Backwater

Today was a good day. It was relatively low key. I didn’t know what to expect of today – the day after my dad’s funeral. But it was a good day. I feel like I’ve felt all the intense emotions I needed to feel just now. More may come, I realize. But today I got to rest. I’m writing here too, instead of nursing, rearranging, updating and generally brooding over my dad’s memorial blog site. This spot feels lower key too. Kind of out of the way; a bit like backwater. Just little ol’ me. It feels good.

Granola Bars

I don't know what the deal is with granola bars. They always seem like such a good idea. I always throw them in my pocket or bag in case I get hungry or forget my breakfast. But I never, ever, ever eat them. I think I like them, but when the moment of decision comes, I always pick something else.

What's up with that?

A blog of sad

I always thought “blog” was a funny word. I know it’s an abbreviation of “web log” but it reminds me more of “blob” or “glob” – “blog” so I have a “blog of sad”. The source of my sadness is not uncommon to human experience. In fact not many of us escape it in some form or other. Someone I love is dying. It’s my dad.

I’m actually sitting with him now. He’s sleeping and the nurses have told me it’s okay to use my laptop it if I don’t plug it in, or use the send receive functions. I’m wearing those weird non-latex latex hospital gloves and a mask. My dad has a super-bug and so he’s under quarantine officially. It’s weird to type with gloves on. He’s sleeping. He sleeps a lot.

The doctors have told him they can’t do anything more for him. He has been breathing with the help of a ventilator for the past month, here in the ICU. They can’t get him off it, and he can’t stay on it so, with his permission, and when he is ready, they will give him morphine to make him comfortable and remove the ventilator. The doctors say his C02 levels will rise and he’ll fall asleep – then be gone.

When they explained this to my dad, he said it all sounded pretty good, except the very last part. His attempt at humour.

So between my sister and I we spend 12 hours a day at the hospital being with my dad while old friends and family cycle through to say goodbye and wait for him to decide he’s ready. How do decide you’re “ready”? I don’t know.

I’m going to miss my dad.

That’s why I’m sad.

Plan B

The characters in Douglas Coupland’s book Girlfriend in a Coma have completely messed up their lives. They argue they’ve lived relatively normal lives, but when challenged, can’t deny they are dead inside. They even mess up dramatic opportunities to change, learn and grow. They don’t. So finally they are offered Plan B. A chance to be different But there’s a cost. Not only must one character sacrifice herself, but the rest must pay a price as well. A job they must do.

They have a ghost friend who helps them out. He tells them some stuff when they finally start to figure it all out. Here’s some of what he says to them. I think it’s amazing!

“You’re to be different now. Your behaviour will be changing. Your thinking is to change and people will watch these changes in you and they’ll come to experience the world in your new manner.”

“Didn’t you often feel as if the only way you could fully truly change yourself in the powerful way you yearned for was to die and then start again from scratch? Didn’t you feel as if all of the old symbols and ideas fed to you since birth had become worn out like old shoes? Didn’t you ache for change but you didn’t know how to achieve it? And even if you knew how to do it would you have the guts to go forth? Didn’t you want your cards shuffled in a different way?”

“For all of you. And in your new lives you’ll have to live entirely for that one sensation—that of imminent truth. And you’re going to have to holler for it, steal for it, beg for it—and you're never to stop asking questions about it twenty-four hours a day, for the rest of your life.”

“In your old lives you had nothing to live for. Now you do. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Go clear the land for a new culture—bring axes, scythes, and guns. I know you have the necessary skills—explosives, medicine, engineering, media knowledge, and the ability to camouflage yourselves. If you’re not spending every waking moment of your life radically rethinking the nature of the world—if you’re not plotting every moment boiling the carcass of the old order—then you’re wasting your day.”

Candy Cleaning

After dinner tonight we let the girls each pick a candy from their Halloween bags. At the rate they are going, they should be good for candy until 2023. Kaylee dumped out her bag on the living room rug to pick just the right one. After the long ritual of choosing, Kaylee began the process of putting her candy back in her bag. Some of the candy had come loose from bags and wrappers. Each of these loose candies she licked before returning to the bag. I noticed this process taking place.

"Kaylee, why are licking your candies before you put them away?" I asked.

"'Cause I want to make sure they are clean for next time," she explained.

Okay.

So, just by way of warning, if Kaylee offers you a candy from her Halloween bag in the next few weeks, take one that's in a wrapper.

God Gum

This morning I was playing with the girls. Emily said “You are God’s wife, and I’m a baby angel.” Kaylee said, “I’m God, and I’m chewing God gum.” (Because she had a gum ball). Emily, who also had a gum ball said, ”I’m chewing baby angel gum.”

I have strange children!

Frightening Grace

I suddenly found myself on the other side of the equation. You know how it goes. There’s the “people in need” and then there’s me. My job is to help the “people in need” (whatever that means). That’s fine. That’s how I like it. Where I feel secure, in control, independent, a-okay. Maybe, if I’m honest, a bit superior.

Then something slips, and you feel less in control, less capable, a bit worn down and no end in sight.

But then it gets worse. People start helping you.

The dawning horror: I’ve become a “people in need”, somehow at the mercy of others. If I look around I see it’s true. And I sense the grace my community is extending me. Undeserved, free gifts all around. What could be better? I hate it. It feels so…needy, so weak. Maybe just a little too close to home. But this uncomfortable feeling has a bit of a familiar signature to it. That God-poking-at-something feeling. How prideful am I?

Why is grace, fully undeserved, wholly unearned, completely unrelenting, so terrifying?

Things in Clouds

I was playing in the backyard with the girls. Kaylee wanted to lay on the grass and look at clouds. So we did. She started pointing out things she saw.

"There's a dog. No, it's a wolf! There's two alligators!"

"Oh, yah. Wow," I responded. I saw none if it. I looked, I just couldn't see any shapes in the clouds.

One of the many reasons kids are smarter than adults. The see more things than we do.

Meaningless Babble

I don't have anything deep to say, but I haven't posted for a while, so I thought I'd just use it as a forum to whine. I'm tired and feel like I'm behind on everything in my whole life and I'm catching a cold!

Two weekends ago we moved my dad into an extended care facility, which was a major accomplishment and victory. Last weekend I was in Red Deer for a big event - the Central Alberta Celebration with Will Graham.

Now I'm tired. And behind on laundry.

That's about it.

People are people too.

Is there a difference between personal and professional relationships? I always thought there was. I believed in some very important distinction. It occurred to me recently I don't know what that distinction is. Now I'm wondering if all relationships aren't "personal". If they involve people, how could it be otherwise? Oddly this little shift in thinking effects how I think of people in my "professional" sphere, how I interact with them and how I treat them. Not only close colleagues, but suppliers, clients, media, and any other stakeholders.

Halloween Costumes: Round I

Halloween is already showing up in the stores and at Calloway Park which prompted a conversation about what the girls wanted to be this year. Kaylee said she wanted to be a hook.

"A hook?" I asked. I was unclear.

"Yeah, a hook like to hang coats on," she explained.

...Ok.

"I want to be bird," Emily jumped in. That seemed more normal, but she wasn't quite done. "A bird with wings that can really fly. No, with a button you can push so the bird can fly by magic, when you push the button."

Alrighty. I'll get right on that.

There's no place like home

I was humming A Little Fall of Rain from Les Miz . The girls told me to sing it louder. I did. They wanted to know what it was about. I told them. I didn’t fluff over it too much. I told them the story of Eponine getting shot and dying and Marius being with her before she went to Heaven.

“Why did she get shot?” they asked.

I told them she was helping people who were fighting for something. They wanted to change things, to make them better for everyone. It was called the French Revolution.

“What’s the French Revolution?” they asked. Wow, how had I gotten myself into this?!

I ran through the basics of absolute monarchies, the feudal system, societal oppression, human selfishness, and used Veggie Tales, King George and the Ducky to illustrate. Ta da!

“Why?” they asked.

“What do you mean, why? I just explained it all. They needed to change things – to make things better.”

“But fighting isn’t a good way to change things, is it Mommy?” Emily countered.

Are you kidding me!? I was just recovering my history lesson on the French Revolution aimed at a 3 ½ year-old audience, and now we were delving into philosophy and human psychology! A deep breath.

“Well, do you want the little kids’ answer or the real answer?” I asked

They said they wanted the real answer. I guess it was a dumb question. My best answer was that fighting always had to be done very carefully because when you fight, people often get hurt – sometimes very badly. There are lots of ways to change things and often there are much better ways then fighting. Fighting is dangerous. But sometimes things are bad enough and the options are so limited that there is no other choice. Then you have to fight.

I’m sure they took it all in. They wanted to play Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz then. I was much relieved. I can handle being Glenda, the Good Witch of the North and Auntie Em simultaneously. There’s no place like home.

God and the Velveteen Rabbit

The other day as we were walking to the park Emily asked me, “Will God become real one day, like the Velveteen Rabbit?” So interesting to watch them work through spirituality, magic, story and reality. I don’t mind at all if they blend a bit for now. In fact I think those things blending a bit more wouldn’t hurt any of us.

Sometimes they’ll ask me if something’s really real. I’m always reluctant to give them a direct answer. On a wooded path at the Lake Kalyee asked me once if fairies were real. “Well, I’ve never actually seen one,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t look for them. I think this is a good fairy path. Don’t you?”

I know many would accuse me of confusing my children. How can they learn to distinguish between inalienable truth of God and His Son, Jesus Christ, if we mix in magic and myth? They won’t be able to discern truth from fantasy. It will undermine their faith, their relationship with God, why, the very salvation of their souls!

Yet my instincts tell me the opposite is true. Creating a capacity for belief, imagination and comprehending a reality beyond what our five senses can perceive is not a simple thing. I think it’s innate to each of us, but complex too. Not only is God real, but there is room in His Kingdom for magic and mystery. And in fact, we don’t know everything. I think it’s possible that if we look for fairies along paths in the forest we might just find them.

Sandbox Managment

I was watching Emily and Kaylee in the sandbox the other day and was contemplating management philosophy.

They developed a complex project that involved creating a creek and a reservoir from a left over rain puddle in their sandbox. As I watched them I figured out what they were doing, what they were trying to achieve, what their obstacles where, and what resources they were lacking. Having made those determinations I assessed my possible role and function in this project - how I could join the game in the sandbox. I had power and resources they were lacking. I could provide what they needed. (In this case additional water and two soup ladles from the kitchen).

It's easy for me to philosophize about management, not actually having to do it, but what if leaders stepped back and watched their teams to see what they were doing and then reengaged only to provide them what the needed to get it done? Or is that totally backwards?

Communcations 101 - Remedial School

I have a problem. I think prayer (at lease the way I know how to do it) is contrived.

That probably means I'm doing it wrong. Is that possible? I've sat through 152 teachings on prayer. (Yes, I've counted. It's 152!) But somehow I still don't get it.

Darkness

This morning when I woke up for work, it was dark. That's the first time it's been dark when I woke up since last winter. That's just about the most depressing day of the year, accept for when it's dark when I leave work too. But I think I've got a bit of time before that happens.

I think if it's dark, I should be asleep. I think that would be a good rule.

When I become Queen of the World, that will be my first law.

Stories

I like stories.

I think life is made up of a series of intertwined stories. I like sharing stories with people - being part of their stories and having them in mine. Sometimes it's fun to write or think about daily circumstances in story language. At first it seemed silly or exaggerated, but then I realized it really isn't, nessesarily. It's just a different way of looking at a situation.

It helps a bit if you have some folks around to provide a little drama and intrigue. Too much drama isn't good though. Just a little bit. :-)

Rob made me post

Rob told me to post, but I'm a bit void of inspiration today. So I'll babble. What fun is a personal blog if you can't babble about useless drivel?

We just got back from a 2.5 weeks at the Lake. It was a weird mix of fun and chaos and peace and busyness. Somehow the time evaporated and I didn't get to read nearly as much as I'd planned. That always happens. I never learn. I did manage to run or swim "laps" almost every day. I wrote a fair bit. I thought a lot. Mostly in a self-focused, indulgent kind of way about my own dreams and hopes. I thought a lot about things I've been learning recently. There's been a lot.

We had "church" on the pier two Sundays. Celebrating Communion with friends and family that were guests at the Lake. That's good church! I shared the first Sunday about how I think I might be learning how God talks to me, but I'm not sure. I'm a bit slow on the uptake after 15 years of being a Christian. Maybe I'll post about that later.

We buried my Uncle Kinley's ashes. He passed away three years ago, but we were waiting till "the whole family" could be together to "plant him", as my dad would say. We didn't succeed in getting the whole family there. My sister and cousin's husband were missing. We went ahead, though, with their permission.

Kaylee got a wasp sting and the girls made up a magical mythological creature that is pink with polka dots and wings and comes out to eat "bad bugs" but never gets seen by people.

I ate too much and I'm sure I gained weight!

Goose Bumps

What gives you goose bumps?

There's two kinds of goose bumps I get. The creepy stories, spooked out goose bumps, and other kind. The kind where something is cool and intense, in a deep kind of way. Those are my favourite kind!

But I was wondering where they come from. What they mean. Some kind of emotional response must release a physiological reaction causing those little bumps on your skin.

Once I heard someone call them "God bumps" instead of goose bumps. My reaction was about as charitable as it is when people call pot lucks, "pot blesses" because "we don't believe in luck". =sigh=

But today I got goose bumps listening to Eminem. (I know, my soul is in peril...) and something just hit me that way, that cool, intense, deep kind of way. And I thought about "God bumps" and I thought about how God speaks to me (I'm not sure really) and what his voice should sound like, should feel like. That seems about right, cool, intense, deep in a way that defies any kind of coherent explanation. Maybe they are "God bumps" after all.

And maybe, just maybe, God speaks through Eminem. Go figure.

Kid Wisdom

My three-year-olds keep challenging me. I don't mean with unrelenting temper tantrums or incessant "why's". They challenge me philosophically. And I don't mean parenting philosophies. I mean life philosophies.

Yesterday Kaylee said, "I get a good feeling when there's something new." There was no context for her statement so I basically had no idea what she was talking about.

"Like excited?" I asked.

"No, more like brave," she said.

I was struck again that new situations require some level of courage for all of us and that courage or "brave" is a "good feeling". Three-year-olds actually know what they're talking about sometimes. It's worth listening.

Also I was beginning to think my idea about broken things becoming something new was backfiring on me. Kalyee and Emily got little plastic yo-yos in party bags from Mathias's one-year-old birthday yesterday. Kaylee had wanted a yo-yo like forever. As soon as she got it home and started playing with it, it hit the floor too hard, and split in two. Kalyee was devistated. We talked about it and I hugged her, but I didn't bring up my broken things becoming new theory. I couldn't really think how a broken plastic yo-yo could be anything but a broken plastic yo-yo. That just goes to prove my limited creativity and insight.

The next moring Kaylee got up and asked for her broken yo-yo parts. I gave them to her. She looked at them and declared that they were now extra hockey pucks for playing hockey.

"I want to break my yo-yo too!" Emily said. Now this was getting out of controle. I didn't want the girls to be randomly breaking toys!

"But, Emmy, if you break your yo-yo, you won't have your yo-yo anymore," I tried to explain.

"But if I don't break it, it can't become something new..."

I let her break her yo-yo.

Something Broken - Something New

The other day, Emily and Kaylee each had a candy watch with a square candy face. Kalyee dropped her's and it broke into four or five pieces.

"Wahhhhhhhh!"

I came to see what was wrong.

"It breaked, and I don't want it to be breaked!" she was in a panic.

I told her I didn't think I could fix it. That led to hieghtened hysterics.

"I can't fix it," I said. "But sometimes when something get's broken, it becomes something new."

Emily thought that was a pretty good deal, and so she threw her's on the floor intentionally to break it.

"Look Kaylee!" Emily delcared excitedly as she inspected the newly broken pieces of her candy watch. "It turns into candy!" (The fact that it was already candy was entirly beside the point.)

Kaylee was unconvinced and continued to cry. Emily was determined.

"Look Kalyee! It's a new thing! Just try it Kaylee."

Eventually Kaylee consided and tried her "new candy". She decided it was pretty good after all - even if it tased suspicioulsy like the old candy.

I like the idea that something broken, can become something new.

Risky Language

I'm not quite done A New Kind of Christian yet. I know I'm a slow reader. Actually I'm an average to fast reader who just hardly ever gets a chance to sit down with a book! (Sorry, little rant there...)

I found a quote in I liked, " Spiritual realities require risky language." That makes so much sense to me.

I know it's cliche by now, but I love that CS Lewis quote from Narnia that the Beavers tell the children when they discover that Aslan is a lion and ask if he's safe. The Beavers tell them that Aslan isn't safe at all, but he's good.

Somehow that fits in the same category for me.

Heat makes storms

It's really hot.

I like thunderstoms.

That's all.

Belief vs Knowledge

Oh, many moons ago now, we did a bible study one night on faith. It got me wondering is it possible to believe in something, say in God, but not know 100% for sure that he exists? Like, I believe he exists but I don't know absolutly for sure.

I've come to think that faith requires doubt.

If you know something 100% for sure, you don't need faith. If I have faith in God, it means on some level, I'm not sure.

A new kind of Christian makes me mental

Everyone said read Brian McLaren. His book, A New Kind of Christian, is great. It’s radical. It’s a new way of thinking. So I read it. And it totally freaked me out. But not because it’s so radical. Rather most of what he proposes is an unmitigated no-brainer to me. I don’t mean to sound arrogant. It’s a good book and all, but most of what he presents as new and edgy I thought was standard Christianity. Rob reminds me of a couple of differences between the author and myself. He’s an American evangelical writing almost 10 years ago. I’m a younger Canadian, (younger than Brian McLaren anyway…) with a secular up brining who was “saved” into the Anglican Church as a young adult. My worldview is different.

Okay.

But here’s my problem. It says in his book, and I’m starting to see in among some Christians I know, that what he talks about is considered heresy. I can’t even express how much that disturbs me.

I guess it has me on edge for a couple of reasons.

1. I don’t want people to think I’m heretical. I don’t want people to be afraid of me. That makes me sad. Or to think I’m falling away from my faith or questioning basic tenants of the faith. I’m not. It makes me angry people would question that. (Although, admittedly, I when around evangelicals I tend to emphasis the fact that I’m a “liturgical” Christian as opposed to an “evangelical” Christian (in fact, I’m both as well as “charismatic”) not that those distinctions matter much to me, but it just amuses me to see the obvious line of questions to do with veracity of my salvation run across their minds. Sometimes they voice them, sometimes they don’t.)

2. There is a version of Christianity I think is destructive. This is the version McLaren is questioning in his book. I think there is a way of doing Christianity that hurts some people, that causes them to become more distant from God, that draws them away from hope, and into despair. I’ve heard of it, and I’ve seen it happen. It makes me sad to see it, but it enrages me to see people defend this form of Christianity as the only true expression of Christian faith. Like, really really enrages me.

3. Its stupid (i.e. thoughtless, fear-based, ignorant and shortsighted) and stupid stuff bugs me.

4. And the thing that gets me the most, is that I think I’ve actually seen it. That’s what really freaks me out. I think it’s alive and well, not just some relic of modern American culture. It’s here, in my own Christian communities. I think it’s controlling forces that could be used for untold good within the church and parachurch world - holding them hostage, keeping them stagnant. That makes me mental.

5. I don’t know what to do about it.

I realize I haven’t done a good job explaining what this “destructive” version of Christianity is – what it looks like. But I guess I’d need a book to do that. I also haven’t really explained McLaren’s premise in A New Kind of Christian, so, since he does both in his book, I suggest you read it. Then at least you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Fluid church communities

I wonder about what holds church communities together. Our community, King’s Bridge, is so different we’ve wondered if we even are technically a “church”. Every time we have this discussion we decide that we are. But we have community members that are involved in other churches. We have people that drift through our community and stay for brief periods and then move on. We have some that stay. Some have been with us since the beginning. It’s very fluid and very relational.

We criticize those who “church hop” admonishing them to find a community where there can lock in and invest and be invested in. I’ve always agreed with that, finding church hopers to be flaky, fickle and self-interested.

But, on the other hand, maybe it’s okay for churches to be a little more open handed with their members. Maybe if Christians moved around and settled into certain communities for periods of time then moved on, that’d be okay. Maybe they have a few communities on the go at once. It seems to me the crosspollination is a good thing. We would link with each other within the body of Christ based on other premises than official church membership. Let’s not be so freaked out about losing members to other congregations. Let's see how we can help meet the needs within the body of Christ together.

The non-un people

We Christians like categories.

The one that bugs me most right now is the "non-un people". You know, the unchurched, non-Chrsitans, unsaved people - them. I'm not sure it's a helpful way to refer to people. Really, how'd you like to be a non-un person? And is it possible to have a way of looking at other people on whatever journey they are on that doesn't include an us vs. them attitude?

I know God will judge everyone at the end of time and He will seperate the sheep from the goats, yaddy yadda. But that's for God to do, not me.

I'm wondering what would happen if we stopped being so condesending and demoraizing to people by using terms that began with 'non' and 'un'. Maybe they'd come to understand Christ's love and redeeming power in their lives sooner.

Maybe we would too.

Chop sticks and other gender stereotypes

Rob and I took the girls for "Pho" tonight. Kaylee pointed out that girls use chopsticks and boys use forks. I was a generalization based on the fact that I use chopsticks and Rob doesn't. It scares me a bit because I wonder what other generalizations and observations about life are they picking up from us. Gender based or not. Lots, I guess. That's how it's suposed to work. But, like, yikes! I'm a mess! It scares me.

I just wanna be a sheep

You know, I still want to be one of the herd. I'm not a teenager anymore, not even close =sigh=. I wish I didn't care about fitting in and being accepted anymore, but I do. It seems by now I should have gained the confidence, or self actualization, or whatever, to be myself, and stand strongly behind what I believe, and those I believe in.

I've realized recently I'll do almost anything to gain acceptance of "the group". I came close to justifying the idea of tearing down one friend to gain acceptance another (who I knew was mad at the first - it would have been an such an easy in). I was a bit horrified when I realized what I had been contemplating on a somewhat subconscious level.

Please tell me I'll outgrow this.

Rod & Todd Flanders

Emily and Kaylee have recently taken to playing "Communion". They break off pieces of thier buttered bun, that was for dipping in their soup, and say, "The body of Jesus for you", then the give each other drinks of milk, "The blood of Jesus for you."

They continue with with, "I'm a disciple!" Or, the only slightly heretical, "I'm Jesus!"

I supose I should be encouraged at this seemingly advanced spiritual exploration and development. But it kinda freaks me out. Kids playing "Communion" doesn't seem normal. I guess I have a running subtext in my head about the sterotypical, and irrevocably messed up, pastor's kids. Also, growing up normal myself, (i.e. not Christian) I don't have a frame of reference for this sort of thing.

It kinda reminds of Rod & Todd Flanders. I'll try to remain calm and ride it out.