Arguing in reverse

Shauna and I had a good kind of argument today.

I remember our first year of marriage. The kitchen was a bad, bad place to be together. Lots of acidic conflict bubbled up through the spaghetti sauces that year. Later in our marriage I remember getting so exasperated that I muttered a threat about jumping out of our moving car to end the argument. She said, "Be my guest." And year seven went beyond the proverbial itch. It was just plain nasty.

We've grown up since then, and our love has deepened and come alive in powerful ways.

Today we drove twenty minutes to a hotel where Shauna's parents were staying to enjoy an evening of pizza and swimming. I park the van, at which point we realize that the swimming stuff bag got left in the entryway at home. The "well, I guess we just wont' go swimming then" option kinda didn't stick for more than seven seconds.

STOP DVD.

This is where, in previous years, I would have sighed a condescending sigh. Shauna would have said, "I asked you to pack the van." I would have said, "You walked right by the bag in the entry. Did you not think to pick it up?"

RESUME DVD.

Instead, Shauna says, "I'm so sorry. I thought I packed it myself." I said, "No, hon - it was my fault. You asked me to load the van. I forgot to bring the bag." And then she says, "Well, I'll go back for it." And I say, "No, it's my fault, I'll go." And she says, "No, it's my fault, I'll go." And I say, "I need to take care of you. You're really tired." And she says, "You hate cold pizza."

While she took the kids in, I slipped back out into the van and drove off before she could protest. We've come a long way, praise God.

Clay

Wet clay, supple though hardening
Stands before me, silent, sleeping
I reach out, fingers trembling
Touching, molding, so very careful
Clumsy, I push too hard
Leave a gash, I try to smooth her
Damage done, I must live with my work
Ashamed, I withdraw my hand
Bow my head, weep
The Artist takes mine in his
Places my hand on her soul again
the clay He's given me
To try again and again
His eyes smile, patient, reassuring
So I reach out again, fingers trembling
I see something now, though hidden
I draw it out, patient
stroke by stroke
Night falls, I press on
My excitement builds, flourishes
Here it comes
A shiver of life ripples, sings, dances
A sparkle, a dawn, a creeping violet flame
She smiles back at me
Sees me, loves me too
I, wet clay, supple though hardening
I stand before her, silent, sleeping
She reaches out, fingers trembling
Touching, molding
So very careful...

Coin

I'm a strong person. And also very fragile.

I have a stubborn streak a quarter mile wide. I work out and my torso is actually starting to look like something. I'm a visionary preacher and leader with lots to offer. And I get migraines that put me flat on my back, fairly often at that. I need my sleep or I get grumpy. I'm a wimp when I get sick. Just ask Shauna.

I have strong moral fiber and a growing, unflinching integrity, even when it costs me dearly. I generally do the right thing when it's called for. I'm very creative. And my passion can flame me out. And I can be prone to a short fuse, especially with my kids. And my creativity can pretty much dry up if I spend it too aggressively in one place.

I'm a caring husband and an involved father. I'm a devoted friend and a loyal supporter. And sometimes I feel so weak that I'm the one who needs to be held and hugged. And I need frequent verbal affirmation. And I recharge my batteries by being alone.

I love people and believe in them and love to believe God to work through them. And I get frustrated with people and sometimes wish I could tear a strip off them. With my bare hands.

I have a strong body. And a bad back.

The thing is, God knows all this and more. And he still likes me. Loves me. Uses me. In spite of it. Because of it. Transcending it all. Both sides of the coin. Both sides of me.

How about you?

Words that should exist, part 2

Here's the second round of words that should exist. Again, which gets your vote as the best one on this list?

11. ELBONICS (el bon icks') n.
The actions of two people maneuvering for one armrest in a movie theater.

12. ELECELLERATON (el a cel er ay' shun) n.
The mistaken notion that the more you press an elevator button the faster it will arrive.

13. FRUST (frust) n.
The small line of debris that refuses to be swept onto the dust pan and keeps backing a person across the room until he finally decides to give up and sweep it under the rug.

14. LACTOMANGULATION (lak to man gyu lay' shun) v.
Manhandling the "open here" spout on a milk container so badly that one has to resort to the illegal side.

15. NEONPHANCY (ne on' fan see) n.
A fluorescent light bulb struggling to come to life.

16. PEPPIER (pehp ee ay') n.
The waiter at a fancy restaurant whose sole purpose seems to be walking around asking diners if they want ground pepper.

17. PETROPHOBIC (pet ro fob' ik) adj.
One who is embarrassed to undress in front of a household pet.

18. PHONESIA (fo nee' zhuh) n.
The affliction of dialing a phone number and forgetting whom you were calling just as they answer.

19. PUPKUS (pup kus') n.
The moist residue left on a window after a dog presses it nose to it.

20. TELECRASTINATION (tel e kras tin ay' shun) n.
The act of always letting the phone ring at least twice before you pick it up, when you're only six inches away.

Words that should exist

I found this page today at http://www.comedycorner.org/15.html and got a real kick out of it. I'll post the first ten today and the next tomorrow. Please comment on which is your favorite and why. Enjoy.

1. ACCORDIONATED (ah kor' de on ay tid) adj.
Being able to drive and re fold a road map at the same time.

2. AQUADEXTROUS (ak wa deks' trus) adj.
Possessing the ability to turn the bathtub faucet on and off with your toes.

3. AQUALIBRIUM (ak wa bib' re um) n.
The point where the stream of drinking fountain water is at its perfect height, thus relieving the drinker from (a) having to suck the nozzle, or (b)squirting himself in the eye (or ear).

4. BURGACIDE (burg' uh side) n.
When a hamburger can't take any more torture and hurls itself through the grill into the coals.

5. BUZZACKS (buz' aks) n.
People in phone marts who walk around picking up display phones and listening for dial tones even when they know the phones are not connected.

6. CARPERPETUATION (kar' pur pet u a shun) n.
The act, when vacuuming, of running over a string or a piece of lint at least a dozen times, reaching over and picking it up, examining it, then putting it back down to give the vacuum one more chance.

7. DIMP (dimp) n.
A person who insults you in a cheap department store by asking, "Do you work here?"

8. DISCONFECT (dis kon fect') v.
To sterilize the piece of candy you dropped on the floor by blowing on it, somehow assuming this will remove all the germs.

9. ECNALUBMA (ek na leb' ma) n.
A rescue vehicle which can only be seen in the rear view mirror.

10. EIFFELITES (eye' ful eyetz) n.
Gangly people sitting in front of you at the movies who, no matter which direction you lean in, follow suit.

52Thrive

One of the great initiatives at our church is something called 52Thrive (Five to Thrive).

In a nutshell, I challenge our people to:
- Once a day, pray for an opportunity to plant a spiritual seed in someone's life wherever you live, work, or play.
- Once a week, offer someone in your circle an act of kindness, no strings attached.
- Once a paycheck, spend 1-2.5% of your income on those acts of kindness (deduct this from your tithe if you have to).
- Once a month, have coffee or a meal with someone in your neighborhood or workplace.
- Once a quarter, do some kind of service project or outreach with your small group.

So here's my thing: I believe that any church that can get their people living this kind of lifestyle would be radically transformed within a year or two. I don't really care about the five points, I care about the spirit behind them. Living to bless others. Which is why last night was such a highlight for me.

My wife and I decided to host both our kids' soccer windups... at the same time. We used our 52Thrive money to buy a whack of pizzas and cake from Costco, sent the invites, and got our house inundated with people (probably 35 or so). They were so amazed that we did this for the teams. Glory's coach in particular said, "You guys add so much to the community."

Ah, music to my ears. She was saying, without using the church lingo, "You are salt and light around here." Which is what every Christian family needs to be, right? A lighthouse in their neighborhood. We don't always get it right, but we're learning!

I challenge you to live the 52Thrive lifestyle. It's a total blast. You can check into this in more detail by visiting our church website. It's under "Who we are."

Stuff

Yesterday's post was about finding just the right word. Today, it's the word "Stuff."

There's no better word for all the 'junk' lining my son's carpet. Or my daughter's entire room. I just sent them to clean it all up, to 'put stuff where it belongs.' But where does stuff go? Over time, along with the GI Joes, Polly's, Lego Knights, and car sets, you accumulate a landfill's worth of pretty much useless stuff that you're not sure where to put. Is it Polly? Does it go in the Star Wars container? Is it Lego? I'm not sure. It's stuff. Some people have 'stuff drawers,' but at some point, those fill up too. Some people have 'stuff rooms.' Then what?

A few months ago, we gutted my daughter's room (mostly without her help) and stuffed three black garbage bags full of stuff. Know what? She hasn't asked for or missed a single piece of it. It's just stuff.

Adults accumulate stuff too. Some people are pack rats. I think I'm more of that persuasion. And then there are traders. Low end traders garage sale their stuff, make a few bucks, and buy more stuff. High end traders leverage Ebay and make even more money because there is always some sap out there looking for the stuff we're selling. Then they can buy more stuff with the money they made off the old stuff.

Then there are the huckers. Shauna is a bona fide hucker. If she doesn't know what something is, it get's hucked. She gets into hucking moods, downright scary moments where children and couches and old Potato salad everything and nothing is safe from becoming our latest curbside memento. She doesn't make a dime on our old stuff and we still buy new stuff. But a true Hucker's reward is in the empty void they leave in their purging wake.

The upside is that after the hucking mood, there's less to clean up.

A lot less.

I think God gets in hucking moods too, especially with the crazy stuff we pick up along life's pathway.

Articulation.

As a writer, I can tell you that finding just the right word for a sentence is a beautiful thing. Writing can be frustrating, like when you spend the whole evening putting a string of Christmas lights on the front of your house over the garage and you plug it in...

... and nothing happens. No budda, no bing, no bang. Huh.

The right words often tease me, flitting there in the very corner of my eye, dancing provocatively in the recesses of my brain, just close enough to the surface of my consciousness that I know the word exists but just fuzzy enough to make it impossible for me to capture. I'm just as likely to finally land on solid proof for Bigfoot as land upon that mystical word.

So I jerk the whole light string down again, muttering under my breath about how Scrooge was on to something. I inspect every bulb to see if it's connecting properly and having its little needs met. One diva light bulb at a time. Frustrating business.

But when I discover that solitary pink bulb that's been whining and holding the whole chain hostage and replace it with a new word -er, bulb - with the right attitude, and I plug in the string again and the whole thing lights up and brings joy to the world ... THAT, ladies and gentleman, THAT is what it's like finding just the right word in the right place at the right time. It's like the holy grail, baby. Break out the hot apple cider, we have a winner instead of a whiner. An entire paragraph can make the leap from obscurity to genius with the turning of one magnificent word. Divas are fine, so long as they behave.

Yup. Now, if only I could describe it for you.

Later

Now and then, I think later is okay.

Sometimes I procrastinate. When will I mow the lawn? Later. Fix the broken shelf? Later. Write more of my novel? Later. And sometimes, later never comes. Not good.

On the other hand, the incessant now tires me out. When should I clean the garage? Now. When is that report due? Now. When would you like the kitchen clean? Now. I hate feeling boxed in, scripted, micromanaged, and overscheduled. Even worse, when something ought to have been done... yesterday.

I was born a full month early, and ever since I've hated being rushed. I like pacing myself. Not everything has to be done now. It really doesn't. I like being on time. Not late, not early, on time.

Today I have an hour between a wall of scheduled stuff. Just an hour. And I'm really tired. I need to rest today. My boys both wanted me for something. Later, I said. This week. I just have to get through today. Later.

I know I need this hour. I know later will save my emotional gas tank. But it's hard to say later and truly mean it. And its even harder to make sure later doesn't become "still later" or worse, "never." It has to become now sooner or later, or later becomes a kind of lie.

See you later.

Stubborn beauty

I snapped this photo on a hike with my kids the other day.

It reminded me that true beauty is regally strong. It's not waifish, and definitely not without its scars. True beauty is tough, stubborn, and persistent. It finds ways to shine no matter where it finds itself. Fragility is dangerous.

Look at the photo. Gorgeous colors, a mini-scape fit for royalty. And its blossoming on a rock. A rock! The lichen grew in the full sun in a dry climate, clutching the face of the cliff with determined fingers, shaking its ruddy fist at the elements. And it absolutely radiates the glory of God.

And the plant. Man, what tenacity! The seed found itself lodged cruelly in a dark crevice, out of reach and out of touch. But out it comes, pressing and craning its way out into the world for us to enjoy.

We need more people like that, more women like that. In our society its becoming increasingly hard for true beauty to survive, never mind shine. We need stubborn girls aflame with the glory of God that will not wade into to the world's corrupting cesspools, young women who can take a hit and stand tall anyway, true handmaidens of the King of Kings who reflect his image. Even their scars are beautiful.

I'm a guy, and as such I can't fully understand what it is I'm aiming at in this post, or how hard it would be to live out. But I can't think of anything this side of heaven that points to Jesus more than what I'm describing. If you're female, I pray you hear the call.

sword play

I played with my sword today.

I have to tell you why that matters. See, I'm a Lord of the Rings aficionado. Something about that trilogy awakens my heart like nothing else. And I identify closely with Aragorn, the reluctant King of Gondor. He spends a good chunk of his life as a Ranger, hiding from his calling, pensive and unsure, afraid of his weaknesses and perhaps even more afraid of his strength.

The symbol of humanity's weakness in the trilogy is a Kingly blade called Narsil, shattered in an epic battle against the evil Sauron of Mordor. Well, I was attending a Wild at Heart (John Eldredge) Boot Camp in Colorado a few years ago and he had that broken sword. After one of the sessions, I went to the front and picked it up and realized that I was the broken sword. The sword was me. But during the conference, God asked me to lay that broken blade down, to pick up a new blade, also at the front on the stage. Though feeling unsure and unworthy, my heart accepted the call.

In Return of the King, the elves (symbolic of the angelic, the divine) reforge the broken blade and present it to Aragorn. "Put aside the Ranger," the Elf King declares. "Become who you were born to be!" Aragorn takes up the sword and never looks back. And God reforged my broken heart. I began to rise into my calling. The name of the reforged sword is "Elendil." It has runes on it that say, in Elven, "I was Narsil, but now I am Elendil. May the thralls of Mordor flee me." A new name. A new destiny.

When we wrapped up our nine year run as youth pastor couple in Winkler, Manitoba, my friends were in charge of the gift. Honestly, all I prayed was that they didn't get me a clock (that's common for a pastor's gift).

They bought me Aragorn's sword, Elendil. I wept. And shook. And learned to wield it and what it represents.

I played with my sword today. It reminds me of who I am. What I'm called to. What's at stake. Who's behind me.

Let the thralls of Mordor flee me.

A new day

I wish I could better protect the ones I love.

One of the most painful nights of my life happened when my son Noah got croup really bad and had to be hospitalized one night. He also had a brutal nagging cough so harsh that his stomach muscles started to let go and stretch out. I spent the night in the spoon position behind him in the hospital bed with my arms wrapped tightly behind him so I could hold in his stomach. Every cough sent tearing pain through his gut, and drove a knife into my heart. I prayed and prayed and God didn't heal him. We had to wait it out.

My kids used to believe me with every fiber of their being when I told them they were awesome. Now a bunch of those fibers are responsive other voices, hurtful voices, and are starting to go against the grain. Now the look in their eyes is tempered some when I affirm them. Now part of them doesn't believe, but wants to.

A friend of mine is single and lonely. He's going to make a great, loyal, loving husband... but short of setting him up with someone (which isn't my style) there's nothing I can do. I know prayer is something, I do. But on days like today I'd like to grab a cave woman by the hair and drag her home for him.

My son Noah has been bullied a couple of times this year. He's handled it pretty well, all things considered, but I wish I could have been there. Could have stepped in the way and protected him.

This week my Lovely is so very tired, almost ragged in her soul. She's worn out. I wish I could just lift that fatigue off her soul, take it onto my own or even just throw it in a BFI bin for her.

I know deep down that if I really did have the power to protect and insulate my loved ones from everything I thought was bad I'd actually be stunting their growth, that I'd be depriving them of the context against which their most radiant joy will compare itself. Every painting needs some dark colors, some contrast. I know that, I'm an artist even. But it's hard.

Today, God, my heart aches for the ones I love. I want to protect them. But that's your job, I guess. Today, God, is one of those days when I choose to trust your heart in the face of darkness I wish you'd just wipe away like a stray tear. Today I pray for the end of the night for my lonely brother, the face of dawn and a new day.

Just for me

This week God has repeatedly sent me flowers.

Not actual flowers, mind you, but I've still gotten the message loud and clear.

- There was a stormy night where I drank in the pots of liquid gold streaming from half a dozen rainbows.
- There was the luscious iced chai drink Shauna brought me today after work. Yum.
- There was the Father's day card from Joel that reached right through my ribcage and touched my heart.
- There was the waterfall pounding a pocked channel through twenty feet of ice and snow in the mountains.
- There was the family of Mountain Sheep, twenty strong, shedding the winter layer of fur along the side of the road.
- There was a sunset that redefined the word 'glory' in my vocabulary.

By the way, at least one of those rainbows was just for me.

Arrogant, you say? Not really. Rainbows are jewels of refracted light only visible from certain vantage points. You can't see it from behind, or the side, or even when you get too 'close.' So I was walking through a field in the middle of nowhere and a rainbow arced perfectly over my path. I was at just the right angle. There was no one else around. It was just for me.

Still struggling with this concept? Try Elizabeth, mother of John the Baptist. When she found out that she was pregnant with the prophet who would prepare the way for the Savior of the world, she said, "The Lord has done this for me." Twice she says that. For me. For her. And she was right.

Yes, there was more going on there than a barren woman's heart's desire being filled. It was about the whole world. I get that, and I think she did too. But our God is so personal, so intimate, that it was also about her personally — not in a generic, "I am one of millions" way, either. Isn't that cool?

My advice? Take things personally. Look around. God may have delivered some flowers in unlikely packages lately...

Just for you.

Words that have lost their meaning.

There are a couple of words that have lost their meaning to me.

Christian. Faith. Love.

Christian is such a vague term. The West is Christian. United Church folks who don't believe Jesus was the Son of God are Christian. I think something like 60% of Americans would label themselves Christian, according to the polls a few years back. It's become meaningless. But ask people if they are a "Christ Follower," and you have a real discussion on your hands. Am I a Christian? Well, that depends what you mean. I'm a Christ follower. I've put my faith in him and I've put my faith where my mouth is. If that makes me one, then sure.

Faith is another word that can mean anything from slushy sentimentality toward anything you choose on one hand and fundamentalist bigotry on the other. Yuck. "I believe" means almost nothing these days. What God is looking for is so much more than emotion, more than mindful assent, more even than obedience. True faith is a deep knowing that transcends those things and yet must express itself through all three. When I say I believe something, there is no word in the English language that can capture the depth of what I'm trying to say. Maybe I'll invent a word that does the trick.

Love. Our society has butchered that one, but we all help. I love pizza. I love a cool breeze and a BBQ with friends. And I love my wife. See? It's too broad. I treasure my wife. I adore my wife. There, that gets closer.

I think we owe the special things and people and moments in our lives the dignity of choosing our words carefully and reserving some of them for only the most precious occasions.

Father's Day

I just had the mother of all Father's Days. Pardon the pun.

How can that be, you ask. Father's day is tomorrow, you point out. Ah, but not for me. See, I'm a pastor and Sunday is crazy at the best of times, so we celebrated it today. And man, did it rock.

I got a special breakfast to start it off, ala my wife Shauna. I got cute cards, great crafts, tender hugs, and lotsa lovin'. And then we packed ourselves up and drove off to the mountains. First, we hiked up a jumbled creekbed up to a the base of a waterfall. Near the top the riverbed was packed with twenty foot deep ice & snow and coated with broken pine trees and branches from an avalanche.

And then, at the base of the falls the water had eroded away the ice so we could get under it, right next to the falls. We climbed right down into the thing and then exited via an ice tunnel. That was one of the thrills of my life, and I got to share it with my kids (and later, Shauna did it too, though it didn't make it onto video).

And then we saw Mountain sheep. Twenty of 'em or so, right up close. Probably 7 or 8 Rams in the bunch with full head gear.

And then we stopped for a snack and fed ground squirrels from our hands.
And we saw a bald eagle and an offsprey. And it was supposed to rain and was gorgeous instead. And the kids were pretty much darlings. And then when we got home we cuddled on the couch and watched Finding Nemo.

I mean, really — it just don't get better 'n nat. Thanks, God!

Magic in the mud

Did I mention that I'm a bonehead?

Lucky for me, God knew that going in. Tonight was Elizabeth's birthday (a great lady in our Life Group) and her husband had the bright idea to have us all drive an hour North to a spot on a field in the bush on his parent's farm for a BBQ. But it's been raining for a week. Can you say "bog?" I can. Watch. BOG. See? It's not hard.

And I'm tired. Real tired. I don't want to drive an hour to stand in the rain roasting weiners. At all. But we love Elizabeth, so off we go. Cause frankly, she's worth it.

Uh huh. But I'm muttering as we drive. This is stupid. It's not going to be fun at all. We can leave as soon as we check in. This is not how I want to be spending my evening. And to prove my point with gusto, Mr. weather dumps another few million gallons of rain on our car as we inch toward the magical spot for a magical evening.

The thing is, it really was magical. We saw probably half a dozen rainbows. One framed the path I was walking on, and I heard God whisper, "My promise covers your path." It really meant a lot to think that such a wonder was painted on the evening sky just for me. For the bonehead.

We got muddy. Our car got stuck on the field. We got wet. Real wet. And... had a total blast. We had to Rally race a big farm pickup truck into the field to get there and the kid's rode in the back, howling and laughing the whole way. And then there was good friends, good food, satisfying laughter, and a spectacular sunset as the evening faded. Turns out that the night was exactly what we all needed.

The pics are some of God's reminders. Of the fun? Sure. But mostly, that I'm a bonehead. To see more pics, check my website at www.bradhuebert.com.

Friendship in the trenches.

Friendship has been on my brain the past twenty four hours.

Remember my driveway debacle? We found out that there is no building code for driveways, which means there is no standard to hold contractors up to. Meaning, we're on our own. I've been so tired lately, ever since the Dalhousie massacre and the media frenzy amidst it all. My schedule has been insane, often including multiple appointments per night, 5 or 6 nights a week. I don't ordinarily allow my life to get this busy, but this two week stretch just kinda needed to happen as is.

All that to say, I had no energy, brain cells, or even foggy clues about how to proceed with getting my driveway fixed. I'm just plain overwhelmed to the point of not caring. So I spoke with a contractor buddy of mine in Manitoba, asking him about codes and things like that. Not asking for help, just talking. Two hours later, he called back. He'd phoned a bunch of people out here for me (2 Provinces away), got some quotes and leads, and was going to do more work on that for me today. I teared up, grateful for a true, lifelong friend who goes to bat for me when I have nothing left to muster. I needed that, Sam. Thanks more than you can ever know.

Then today, I called up another dear friend and had the chance to switch roles, to connect on deep stuff for his benefit in his dark moments. Gritty, costly, life-giving friendship. Stronger than steel. Worth fighting for. Both of these guys have carried me and allowed me to carry them. My life would be so much poorer without them.

Thank you, Jesus.

Storm

Playing, stopping, listening, murmuring.

Threatening, darkening, advancing, foiling.

Squealing, scampering, sheltering, humph-ing.

Spitting, pattering, plunking, dumping.

Booming, flashing, rumbling, striking.

Gasping, ooh-ing, ah-ing, pointing.

Pounding, surging, gurgling, smothering.

Soaking, seeping, puddling, mucking.

Rising, running, flowing, flooding.

Groaning, whispering, wondering, brooding.

Filling, restoring, nourishing, gracing.

Ebbing, clearing, evaporating, resting.

Asking, begging, thanking, bounding.

Smiling, giggling, splashing, playing.

Shivering, dripping, changing, bathing.

Snacking, cuddling, praying, sleeping.

Father's day

I spent today working on a video for our Father's Day service.

Tom, our youth pastor, spent last Sunday interviewing the kids in our church about what they loved about their fathers. It was so much fun to work with all the short clips, assembling them into a meaningful whole. The quotes were wonderful; some were priceless. Like, "My daddy is special because... because... when I... because at school I made an animal rock."

Lately I've been reading Tim Kimmel's book, "Preparing your kids for true Greatness." It's amazing so far. He contrasts the world's definition of success (high paying job, nice house, attractive family) with God's definition of true greatness (living to serve others and leave an eternal legacy). The one line that hit me the most was a comment on 9/11. He said that while the successful people ran down the stairs for their lives, the truly great people ran up the stairs to give their lives. He said we worship the successful, but during tragedies, we perish without the truly great.

Wow.

It made me think: That if I had raised a truly great kid who worked in the twin towers, I just may well have lost him or her that day because they would have been most concerned with helping others. They would have run up the stairs, not down. We discussed that scenario at Bible Study tonight: If you had to choose whether you'd raise a shallow, self-absorbed child who lived till they were 96 — or a selfless, truly great person who left a legacy but was dead by age 30, which would you choose?

I can't imagine losing a child. I can't. But a selfish, shallow child is a kind of loss too. I'd choose the 30 year old, hands down.

Tomorrow I'll reflect on this greatness thing some more.

My Driveway

So I was backing out of the driveway the other day, and it collapsed.
See? The car just went CLUNK as I pulled out. I could hardly believe my eyes. And then I got the tape measure out, because I couldn't believe them even more than at first.

Yup. My driveway, or at least part of it, is just under an inch and a half thick. We called the Homebuilder, who said he didn't believe us and anyway, they heard stories like this all the time and there was nothing we could do about it. It's the way we build driveways, was his message. Blah blah blah. And the warranty is only one year from date of construction. So good luck with that.

My point is not that wear and tear have happened. Sure, driveways sink and crack and all that. But this wasn't built up to code, or even half of code, when it was put in. I think they should pay for it. And it rips me off that they know their driveways are subpar, and that there is no accountability for it. I want to be a good Christian, but maybe that means holding people accountable at times.

I sent the Developer a nice email today with four or five pictures to gander at, inviting them to do the right thing. I'll let you know how it goes. (PS: I just didn't feel right about publishing their name... yet).

Pizza with Aslan

Yesterday we bailed.

The phone was ringing off the hook like it was punishing us for some hidden sin. The doorbell rang so often I wanted to rip it off the wall and eat it. Everyone in our house was grumpy (me too). Things have been.... well... tough lately. In school. At workplaces. In life. So while Shauna crashed into a much needed late afternoon nap, I made a decision.

We had to get outta there.

We're not frivolous spenders, we're not usually whim people. But enough was enough. I let Shauna sleep for an hour, then prodded her from la-la land to whisper the plan: "We're going out for supper and then we're taking the kids to Prince Caspian." Homework? Who cares. Could we afford it? Who cares. Everybody into the van!

We got Little Caesar's pizza ($5 for a medium x 2, you can't beat that) and a Wendy's taco salad for Shauna, slurpees from the Mac's corner store, and went and flaked out on blankets by a nearby manmade lake. The kids (that includes me) explored along the shoreline and found treasures and we just hung out with nothing in particular to do for about an hour. Then went to the movie.

It felt like a vacation.

At some point during our picnic, I asked Shauna, "At which point during this year did we forget that we need this kind of thing regularly?" Not the spending, the free time where phones and doorbells can't ring. The family time. It was so rich spending the evening doing stuff we love... together.

Did I mention I love my family?

Life lessons at the car wash

Another funny story. But first, to clarify, I'm not endorsing hit and run gas pranks. ;)

Anyways, some friends of ours from a past life had just finished coming from a family gathering and decided to get a car wash on the way home. The husband is driving (that's important for the story). He pulls up to the little machine, punches in his code, and the light turns green, inviting him to edge ahead. So far, so good.

He's leaning out the window, craning his neck as he inches the car into the narrow track. He has a thought: "Why haven't I done this before? I usually struggle getting the car lined up perfectly, but leaning out the window like this, I can... " CLUNK. The car finds the sweet spot. Nice.

No, not nice. The carwash kicks in, answering his query with a vengeful geyser of recycled water boring into the side of his head. He panics (which I understand), groping wildly for the electric "raise window" button while protecting his face in vain with the other arm.

LOCK. UNLOCK. LOCK. UNLOCK. Dang! Wrong button.

By the time he finds the right button, he's soaked in stale yuck water. And the window is electric, remember, so it rises in slow motion. COME ON, COME ON!

When all is said and done, his family is peeing itself with laughter at his expense. "Honey, let's just go back to my mom and dad's and get you changed," his wife suggests.

But that would mean humiliation beyond repair (here is where the man driving comes in). So instead, he opts to drive the hour and whatever home soaking wet just so he won't have to face those people with his stupidity.

True story. As told by them. Life is good.

Oops.

Reading Sarah Markley's blog about an embarrassing moment with a vehicle reminded me of one 'o' my own.

So... I was in a big hurry, filling up my car with gas while being a few minutes late for my forty-five minute commute to Bible School. Two minutes after peeling away from the station I remembered that I'd left my gas cap jammed in the nozzle (to keep it pumping so I don't have to stand there and hold it the whole time).

Oops.

So I turn my car around, now REAALLY late... and book it back to the gas station. I pull up to the spot at the pump where I'd just been to see a bizarre looking lady standing perfectly rigid, eyes bugged wildly out of her head, breathing hard, soaking wet while holding the pump nozzle. Weird.

My gas cap is sitting on the roof of her car. She is standing speechless as I stride up to the car, snatch my gas cap, thank her, screw the cap back in, and begin driving away. The smell of gas is really strong for some reason. Huh.

And then it hits me: She's soaking wet with gasoline... which is because I had my gas cap wedged into the nozzle. When she flipped the switch she hadn't put it into her car yet. She didn't know it was already pinned full throttle. The gas had geysered like a hose in a water fight, soaking her to the bone. And then I had simply walked up to her, snatched my gas cap, said "thank-you very much," and driven off like nothing was the matter. Luckily it took her about fifteen seconds more than I took to figure out what actually happened. I was long gone.

Yes, I drove off. Yes, even when I realized what I had done (what, YOU'D go back?) And yes, I laughed. Hard, in fact. The look on her face was priceless.

God still loves me. I asked.

I do, however, feel a twinge of guilt to this very day.

But only a twinge.

Inside job

Have you heard this?

"SAO PAULO, Brazil - The luxurious lifestyle of a convict in northeastern Brazil has come to an abrupt end after police confiscated a plasma TV set, gym equipment, two pistols and cash worth US$173,000 from his cell. Bahia's Prison Affairs Department head Jose Francisco Leite said police raided the cell in a statewide crackdown on drug trafficking."

Okay, you know a system is corrupt when drugs and guns are a problem in prison. Isn't that supposed to be where people go to pay for having problems with drugs and guns?

This world is a weird place, though. If you really want to catch a bug and get sick, visit a hospital, right? There is no insulating people from sin and corruption, because the problem lies within us. You can take the horse from the country, but you can't take the country from the horse.

Which is why I'm so amazed when sinful people actually change when Jesus Christ truly gets ahold of them. Not that I didn't think Jesus can do it, it's just that sin runs so very deep. When someone is truly healed of an addiction to anger or lust or anything else, that's no less spectacular than growing an amputated arm back.

You think God creating the world out of nothing was amazing? How about creating holiness out of corruption? Joy out of despair? Peace out of angst? Love out of hate?

Good people

Good people are ALWAYS worth holding on to.

I've got some good people in my life. I mean even beyond my angelic wife. I've got friends that will tell me what they think God thinks of me and what I'm up to in my life. Sometimes it's affirming, sometimes not. Good people.

Like Elaine. Elaine found me after Sunday's service and told me, in a nutshell, that while God's hand was clearly on me, that I'd also make a lovely mounted head on Satan's trophy wall along with the long string of pastors already there in his gallery, with that deer-in-headlights look that froze on their faces just before he duped them into moral failures of every stripe and color.

Wow, that was a long sentence.

She was saying, in case my grammar buried the message, that I need to be careful to guard my heart — especially in the wake of the emotionally-charged media-frenzied circus of a week I just stumbled through. Good word, huh?

No, I mean hers, not mine.

A seasoned pastor once told me that we all need at least one person in our lives that isn't impressed by us — someone who can see through the personas and puppet shows, a person who can hold up a mirror and isn't afraid to do it. Someone who tells you the truth about yourself. If that person happens to like you, all the better. But even if they don't, if they're right, they're a friend, not a foe.

Preaching to the choir... and a whole lot more

Today I did something I've never done before.

Actually, every day in the past week it's been like that. But today I preached with CBC cameras rolling. With the Calgary Herald guy scribbling notes in shorthand. With a bunch of people from the community in the pews. With the world, or what felt like the world, watching.

Usually it's kinda cozy in our sanctuary. Same old folks. We know each other, and for the most part, like each other.

Today was good for us. It reminded us that the world really is watching, that what we do with ourselves during the week really does matter. I had to remind myself that in some ways, today's sermon was no different than last week's. I'm supposed to preach faithfully, serving God first. I should do that whether I'm preaching to empty pews or full ones or even to a camera, right?

On the other hand, this was totally different than last week. Last week I had the luxury of using inside jokes, addressing people who have become comfortable with me. This week I preached on the edge of a knife blade, wanting to hit the mark while avoiding deathtraps on either side — selling out and watering things down on one side, and going overboard with damaging rhetoric on the other. Last week my crowd was forgiving. This week my words will get parsed and cut and pasted by the media and broadcasted as if it came straight from my mouth whether I meant what they made me say or not. I pray for God's inspiration and guidance upon the words they choose to use and how to use them. If you've ever dreamed of having this kind of opportunity, don't. Trust me when I say it's overrated.

Don't get me wrong. The media has been fine so far — courteous, as respectful as they can be given their various tasks. I'm just glad to "get back to normal" now, whatever normal we be from now on.

If you'd like to listen to the full message, you can find it on iTunes under Podcasts, Dalhousie Community Church. It's called "Unthinkable." God bless.