. The last were those who were a combination of several elements, a few being appreciation/love for their pastor, a reverence for the work being done and a desire to be of assistance by joining in the planned strategies to enlarge the Kingdom, as we went about the Father’s Work. The people in the third category were the Disciples of Christ. These categories of people have been present in both my pastoral work and in the administrative tasks both in academia and local government, with different labelling.

So… why the title “Learning the Language”? I have used two elemental examples in my thoughts thus far. One component was a reflection from my youth, where formulation of mind and language don’t seem to have that pronounced importance to most at the time. The second component was a reflection of how I transitioned into adulthood and a particular part of the workplace. We often hear words which inadvertently have double entendre. What is said and meant by the words we speak may often have a totally different meaning to those to whom they are spoken. For example: “It is important to think before you speak!” is an often used soft criticism, but when considered as an association to weakness or deficiency in one’s life, that statement may do much damage! Ok… I know that some are saying that he must be expecting us to tiptoe through life and take note of our circumlocution as well as our intentions, in consideration of the hearer! YUP! It bodes well for us to imagine life as others are experiencing it by times. Learning the language is not just so we know that obdurate is pigheadedness, or becoming sanctimonious is feeling morally superior to others and that word obtuse…well, it means to be insensitive and slow to understand. There is so much more. Insecure persons who already think themselves to be inferior in thought and speech can be crushed by what was not meant to do so.

I am not trying to say that having a good handle on The English language is the most important of our challenges in life, but I am pointing toward a broader perspective on the meaning of language as it affects others. I remember some formal Academic Board Meetings where tempers flared and words were spoken that were neither uplifting nor tolerable, within the forum in which we met. It was my duty as Chair to handle such outbursts and it was always my policy to do so with these individuals in private. Added to this, I most often chose a time and place that may have sometimes been considered by many to be too far-related to the event where the offence had been committed, to be effective. I was not always so prudent, and like most others, I could, in my own worst moments, be found to be worn down and wearied by the indolence/complacency of some, in other venues. We lose our consciousness of the present environment when we allow ourselves to be depleted in our sensitivity to others, not only that but also the veracity of the present. It is too easy to be drawn in by what “seems to be”, rather than spending time in meaningful evaluation, without prejudice, before we react. Even then it is easy, by virtue of our own past, (the environmental circumstances of our life’s path) to be found wanting. To know the difference between what is correct and what seems right in our mind's eye can enlighten a mountain of difference sometimes.

Language is not always oral in nature by any stretch of the imagination. I have mentioned in the past that I suffer from depression. Some of my family members have lectured me for not using drugs to level out my mood swings, and what some will be able to identify as paralysis, by times. I have a plaque (sign) on my wall that has great meaning in my life. It says: “PRAYER- When life becomes too hard to stand, kneel!” It is not just the words… it is the reality of knowing that behind that statement is the truth that I must surrender myself, my self-assurance, my personal strength and obdurate personality to Him who created me and who has the answers. My wife jokingly tells me I talk too much, and my parishioners used to tell me I preached too long. Today, those who call upon me, when needed sometimes to speak in Church Services, will in good fun pull out their pocket calendars and wave them as I begin to preach. I will tell you this with tears flowing down my cheeks that it matters not, because I have always wanted to be what God has planned for me to be, even when Satan has tried to make me become something else. I hear sincere voices from time to time, telling me with such love, that I am the best preacher they have ever heard. This means so little, for my answer has always been; “God gives the message I am only the speaker.” There are so many loving hearts, yet in opposition, there are so many that turn away with unrelenting hearts and minds, that continue to disparagingly condemn both the Word and the messenger.

What’s the language then, you might ask! It is like going into a very foreign country, as I have several times, to lecture and preach. If we enter into “the work” meaning whatever God has for us and we claim the superior position, we have missed the mark. We must present ourselves as Him; His hands and feet, His voice and personhood (though God is spirit and above any human identification, other than in Christ!), meaning His propensities and things that declare His image. I include this portion of Scripture: 1 John 4:7-12.

7 Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. 8 Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. 9 In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. 10 In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. 11 Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. 12 No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us.

Our ability to walk in love without dissimulation is of primary importance to us, and for the most part we seem to miss the mark. Families are collapsing, lives are being ruined and children are losing hope as the world becomes a “harder”, “looser (more easily lost)”, “faster”, “complicated” and “uncaring” place to live.

These are only a few adjectives that could be listed but are perhaps 5 of the most distressing as I see them. Is there a generation that cannot survive the change? No, I don’t think so, but this somewhat rhetorical question begs the reader to wonder, does it not, if we care about the changing tide? Today, I am walking too close to the edge for my own comfort. I am examining the elements of my own life that have been scrutinized and evaluated due to the roles I have played in life. I don’t like to look back and I mention that because I know the subtle irony of those words my father once spoke to me, “Looking back won’t bring it back!” Moments of regret, along with the pain of knowing the distress I may have caused others when I spoke or acted beyond my intention (scope of strategy), adds sorrow, even today, to my life. Looking back can flood our minds with good and bad memories.

It is then, the language of God’s love, that brings me back. It is the Spiritual medication that soothes my soul and revives my life to tenable usefulness. Don’t get me wrong, there are those who are as fully faithful, trusting and believing as I am, but who still need more, (that God also provides) to help them be whole. That is the most important language one will ever learn. No matter the word, action or deed, God’s love is always there. We may not understand it, we may not realize the depth of it, and we may not always place our full confidence in it, but He “IS” nevertheless always there. Romans 8:38-39:

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Today is just another day. I have been challenged by the silence of late and now a “still small voice” has been telling me not just to get up and eat, but be refilled and assured that when God gives, I must once again speak! Remember that we all live somewhere along the edge, but going even nearer there, in search of Him, is worth the walk. And remember too… I am praying for you!!!

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!