It was late Thursday night. I had just finished dropping one of Brady's friends off at his house. They had just come back from a night at youth being pulled while sitting on tubes, behind ATV's, while holding on to a ski pole.
I don't know either.
Alas, the night had been a tiring one. so the conversation was not prolific. Okay, I realize we are talking about two guys here, so it is never prolific, mostly just grunts and farts but I digress. (I know, sorry mom, I mentioned "farting" again. My mom was a little worried that I might not get a new job if I talk about "farts" in my blog because a potential employer might read this and not hire me. It's not the farts mom, it's pretty much the entire deal. And I have not even mentioned the "Poo Log"). Honestly, I am trying not to mention "windies", but they just happen to fit in with this post.
Oh, who am I kidding, farts fit just about anywhere. Seriously, even funerals.
A few years ago we were at the graveside of my mother-in-law Marilyn. She had recently lost a four year battle to cancer. Loved "Mars." We had a sweet relationship. Only a few nights before she passed away, I had traveled up to Edmonton from Calgary to visit her in the hospital. It had been a number of weeks since I had been up to see her and things were going down hill. At this point, she was not able to speak and fairly weak, although she was still fairly aware of her surroundings.
When I entered the hospital room our eyes met, and I said, "Mom, listen, you don't need to say anything. Honestly we can just keep it between us, but I know I have always been your favorite son-in-law. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. It's just between you and me. My lips are sealed." I figure I got the biggest eye roll I have ever seen. I am pretty sure she tried to utter, "Yes you are" but if I were to be honest, it closer to "Who let him in here." But potatoe patatoe...
Well, a number of family and friends are at the graveside service.
It is April in Alberta and therefore it is a snowy muddy mess. There is a rather small area directly around the grave, so the immediate family (Carla's 2 brothers, sister, spouses, dad, and kidlets) are up close, and the rest of those attending are about 15 feet or so behind. It has already been an exhausting day for the whole family. Many tears were already shed at the memorial service. The graveside service is nearing an end, emotions are high and it is coming close to the point where the family are going to put some flowers on the casket, as the final act of saying goodbye. Everyone is feeling it. At this point, as the pastor begins to share some final thoughts, I am standing beside my brother-in-law Paul (married to Carla's sister Shauna), who is holding his young son Joel's hand. Joel has been a trooper, yet we are all aware that he is edging extremely close to capacity for sitting still. Paul is doing his best, but knew he better take the kid out quick or something is going to blow. He was a little late. Joel let's a huge fart rip. Like huge. Loud enough that Carla's entire family could hear it. Well, Carla's two brothers start to lose it. They can barely contain themselves. And let's get serious, that sets us all off. We are crying with laughter. To boot, the rest of those gathered have no clue what has happened and only see the entire family sobbing. People are so overcome with our apparent grief that they start crying. Unbelievable.
So yes, farts can squeeze in nicely pretty much anywhere.
Anyway, B-man and I were finishing the last few minutes of the ride home catching up about the day, when our convo took a turn.
"Dad, I was thinking that you could sell my snowboard stuff."
"Why do you say that buddy?"
"Well, I don't think we are going to go up to Big White anytime soon."
"I don't think you can say that Brady I..."
I clued in to where he was going with it.
"Does this have anything to do with me not working?"
"Yea. It's just that I know money is tight and I don't want you to feel any pressure, and I know snowboarding is really expensive, and I can always learn next year."
It was at this point I considered stopping our van, jumping out, lying down in front of it and telling my son to drive over me. Twice. It was like my heart was ripped out of my chest. Man, when your life as an adult starts to impact your kids at that level, it sucks. Plain and simple. As you walk whatever journey you are on being an adult, I think you try and maintain a certain level of hope and promise for your kids, so as to somehow shelter them from the reality of what is going down sometimes. When that facade breaks, the darkness comes running.
It's not easy being unemployed for obvious reasons. It's harder for the unexpected ones. Like telling your kids that you really do believe God cares enough to take an active role in your life. That he can be trusted. That he will show up. That he has already showed up. But that Christmas is gonna look a little different this year. That we have to be extra careful about spending money. That...
I think too many "that's" started clouding the picture for Brady. I told him we were not going to sell his gear and we most certainly will go to Big White this year. What else do you say? I would buy that kid the whole mountain. But sometimes, the doubt creeps in for me too.
Do I doubt God? Nope.
Do I doubt my capacity to fully trust him all the time? Yep.
I found some respite in a little story tucked into a book of the Bible. Luke. Chapter 7 verses 18 - 21. John is one of Jesus' best friends. They are tight. Yet John is not having a good day. So much so, that he is just a wee bit uncertain about this whole life commitment deal to Jesus. So, being a man, John asks two friends to go and talk to Jesus on his behalf. Unreal. Alas, the two dudes find Jesus and ask "John was wondering if you are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?" Beautiful. So, Jesus, are you being tricky or what? Like can I really believe you are the Messiah, the guy who came to redeem his people or am I just kidding myself. Cause you know what? I am freaking out here Jesus!"
Jesus drops the hammer. Giddy up boys.
(Verse 21-23)
"At that very time Jesus cured many who had diseases, sicknesses and evil spirits, and gave sight to many who were blind. So he replied to the messengers, “Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.”
"John, it is all good. I am the real deal. But dude, don't let me trip you up. If your trust is fickle your faith will be futile."
Again Jesus gently, graciously, powerfully, precisely responds to his friends doubts. And in turn responds to mine.
Scott you can freak out, you can struggle, you can wonder why your kids have to endure this journey with you, you can try and figure out the timing but if you believe. Believe. Cause I am who I say I am and I can do what I say I can do. And frankly, you can take that to the mountain.
Let me tell you, the money might be slim, but the journey is rich.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Naughty or Nice
Earlier today I asked my daughter Caedyn if she had been "naughty" or "nice" this past year with the perspective of her hoping to illicit the benefits of a positive relationship with Santa. She replied like so:
"Umm, not so nice."
"What does that mean Caedyn?"
"Well, I would say I have been naughty."
"Really. And how have you been naughty this past year?"
"I say bad words pretty much everyday."
Instantaneously I have a flashback to a few months ago when I had to dive for cover as the f-bombs were flying out of her mouth faster than when... well, when you are in a store, oh, let's just say, The Real Canadian Superstore for example, and you are minding your own business walking each incredibly freaking long aisle, and you turn the corner to go down the next huge aisle of despair, and yep, you run straight into... fart.
Thick fart air.
Completely disgusting. The problem is you are so intent on getting that huge jar of pickles for cheap (sorry, that is if you buy 6 of them with purple labels before 4:00pm with your left hand on odd days of the week) that you can't avoid it. And no matter how fast you sprint out of the aisle it somehow follows you and the odor attaches itself to your hair. So every like 3 minutes you whip around, trying to figure out where that wretched smell of hot foot mixed with sweaty bum is coming from. Brutal. And it's always left by some dude where jogging pants. I have no clue what the correlation is there but it is not pretty.
Anyway it's that fast, even if speed is not mentioned in that story.
Needless to say my interest was tweaked with my daughters apparent analysis that she is naughty. "Caedyn, what bad words do you say?"
"Well, dad, I say 'hate' and 'stupid' all the time."
"Wow, honey, why would you say those things all the time?"
"Cause things are stupid."
This is where parenting gets a little tricky. Cause all I am thinking is, I know who is stupid. Dude who dropped a bomb in Pooperstore. He is completely stupid. Alas I do not say this, instead I say what any good parent would, "Well, Santa keeps the list and he pretty much knows who is naughty and who is nice and gives presents accordingly."
Apparently that was not the right thing to say because we now have a 5 year old bawling her eyes out.
Lovely.
So I grab Caedyn, give her a hug, and tell her that mom say's those words all the time and that Santa would really like her to finish her spaghetti.
My parenting tips are free.
"Umm, not so nice."
"What does that mean Caedyn?"
"Well, I would say I have been naughty."
"Really. And how have you been naughty this past year?"
"I say bad words pretty much everyday."
Instantaneously I have a flashback to a few months ago when I had to dive for cover as the f-bombs were flying out of her mouth faster than when... well, when you are in a store, oh, let's just say, The Real Canadian Superstore for example, and you are minding your own business walking each incredibly freaking long aisle, and you turn the corner to go down the next huge aisle of despair, and yep, you run straight into... fart.
Thick fart air.
Completely disgusting. The problem is you are so intent on getting that huge jar of pickles for cheap (sorry, that is if you buy 6 of them with purple labels before 4:00pm with your left hand on odd days of the week) that you can't avoid it. And no matter how fast you sprint out of the aisle it somehow follows you and the odor attaches itself to your hair. So every like 3 minutes you whip around, trying to figure out where that wretched smell of hot foot mixed with sweaty bum is coming from. Brutal. And it's always left by some dude where jogging pants. I have no clue what the correlation is there but it is not pretty.
Anyway it's that fast, even if speed is not mentioned in that story.
Needless to say my interest was tweaked with my daughters apparent analysis that she is naughty. "Caedyn, what bad words do you say?"
"Well, dad, I say 'hate' and 'stupid' all the time."
"Wow, honey, why would you say those things all the time?"
"Cause things are stupid."
This is where parenting gets a little tricky. Cause all I am thinking is, I know who is stupid. Dude who dropped a bomb in Pooperstore. He is completely stupid. Alas I do not say this, instead I say what any good parent would, "Well, Santa keeps the list and he pretty much knows who is naughty and who is nice and gives presents accordingly."
Apparently that was not the right thing to say because we now have a 5 year old bawling her eyes out.
Lovely.
So I grab Caedyn, give her a hug, and tell her that mom say's those words all the time and that Santa would really like her to finish her spaghetti.
My parenting tips are free.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
The Unemployed
Sometimes it is incredibly hard to blog. When you get a few readers, your thoughts start to drift in a new direction.
This better be funny.
What if I say too much.
How many people am I going to offend today (and yes I have received emails)
Why won't my wife let me tell that story.
Should I use the word "nipple"
It's crazy. So at times I get a little more wrapped up in me than in you. I know completely selfish. Alas, you see, I don't have a job right now and wherever I go, those little demons of insecurity walk right with me.
"You are such a loser Lanigan."
"Who in their right mind stops what they are doing for nothing."
"People are staring at you cause they can tell you don't have a job. Well, that and let's get serious, your pants are a bit tight."
"Yea, friends tell you that they know something good is coming, it was the right move, blah, blah, blah. But you don't have a job yet do you. And who is kidding who, they are all thinking glad it is him and not me."
"How are you gonna pay that bill sucker."
"One step forward 2 steps back baby. Keep it up."
It's hard shaking those guys. They go through walls, hop in your car, sit down beside you for coffee, hop on other people's shoulders and inspire them to say stupid things. And they are relentless.
Daily I am confronted with discovering, debating and despairing about what God would have me do. I took a step of faith God. There has got to be a little something something doesn't there? And the reminders of where I am at and what I am not doing come come calling everyday as I run into another person at Costco. Or Safeway. Or someone emails or calls... So I gotta ask Scott, 'What's up? What are you doing?'
And sometimes you make it sound like more is happening than it really is.
"Well I had 4 incomprehensible meetings this week. Talking about some incredible opportunities which are on the cusp of exploding with possibility. Totally jacked about them."
That or you squeeze out a fart and clear the area (just point at the lady who just walked by and shake your head)
There are moments of exhilaration and moments of terror. Moments where you feel like you can literally take on anything, and moments where you afraid to take the next phone call. Tears and high fives.
Here I am, almost 40, almost at the last dollar, almost "there" but not quite.
I ran into a quote from Gail Sheehy in the book by Richard Stearns "The Hole in our Gospel" (story of how he became the president of World Vision USA).
"Growth demands a temporary surrender of security."
One of those quotes that causes you to pretend you didn't read it. Problem is I read it. The word that comes screaming at me from that quote is "surrender." It is so not a word we like to use. That means I have to give up, let go, release, free, open my hands, step out of the boat, walk into the darkness, listen to the beckoning of my soul.
I feel like I have ended up on that train whether I like it or not. But I am choosing to like it. I am not doing this for kicks. I am not doing those so I can write a book about it later or call in a favor.
I am doing this because.
Because this life, as much as I want it to be, is not about me. Because if the reality of God is in my heart it has got to go to my hands and feet. Because I strive to reject instant gratification. Because I have 3 kids watching me. Because I want to live.
I realize that I am going to fail. Take yesterday for example. Fear ran in and gladly took the place of surrender. But today is different. Today is tender. For a lot of reasons. Today is a day of growth.
Check these out for some better words...
Stuff
Wisdom
Surrender
Because
This better be funny.
What if I say too much.
How many people am I going to offend today (and yes I have received emails)
Why won't my wife let me tell that story.
Should I use the word "nipple"
It's crazy. So at times I get a little more wrapped up in me than in you. I know completely selfish. Alas, you see, I don't have a job right now and wherever I go, those little demons of insecurity walk right with me.
"You are such a loser Lanigan."
"Who in their right mind stops what they are doing for nothing."
"People are staring at you cause they can tell you don't have a job. Well, that and let's get serious, your pants are a bit tight."
"Yea, friends tell you that they know something good is coming, it was the right move, blah, blah, blah. But you don't have a job yet do you. And who is kidding who, they are all thinking glad it is him and not me."
"How are you gonna pay that bill sucker."
"One step forward 2 steps back baby. Keep it up."
It's hard shaking those guys. They go through walls, hop in your car, sit down beside you for coffee, hop on other people's shoulders and inspire them to say stupid things. And they are relentless.
Daily I am confronted with discovering, debating and despairing about what God would have me do. I took a step of faith God. There has got to be a little something something doesn't there? And the reminders of where I am at and what I am not doing come come calling everyday as I run into another person at Costco. Or Safeway. Or someone emails or calls... So I gotta ask Scott, 'What's up? What are you doing?'
And sometimes you make it sound like more is happening than it really is.
"Well I had 4 incomprehensible meetings this week. Talking about some incredible opportunities which are on the cusp of exploding with possibility. Totally jacked about them."
That or you squeeze out a fart and clear the area (just point at the lady who just walked by and shake your head)
There are moments of exhilaration and moments of terror. Moments where you feel like you can literally take on anything, and moments where you afraid to take the next phone call. Tears and high fives.
Here I am, almost 40, almost at the last dollar, almost "there" but not quite.
I ran into a quote from Gail Sheehy in the book by Richard Stearns "The Hole in our Gospel" (story of how he became the president of World Vision USA).
"Growth demands a temporary surrender of security."
One of those quotes that causes you to pretend you didn't read it. Problem is I read it. The word that comes screaming at me from that quote is "surrender." It is so not a word we like to use. That means I have to give up, let go, release, free, open my hands, step out of the boat, walk into the darkness, listen to the beckoning of my soul.
I feel like I have ended up on that train whether I like it or not. But I am choosing to like it. I am not doing this for kicks. I am not doing those so I can write a book about it later or call in a favor.
I am doing this because.
Because this life, as much as I want it to be, is not about me. Because if the reality of God is in my heart it has got to go to my hands and feet. Because I strive to reject instant gratification. Because I have 3 kids watching me. Because I want to live.
I realize that I am going to fail. Take yesterday for example. Fear ran in and gladly took the place of surrender. But today is different. Today is tender. For a lot of reasons. Today is a day of growth.
Check these out for some better words...
Stuff
Wisdom
Surrender
Because
Friday, October 29, 2010
Amen
My friend Lawrence East claims that the first time he met Mother Theresa in person (and yes, there are many more stories like this one and no, I haven't a clue if they are true either) she blessed everything in his life from that day forward.
Therefore bringing light to the fact that he dives into every meal like only every male slobbering Brit can... without using a napkin nor saying a blessing. And how this video ended up in my aresenal.
Therefore bringing light to the fact that he dives into every meal like only every male slobbering Brit can... without using a napkin nor saying a blessing. And how this video ended up in my aresenal.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Oh the mall
Went to the mall.
It was me and the girls power shopping. Now when you are with a 9 year old (and yes I must footnote that Megan did indeed let me know that I mind as well say '10' because she is '10' in less than 30 days and therefore basically '10') and a 5 year old, serious shopping involves the following:
"Dad, we are totally starving."
3 minutes in and apparently we hit a wall of starvation. Incredible. And against all my instincts, values and sense of manhood I digressed to the whims of my girls and spent way too much money on one little bag of this. I am still bitter.
"Dad, I have a gift card for jewelry."
Sigh. I am convinced that my 9, er. 10 year old will never grasp the concept that gift cards are not an eternal fountain of money. I pray for her husband.
"Daddy, let's go here but we'll just look. I know, I know we are not buying any unless they are a super good deal and really cute. "
They should rename the store "Paylessmoretimes"
"Daddy my legs hurt so much. Hey, ice cream!"
I have no explanation either.
"Dad! Dad! I have to pee right now! I'm shaking."
Stunning since 3 minutes previous we passed a washroom and unless I am going insane (which I must admit is quite possible) I remember stating the phrase "Does anyone have to piddle cause we are right by the washroom and I don't want to pass the lovely opportunity up as I am quite certain that if we don't, in three minutes someone is going to wet their pants."
"Dad I totally need some makeup to look beautiful."
I know. That's when the whole 'beauty comes from the inside' talk unleashes again but slightly difficult to contextualize as I had just finished trying on some skinny jeans. Having the entire store gasp was not as bad as hearing your daughter say "wow."
"Daddy, everyone I know already has a shirt from this store and it just opened. Like we never get stuff first."
Yes, I do it on purpose to torture my children. Actually now I just say, "Honey your dad doesn't have a job." Works pretty good until Megan chirps in, "Wendy's is hiring."
"Daddy both of us cannot feel our arms or legs we are so hungry."
I couldn't feel my legs either but I wasn't complaining. It's like impossible to peel those skinny jeans off.
To end off an incredibly relaxing trip to the mall I decided to pop into one store. They were having a sale and thought hey, maybe I could find a little something something. No sooner did I enter the store, Caedyn disappears. Gone. Not hiding in the racks. Not in the kids section. I didn't hear anyone singing Beyonce. Nothing. I am calling, no answer. Not completely at the edge of panic, I launch into an in-store scan from one end to the other and just as I am heading to a store employee, the corner of my eye catches something...
It was me and the girls power shopping. Now when you are with a 9 year old (and yes I must footnote that Megan did indeed let me know that I mind as well say '10' because she is '10' in less than 30 days and therefore basically '10') and a 5 year old, serious shopping involves the following:
"Dad, we are totally starving."
3 minutes in and apparently we hit a wall of starvation. Incredible. And against all my instincts, values and sense of manhood I digressed to the whims of my girls and spent way too much money on one little bag of this. I am still bitter.
"Dad, I have a gift card for jewelry."
Sigh. I am convinced that my 9, er. 10 year old will never grasp the concept that gift cards are not an eternal fountain of money. I pray for her husband.
"Daddy, let's go here but we'll just look. I know, I know we are not buying any unless they are a super good deal and really cute. "
They should rename the store "Paylessmoretimes"
"Daddy my legs hurt so much. Hey, ice cream!"
I have no explanation either.
"Dad! Dad! I have to pee right now! I'm shaking."
Stunning since 3 minutes previous we passed a washroom and unless I am going insane (which I must admit is quite possible) I remember stating the phrase "Does anyone have to piddle cause we are right by the washroom and I don't want to pass the lovely opportunity up as I am quite certain that if we don't, in three minutes someone is going to wet their pants."
"Dad I totally need some makeup to look beautiful."
I know. That's when the whole 'beauty comes from the inside' talk unleashes again but slightly difficult to contextualize as I had just finished trying on some skinny jeans. Having the entire store gasp was not as bad as hearing your daughter say "wow."
"Daddy, everyone I know already has a shirt from this store and it just opened. Like we never get stuff first."
Yes, I do it on purpose to torture my children. Actually now I just say, "Honey your dad doesn't have a job." Works pretty good until Megan chirps in, "Wendy's is hiring."
"Daddy both of us cannot feel our arms or legs we are so hungry."
I couldn't feel my legs either but I wasn't complaining. It's like impossible to peel those skinny jeans off.
To end off an incredibly relaxing trip to the mall I decided to pop into one store. They were having a sale and thought hey, maybe I could find a little something something. No sooner did I enter the store, Caedyn disappears. Gone. Not hiding in the racks. Not in the kids section. I didn't hear anyone singing Beyonce. Nothing. I am calling, no answer. Not completely at the edge of panic, I launch into an in-store scan from one end to the other and just as I am heading to a store employee, the corner of my eye catches something...
To this day. I have no clue about the salute.
Just another day in the life...
Sunday, October 24, 2010
I could so do that.
Since finishing my job on October 15th, I have only found myself rolled up under my desk in the fetal position, about twice a week. Besides that I am cooking.
Well, okay, maybe the last time I found myself there wasn't that pretty, but it's not like I was totally naked.
After picking up my daughter Megan and her friend from their jazz class last week, Megan hopped into the car totally jacked.
Well, okay, maybe the last time I found myself there wasn't that pretty, but it's not like I was totally naked.
After picking up my daughter Megan and her friend from their jazz class last week, Megan hopped into the car totally jacked.
"Dad. Dad! I know what you can do. You can totally work at Wendy's."
I look in the rear view mirror and I have a daughter who is beaming. Stoked that she thought of a job that I could totally do. Like so good. Before I started weeping out of sheer depression, 3 things whipped through my skull:
1. I powned McDonald's back in the day, this is nothing. Crew Person of the Month 2 times baby. Plaque and everything. I can do this.
2. I could look hot in those poly pants. What am I thinking. This is not happening.
3. If I had to choose, I am so going to Home Depot first. At least there are manly tools there and I don't have to ask anyone if they want a Hot Stuffed Baked Potato with their order. Plus you would get to say "screw" and "tool" a lot.
Okay, I thought of four things. Like seriously, my daughter went through all the possible jobs I could do in her head, and #1 was firing on the polyester pants and working at the big W. Really? Not even like landscaping guy or pilot boy? Nope. You are so wendy's dad.
But there is hope. Hope that my daughter thinks I am awesome enough to serve Frosty's for a living. And hope that I don't end up serving frosty's for a living.
I just upped the average. Now it's three times a week you can find me under my desk. And I'm starting to hum lady gaga. This is not going to be pretty is it.
But there is hope. Hope that my daughter thinks I am awesome enough to serve Frosty's for a living. And hope that I don't end up serving frosty's for a living.
I just upped the average. Now it's three times a week you can find me under my desk. And I'm starting to hum lady gaga. This is not going to be pretty is it.
Monday, October 18, 2010
The Day After
So what does a "former" pastor do on his first Sunday off?
Well, he goes here.
(and runs into people he knows - of course - who are skipping this. Which really makes him laugh).
Packs the family into the van, decides to live free and wild (I know, very difficult to equate "free and wild" with a van. Alas, us "Sick" Dad's totally picture ourselves in the swagger wagon).
He takes the kidltets here. (Sorry, that should read 'follows his wife's precise instructions after being threatened that he will be riding a scooter the rest of his life even after he argue's about how "sick" he is to said wife. To which his wife points out that he needs to trim his ear hair because it looks disgusting)
Attends church.
He and his wife are highly impacted and therefore attend a second service held in a lovely grape garden. Consider attending full time.
Drives home. Makes these puppies to be dunked in left over turkey soup.
Let's get serious, I have incredibly nice biscuits.
Plays b-ball with his son (and dominates).
Watches this.
Hits this.
Loves this.... although pretty sure he is going to need this very soon.
Well, he goes here.
(and runs into people he knows - of course - who are skipping this. Which really makes him laugh).
Packs the family into the van, decides to live free and wild (I know, very difficult to equate "free and wild" with a van. Alas, us "Sick" Dad's totally picture ourselves in the swagger wagon).
He takes the kidltets here. (Sorry, that should read 'follows his wife's precise instructions after being threatened that he will be riding a scooter the rest of his life even after he argue's about how "sick" he is to said wife. To which his wife points out that he needs to trim his ear hair because it looks disgusting)
Attends church.
He and his wife are highly impacted and therefore attend a second service held in a lovely grape garden. Consider attending full time.
Drives home. Makes these puppies to be dunked in left over turkey soup.
Let's get serious, I have incredibly nice biscuits.
Plays b-ball with his son (and dominates).
Watches this.
Hits this.
Loves this.... although pretty sure he is going to need this very soon.
Friday, October 1, 2010
VHF - Liquid Genius
This ad earns the title "embarrassing" without even starting. Literally, when I watch this commercial I curl up in the fetal position and start whimpering. And all I can think of is "Why?" I am still at a loss.
Conversely, this ad leaves me speechless. Liquid Genius.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Fly Free
Struggling for words has never been a major issue for me (Okay, most of my friends are collectively shaking their heads at this point and saying, "No kidding Sherlock." Mind you, I picture them saying something more along the lines of, "No kidding Lanigan. But we still think you are like so totally super funny and incredibly good looking so don't worry about it because you are awesomer than awesomeness." And frankly, I am pretty sure my friend Jon says that all the time. Primarily because he grew up in Saskatchewan. Not that growing up in the flatlands is bad, it's just that he still struggles in his attempts to describe what a combine does, never mind the fact that he wears toque's with his name stitched into them. And yes, I can see how my description may lead you to lean heavily in the direction that he is special needs. He is not. Really.)
Today words are a bit of an issue (unless I am describing friends who may no longer be my friends). Mostly because I made a pretty big leap in my career and putting it to words just doesn't feel adequate.
I quit my job.
And I have got zip waiting in the wings. Nothing.
To be fair, the story is long, eventhough the journey has been short. Earlier this summer I sensed a major change coming yet struggled to make it happen. Well, hesitated to make it happen. Fear of my circumstances overwhelmed my faith in the supernatural.
Silly. Stupid is a better word but we are not supposed to say that in our house. Apparently, we are allowed to 'sort of' say words though. Caedyn helped us understand this point the other night when she proudly exclaimed "I still know what the 'F' word is" Here's the whole story.
Eventhough I knew deep down that I needed to make a change, I was overwhelmed with the here and now. I desperately wanted to get some things in order first. And who wouldn't if they figured on making an occupational change in the near future. There was one problem. God was calling me to step out into the uncontrolled, unseen, unfreakingnerving unknown. To trust him above my circumstances.
Leave the details to me Scott. It's time to Fly Free.
After all my worry, all my failed attempts at controlling, I finally relented. I allowed that Big God to show up. And amazingly, supernaturally, profoundly I sit here today, completely at peace. In the midst of having no clue where any money is coming from after October 15th (which is less than 3 weeks away).
When I get a little tense thinking about the future these words beckon me to remember who is in control.
-Isaiah 55
I will share the whole story in the near future. For now, check out my sermon from a number of weeks ago. It was smack dab in the middle of my battlefield.
Big Idea was: Big Faith in the midst of Big Fear allows and even Bigger God to show up.
The Vid of My Sermon
Today words are a bit of an issue (unless I am describing friends who may no longer be my friends). Mostly because I made a pretty big leap in my career and putting it to words just doesn't feel adequate.
I quit my job.
And I have got zip waiting in the wings. Nothing.
To be fair, the story is long, eventhough the journey has been short. Earlier this summer I sensed a major change coming yet struggled to make it happen. Well, hesitated to make it happen. Fear of my circumstances overwhelmed my faith in the supernatural.
Silly. Stupid is a better word but we are not supposed to say that in our house. Apparently, we are allowed to 'sort of' say words though. Caedyn helped us understand this point the other night when she proudly exclaimed "I still know what the 'F' word is" Here's the whole story.
Eventhough I knew deep down that I needed to make a change, I was overwhelmed with the here and now. I desperately wanted to get some things in order first. And who wouldn't if they figured on making an occupational change in the near future. There was one problem. God was calling me to step out into the uncontrolled, unseen, unfreakingnerving unknown. To trust him above my circumstances.
Leave the details to me Scott. It's time to Fly Free.
After all my worry, all my failed attempts at controlling, I finally relented. I allowed that Big God to show up. And amazingly, supernaturally, profoundly I sit here today, completely at peace. In the midst of having no clue where any money is coming from after October 15th (which is less than 3 weeks away).
When I get a little tense thinking about the future these words beckon me to remember who is in control.
“Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters;
and you who have no money, come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost.
Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.
Give ear and come to me;
hear me, that your soul may live.
I will make an everlasting covenant with you,
my faithful love promised to David.
Seek the Lord while he may be found; call on him while he is near.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord.
“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.
As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty
but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.
You will go out in joy
and be led forth in peace;
(Flying Free)
(Flying Free)
the mountains and hills
will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
will clap their hands.
-Isaiah 55
I will share the whole story in the near future. For now, check out my sermon from a number of weeks ago. It was smack dab in the middle of my battlefield.
Big Idea was: Big Faith in the midst of Big Fear allows and even Bigger God to show up.
The Vid of My Sermon
Friday, September 24, 2010
VHF - Departures Ecuador
Today my offering is a bit different but probably one of the best VHF's. It is taken from the OLN show "Departures" which highlights 2 Canadian boys endeavouring to "find themselves" by traveling the globe. Check out their website to understand a wholistic view of the show, and then check out this clip to understand the beauty and comedy of encountering an entirely different culture.
Unfortunately I could not cut the clip to where I wanted it.... so you'll have to put a little effort in. Drag the bar to start the clip at 37:45 and ride it out until 42:50. Enjoy.
http://www.oln.ca/?bclid=34540927001
Unfortunately I could not cut the clip to where I wanted it.... so you'll have to put a little effort in. Drag the bar to start the clip at 37:45 and ride it out until 42:50. Enjoy.
http://www.oln.ca/?bclid=34540927001
Monday, September 20, 2010
Post Supper Showdown
Post supper in the Lanigan household usually consists of the following:
Shock and awe from our children that dishes need to be cleared from the table. This is somehow a completely stuning revelation every night. How as parents, could we not understand that we should just be thankful that we have the incredible privilege to make them supper each and every night. Like come on. This results in an extremely quick revelation by our children that they are about to be sold to gypsies, which is going to be followed by a huge party they are not invited to, the conversation typically turns to whining:
"Dad, like, you ask us EVERY DAY. So not fair.
"I already got out of the van and walked in the house after school and now this?"
"I am not touching Caedyn's plate there are boogers on it."
"My hands are cramping."
"I have to go poo."
To combat the gong show. We came up with a trivia game. With the winner recieving the golden "I am so awesome card." Which apparently is a very popular ticket because it means you don't have to do dishes. We have 5 rounds. Winner is the one with the most points after the five rounds. Each round, the kidlets get to choose a 1 point, 2 point or 3 point question. 1 being easy and 3 being like "super hard." We allow for steals after a wrong answer. If another kid gets the answer right on a steal, they recieve half of the original points. We do not kid around people. The topics flip flop between school subject trivia and bible trivia. Needless to say the humming and hawwing is intense. Well, a few nights ago, after everyone went poo, the hand cramps were massaged out, and caedyn ate the boogers of her plate, we dove into it.
After a hard fought battle we had a three way tie at the end of 5 rounds. Out came the Free For All question. First one to answer it right wins the game. I tossed out an easy one cause someone had to go poo again.
Which book of the Bible in the New Testament starts with the letter 'H'?
Brady pipes up immediately with, "Dad, I am pretty sure I know what it is but I don't know if I want to say it in case I get it wrong." I laugh because he knows as well as I do that if he gets the Q wrong he is disqualified and loses the competition. Like I said people, we do not kid around.
I say, "B-man, if you don't take the risk, you'll potentially lose the competition. Gotta take the shot pal."
"Okay I am going to do it... Hepatitis."
Incredible. Carla and I lost it. We could not stop laughing. Hepatitis?? Brady figured he had gotten the question wrong yet couldn't quite figure out what the right answer was. Megan popped up with, "That's in the Old Testament Brady."
Okay, let's get serious, that does sound like an OT book of the Bible. With Habbakuk, Zephaniah and Leviticus out there, Hepatitis is not that much of a stretch. I know, if it wasn't for the fact that it's a disease. In the midst of Carla and I almost doubling over, we suggest to the kids to sing the NT Books of the Bible (yes, we have a song) and within seconds, out of nowhere, Caedyn pipes in, "Hebrews."
Unreal.
And guess who had to do the dishes? That's right me. Apparently, Hepatitis gets you out of doing dishes. Who knew.
Shock and awe from our children that dishes need to be cleared from the table. This is somehow a completely stuning revelation every night. How as parents, could we not understand that we should just be thankful that we have the incredible privilege to make them supper each and every night. Like come on. This results in an extremely quick revelation by our children that they are about to be sold to gypsies, which is going to be followed by a huge party they are not invited to, the conversation typically turns to whining:
"Dad, like, you ask us EVERY DAY. So not fair.
"I already got out of the van and walked in the house after school and now this?"
"I am not touching Caedyn's plate there are boogers on it."
"My hands are cramping."
"I have to go poo."
To combat the gong show. We came up with a trivia game. With the winner recieving the golden "I am so awesome card." Which apparently is a very popular ticket because it means you don't have to do dishes. We have 5 rounds. Winner is the one with the most points after the five rounds. Each round, the kidlets get to choose a 1 point, 2 point or 3 point question. 1 being easy and 3 being like "super hard." We allow for steals after a wrong answer. If another kid gets the answer right on a steal, they recieve half of the original points. We do not kid around people. The topics flip flop between school subject trivia and bible trivia. Needless to say the humming and hawwing is intense. Well, a few nights ago, after everyone went poo, the hand cramps were massaged out, and caedyn ate the boogers of her plate, we dove into it.
After a hard fought battle we had a three way tie at the end of 5 rounds. Out came the Free For All question. First one to answer it right wins the game. I tossed out an easy one cause someone had to go poo again.
Which book of the Bible in the New Testament starts with the letter 'H'?
Brady pipes up immediately with, "Dad, I am pretty sure I know what it is but I don't know if I want to say it in case I get it wrong." I laugh because he knows as well as I do that if he gets the Q wrong he is disqualified and loses the competition. Like I said people, we do not kid around.
I say, "B-man, if you don't take the risk, you'll potentially lose the competition. Gotta take the shot pal."
"Okay I am going to do it... Hepatitis."
Incredible. Carla and I lost it. We could not stop laughing. Hepatitis?? Brady figured he had gotten the question wrong yet couldn't quite figure out what the right answer was. Megan popped up with, "That's in the Old Testament Brady."
Okay, let's get serious, that does sound like an OT book of the Bible. With Habbakuk, Zephaniah and Leviticus out there, Hepatitis is not that much of a stretch. I know, if it wasn't for the fact that it's a disease. In the midst of Carla and I almost doubling over, we suggest to the kids to sing the NT Books of the Bible (yes, we have a song) and within seconds, out of nowhere, Caedyn pipes in, "Hebrews."
Unreal.
And guess who had to do the dishes? That's right me. Apparently, Hepatitis gets you out of doing dishes. Who knew.
Friday, September 10, 2010
VHF - Wipeout Wipeouts
This is beautiful and horrible. Similiar to everytime I put on a wetsuit. Beautiful that I get the chance to wakeboard. Horrible because my back hair never fails to get caught in something and I start screaming and flailing like a girl. Most of the time it is mid-boarding so unfortunaltely, everyone in the boat thinks I am having the time of my life. That's it. I am going mankini from now on.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The Nines
The Nines returns today. An online conference featuring 100+ speakers from around the world summarizing their thoughts into 9 minutes or less. Sweet. Theme this year is "Game Changers."
Check it out here for free.
Check it out here for free.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Clenched Fists
Victor knocked on my window just as I put my '97 Accord into Park. Starbucks was calling and I was answering.
I hopped out of my car and said "Hi, what can I do for you?"
With a strong Ukranian accent Victor launched into it.
"My name is Veektor and I from Europe. I needa lunch. You help me eat?"
Didn't take long for me to realize that I had this coming.
You see, I have battled something my whole life... Generosity. Not the regular kind of deal like taking a friend out for coffee or having people over for dinner or giving to charities or tipping 11%. No, it's the controling power of money. Or should I say, the incapacitating influence of money. I have never earned a high salary in North American terms. Therefore my life month to month is typically hoping to make ends meet. Tough when your oldest hits Grade 7 and is not impressed with the Transformer Velcro shoes you just got a sweet deal on. There were like super cool colors. And lit up when you walk,. Like come on. Back in the day we had those mesh slip on shoes. Not even cool on any level.
So I live always questioning, always wondering how we are going to make all the payments. And with precision timing every two weeks the "What if''s" start to lurk. What if my car needs new brakes? (which it does so that's more of.. lovely, my car needs new brakes, "use both sides of the toiler paper kids!") What if we can't afford the monthly payments for my son's $6500 braces? What if I don't have enough to pay my mortgage? What if...
I mentioned a few weeks back that Carla and I were launching into a new book called Big God by Britt Merrick. It stemmed from the conviction that God had been tapping on my shoulder for months (years) about faith. Trusting Him to provide (period). Sounds all trite and wonderful and exactly what a pastor should do and say. Yet I read it and it doesn't even sound easy. Today, in this country, and this culture, there is very little we have to rely on others for.
(Okay I absolutely have to interject right now. As I was typing the sentence "Today, in this country..." I looked up for a moment because a lady walking by caught my attention. 50ish years old, trench coat and I kid you not, I am not making this up, she was casually strolling along smoking a joint. So I sit corrected, I rely on people for freakishly crazy stories. Which totally reminded me of another great marijuana story that will have to wait.)
It's true isn't it? Think of your day to day life? What do you rely on others that is a necessity for you to survive? Not much beyond a paycheck I am guessing.
Victors knock was God's hand.
I had come to a point where I was sick of not trusting God the way I should. Loving so many things about Jesus but falling short of loving Jesus. When I love Jesus. When I understand his love for me. Love becomes the fuel for faith. \It fuels my capacity to lean into Jesus. It propels me to peace, to extend hope, to ecnourage joy. When I am tight fisted that becomes impossible. When I clench my hands around my paycheck I am holding on to the tangible not the supernatural.
Victor was stunned when I clenched my fists around his arm and starting dragging him to the nearest restaurant and said "We are going right now wherever you want and we are buying whatever you need."
3 weeks before Victor knock I heard another knock. That one was in my head. I was taking a break from doing some hosting at a Conference. So I took a stroll for a few blocks and hit the nearest Timmy's. Got my large coffee one cream and started heading back. As I exited the joint, I saw a huge drive-thru line up. Thankful I was on foot, I started passing the cars one by one, looking to cut through to the sidewalk. It was then I saw her. She was in a beat up old Chrysler. Off-white. Seems a car wash was not top priority. 3 kids in car seats filled up the back seat. Her head was held up by her hand, window open, elbow on the door. Her head kinda of dropped. Tiltied to one side. I sensed she was clenching on to the tangible. As I was about to pass her car, my head and my heart tweaked. Be generous. I stopped. Our eyes met. I smiled and walked away. I cannot express to you how much I have thought about that moment ever since.
I blew it.
The clincher is that I had been asking the God of heaven, the God who promises to show up to show up and he did. He chose me in that moment to be an extension of him and I clenched my paycheck. I suck so bad.
I thanked God for hearing me and begged him to forgive me.
And Victor knocked.
To be honest, I hesitated a fraction of a second when I heard the knock. It wasn't a clench. It was a thank you. I thanked God for second chances. And third chances and grace beyond what I will ever deserve or ever have the capacity to earn.
I am pretty sure God was smiling cause Victor chose KFC. For real? Kentucky Fried Chicken are you kidding me? If I had to choose between KFC and gum under a bus stop bench I would gnaw it off the bench. I tried to get him somewhere that didn't leave you smelling like foot when you left. To no avail.
I smiled regardless. Victor was pumped. Smelling like a foot and all.
I hopped out of my car and said "Hi, what can I do for you?"
With a strong Ukranian accent Victor launched into it.
"My name is Veektor and I from Europe. I needa lunch. You help me eat?"
Didn't take long for me to realize that I had this coming.
You see, I have battled something my whole life... Generosity. Not the regular kind of deal like taking a friend out for coffee or having people over for dinner or giving to charities or tipping 11%. No, it's the controling power of money. Or should I say, the incapacitating influence of money. I have never earned a high salary in North American terms. Therefore my life month to month is typically hoping to make ends meet. Tough when your oldest hits Grade 7 and is not impressed with the Transformer Velcro shoes you just got a sweet deal on. There were like super cool colors. And lit up when you walk,. Like come on. Back in the day we had those mesh slip on shoes. Not even cool on any level.
So I live always questioning, always wondering how we are going to make all the payments. And with precision timing every two weeks the "What if''s" start to lurk. What if my car needs new brakes? (which it does so that's more of.. lovely, my car needs new brakes, "use both sides of the toiler paper kids!") What if we can't afford the monthly payments for my son's $6500 braces? What if I don't have enough to pay my mortgage? What if...
I mentioned a few weeks back that Carla and I were launching into a new book called Big God by Britt Merrick. It stemmed from the conviction that God had been tapping on my shoulder for months (years) about faith. Trusting Him to provide (period). Sounds all trite and wonderful and exactly what a pastor should do and say. Yet I read it and it doesn't even sound easy. Today, in this country, and this culture, there is very little we have to rely on others for.
(Okay I absolutely have to interject right now. As I was typing the sentence "Today, in this country..." I looked up for a moment because a lady walking by caught my attention. 50ish years old, trench coat and I kid you not, I am not making this up, she was casually strolling along smoking a joint. So I sit corrected, I rely on people for freakishly crazy stories. Which totally reminded me of another great marijuana story that will have to wait.)
It's true isn't it? Think of your day to day life? What do you rely on others that is a necessity for you to survive? Not much beyond a paycheck I am guessing.
Victors knock was God's hand.
I had come to a point where I was sick of not trusting God the way I should. Loving so many things about Jesus but falling short of loving Jesus. When I love Jesus. When I understand his love for me. Love becomes the fuel for faith. \It fuels my capacity to lean into Jesus. It propels me to peace, to extend hope, to ecnourage joy. When I am tight fisted that becomes impossible. When I clench my hands around my paycheck I am holding on to the tangible not the supernatural.
Victor was stunned when I clenched my fists around his arm and starting dragging him to the nearest restaurant and said "We are going right now wherever you want and we are buying whatever you need."
3 weeks before Victor knock I heard another knock. That one was in my head. I was taking a break from doing some hosting at a Conference. So I took a stroll for a few blocks and hit the nearest Timmy's. Got my large coffee one cream and started heading back. As I exited the joint, I saw a huge drive-thru line up. Thankful I was on foot, I started passing the cars one by one, looking to cut through to the sidewalk. It was then I saw her. She was in a beat up old Chrysler. Off-white. Seems a car wash was not top priority. 3 kids in car seats filled up the back seat. Her head was held up by her hand, window open, elbow on the door. Her head kinda of dropped. Tiltied to one side. I sensed she was clenching on to the tangible. As I was about to pass her car, my head and my heart tweaked. Be generous. I stopped. Our eyes met. I smiled and walked away. I cannot express to you how much I have thought about that moment ever since.
I blew it.
The clincher is that I had been asking the God of heaven, the God who promises to show up to show up and he did. He chose me in that moment to be an extension of him and I clenched my paycheck. I suck so bad.
I thanked God for hearing me and begged him to forgive me.
And Victor knocked.
To be honest, I hesitated a fraction of a second when I heard the knock. It wasn't a clench. It was a thank you. I thanked God for second chances. And third chances and grace beyond what I will ever deserve or ever have the capacity to earn.
I am pretty sure God was smiling cause Victor chose KFC. For real? Kentucky Fried Chicken are you kidding me? If I had to choose between KFC and gum under a bus stop bench I would gnaw it off the bench. I tried to get him somewhere that didn't leave you smelling like foot when you left. To no avail.
I smiled regardless. Victor was pumped. Smelling like a foot and all.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Crunchies
A couple weeks ago, late on a Saturday night, my wife and I drive up to the school we lease for our church gatherings, to drop off some supplies. We pull up and hello, about 40 kidlets are sitting down outside under an incredibly clear starry night smoking a bong. Kid you not. Seriously, 98% of them have yet to hit puberty. Never mind the fact that they have never experienced the incredible lip syncing music of Milli Vanilli (ah, girl, you know it's true). Apparently our diggs are a very hot spot for the local "can't afford a car and have no friends who have one either" kiddies to hang out until the wee hours of the morning. Mind you, we do have a history together. Multiple times in the last couple years I have arrived at the school to find lovely pictures of male anatomy graffiti'd on the walls. Enormous pictures. Like, I kid you not, 20 footers. Let me tell you, if feels quite odd painting over one of those puppies. You are sweating and trying to look cool, which is completely impossible, and then you rush through it and you know people are watching and you are fairly convinced that you missed a spot but you don't want to look. Crazy. Anywho, these lovely children decided to kick it up a notch by taking out a few windows with a pellet gun.
This kinda pushed the neighbours over the edge so on top of being grossed out, they are now a little freaked out, so they asked me to do something about it. Which, if you think about it, is quite logical, because I am very intimidating to Jr Highers and small children in general. Well, okay not all small children. Like 5 yr olds who are related to you. No intimidation what-so-ever. Caedyn, my very soft-spoken timid child (who am I kidding) has not graffiti'd (yet) but I am certain a tattoo is coming before 7, loves scrounging through my hair. I have no clue either. Well, the other night, she says "Dad, you've got crunchies in there." No love. No grace. Not fearful of me what-so-ever. Not gentle at all, just called it out. "Crunchies."
I have no clue what a "crunchie ' was but it still does not sound good. And frankly who wants that advertised? Mind you, I am going to say that I will take crunchies any day as opposed to painting over anatomical imagery larger than you, on the side of buildings. Any day.
Anyway, I figured it was time to call the cops. So called the local Police dispatch and rather expectedly, I had to wait for a call back. About 20 minutes later Officer Woohoo (can't remember his name for love nor money) from the RCMP calls back. I give him the deets, address etc.. and figure we are off and running. How silly of me. What was I thinking. Officer Cel Phone called back.
Lost.
I kid you not.
Seriously, how do you get lost with a GPS and a computer in your car? For real?
At this point it dawned on me, that the RCMP on Corner Gas may actually be real.
Anyway, I walked him through the directions once again and finished noting the fact that firemen never get lost. Oh, slow down, I didn't say that, and yes I am aware that firemen are slow too. That was horrible. Tomorrow, I am getting arrested in the midst of my house burning down. (Don't worry, it's all good. My bro-in-law Steven, is a fireman in Edmonton and I am his hero so it's all good - well that, and the fact that he never reads anything I write, so...)
He finally arrives and, let me interject for a second here, I know he is an officer of the law and everything and I should be respectful, but literally, when Officer Gas emerges from his vehicle, he stands up and... flood pants. Floods. Not even joking. I could not believe it. Pants and hairy leg. Come on, you cannot be taken seriously when you are wearing floods. Am I right? Impossible. Mainly because there is ALWAYS tightness where no tightness should be. Therefore making it completely impossible to even look at the person seriously.
He had a gun and I was giggling.
So now I have Officer Addresses are Super-Confusing walking around with a real gun and flood pants and I am looking for the film crew.
As I try to regain composure, he takes a few pictures, let's me know that it looks like an airsoft gun, and begins to leave. We spent more time on the phone than that. I walk him to his vehicle so he won't trip, and chat him up about the fact that vandalism has been escalating lately, the neighbours are getting worried, so would it be possible to schedule in some regular drivebys. (And might have added for future reference, that white socks do not go well with black pants).
He replied with, "Well, we need people to call in and register complaints in order to make that happen."
To which I replied, "I am pretty sure that has been done. Since oh, I don't know, like the time I called in and let the station know that there were 40 KIDS SMOKING A BONG in front of the school."
Officer pants decided to take a look on his computer. "Wow, there are quite a few complaints. Looks like there are 3 pages from all sorts of people. Fires, rude graffiti, and looks like they broke in too eh? Oh, and here's the complaint you registered."
"Yep, there it is."
"Okay, well, keep them coming."
Okay... keep them coming??? Yes, we want more trouble. Tons of it. Bong away kids, bong away.
Like how many more super doodles inspired by the benefits of bong smoking pubescents do I have to see before we get a little action here?
I am taking a shot in the dark here but thinking when the pants get hemmed properly.
Awesome. That worked out just great. Glad I spent my afternoon clearing that whole deal up.
As I watched Officer Flood-a-roo drive off into the sunset, two thoughts came to mind....
1. Betcha there was crunchies in his hair.
2. Think I am just going grab my 5 year old and 3 of her friends and after driving them around for 6 hours in a vehicle on a diet of slurpee's, tim bits and syrup and only listening to Justin Bieber, drop them off one night in the middle of those youngun's and I've got a very strong feeling problem solved. Those girls will lock and load on the bunch of them that they won't even know what hit them. There will be screaming and running and dirt and swinging and all sorts of 5 year old goodness, and that is the first 8 minutes. Best thing is that they look so cute and angelic to start off.
Got a name for them too:
CUTE
Caedyn's Unit of Total Energy
That or
SWEET
Sudden Whirlwird off Extremely Energetic Turmoil
Yep, calling them next time. And to boot, they'll find all your crunchies.
PS.
And yes, I am very thankful for Policeman. I know way too many great police officers that I needed to put some sort of disclaimer in here, so I don't end up getting pulled over every time I leave work. And yes, that has happened to me.
This kinda pushed the neighbours over the edge so on top of being grossed out, they are now a little freaked out, so they asked me to do something about it. Which, if you think about it, is quite logical, because I am very intimidating to Jr Highers and small children in general. Well, okay not all small children. Like 5 yr olds who are related to you. No intimidation what-so-ever. Caedyn, my very soft-spoken timid child (who am I kidding) has not graffiti'd (yet) but I am certain a tattoo is coming before 7, loves scrounging through my hair. I have no clue either. Well, the other night, she says "Dad, you've got crunchies in there." No love. No grace. Not fearful of me what-so-ever. Not gentle at all, just called it out. "Crunchies."
I have no clue what a "crunchie ' was but it still does not sound good. And frankly who wants that advertised? Mind you, I am going to say that I will take crunchies any day as opposed to painting over anatomical imagery larger than you, on the side of buildings. Any day.
Anyway, I figured it was time to call the cops. So called the local Police dispatch and rather expectedly, I had to wait for a call back. About 20 minutes later Officer Woohoo (can't remember his name for love nor money) from the RCMP calls back. I give him the deets, address etc.. and figure we are off and running. How silly of me. What was I thinking. Officer Cel Phone called back.
Lost.
I kid you not.
Seriously, how do you get lost with a GPS and a computer in your car? For real?
At this point it dawned on me, that the RCMP on Corner Gas may actually be real.
Anyway, I walked him through the directions once again and finished noting the fact that firemen never get lost. Oh, slow down, I didn't say that, and yes I am aware that firemen are slow too. That was horrible. Tomorrow, I am getting arrested in the midst of my house burning down. (Don't worry, it's all good. My bro-in-law Steven, is a fireman in Edmonton and I am his hero so it's all good - well that, and the fact that he never reads anything I write, so...)
He finally arrives and, let me interject for a second here, I know he is an officer of the law and everything and I should be respectful, but literally, when Officer Gas emerges from his vehicle, he stands up and... flood pants. Floods. Not even joking. I could not believe it. Pants and hairy leg. Come on, you cannot be taken seriously when you are wearing floods. Am I right? Impossible. Mainly because there is ALWAYS tightness where no tightness should be. Therefore making it completely impossible to even look at the person seriously.
He had a gun and I was giggling.
So now I have Officer Addresses are Super-Confusing walking around with a real gun and flood pants and I am looking for the film crew.
As I try to regain composure, he takes a few pictures, let's me know that it looks like an airsoft gun, and begins to leave. We spent more time on the phone than that. I walk him to his vehicle so he won't trip, and chat him up about the fact that vandalism has been escalating lately, the neighbours are getting worried, so would it be possible to schedule in some regular drivebys. (And might have added for future reference, that white socks do not go well with black pants).
He replied with, "Well, we need people to call in and register complaints in order to make that happen."
To which I replied, "I am pretty sure that has been done. Since oh, I don't know, like the time I called in and let the station know that there were 40 KIDS SMOKING A BONG in front of the school."
Officer pants decided to take a look on his computer. "Wow, there are quite a few complaints. Looks like there are 3 pages from all sorts of people. Fires, rude graffiti, and looks like they broke in too eh? Oh, and here's the complaint you registered."
"Yep, there it is."
"Okay, well, keep them coming."
Okay... keep them coming??? Yes, we want more trouble. Tons of it. Bong away kids, bong away.
Like how many more super doodles inspired by the benefits of bong smoking pubescents do I have to see before we get a little action here?
I am taking a shot in the dark here but thinking when the pants get hemmed properly.
Awesome. That worked out just great. Glad I spent my afternoon clearing that whole deal up.
As I watched Officer Flood-a-roo drive off into the sunset, two thoughts came to mind....
1. Betcha there was crunchies in his hair.
2. Think I am just going grab my 5 year old and 3 of her friends and after driving them around for 6 hours in a vehicle on a diet of slurpee's, tim bits and syrup and only listening to Justin Bieber, drop them off one night in the middle of those youngun's and I've got a very strong feeling problem solved. Those girls will lock and load on the bunch of them that they won't even know what hit them. There will be screaming and running and dirt and swinging and all sorts of 5 year old goodness, and that is the first 8 minutes. Best thing is that they look so cute and angelic to start off.
Got a name for them too:
CUTE
Caedyn's Unit of Total Energy
That or
SWEET
Sudden Whirlwird off Extremely Energetic Turmoil
Yep, calling them next time. And to boot, they'll find all your crunchies.
PS.
And yes, I am very thankful for Policeman. I know way too many great police officers that I needed to put some sort of disclaimer in here, so I don't end up getting pulled over every time I leave work. And yes, that has happened to me.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Stupid
As one foot emerged from the shower this morning, the door bursts open and I encounter a 5 year old with a hot and bothered agenda: "Dad!"
"Yes, Caedyn. I am right here. Should you not be finishing your breakfast?"
"Megan called me 'stupid'."
"Okay, obviously you are not stupid, conversely you are rather cute. So, why don't you lock and load your miniwheats and let me dry off because I am dripping wet and mom typically prefers that I put on a towel before we handle problems."
"But Dad, Megan called me 'stupid'."
"Ah yes. I realize that she..."
"Aannnddd... she's not supposed to say 'stupid'."
"Again, I understand..."
"I love you daddy."
"Thank you Caedyn, I.."
"Bye daddy."
Done. Gone. I was still frantically trying to get a towel out of the cupboard because in the midst of my profound conversation with Caedyn, Carla noticed I was lacking coverage of any type and yelped "Scott, she can see your area." Mind you, by the time that 5 year old Prime Ministeral candidate presented her platform and left the building. On top of that, since I was delayed in my drying off ceremony and slightly stunned at my lack of ability to acquire a towel in time, the dog saw his window off opportunity and started licking the water off my toes. I am still vomiting in my mouth over that one.
After dabbing myself with some toilet paper and Q-tips I found some clothes and started the fretful...
I ran into Megan at the top of the stairs.
"Megs, did you call Caedyn stupid?"
"Yep."
"Okay. Um, are you supposed to call her stupid?"
"Nope."
"Megs. I don't call you stupid."
"No but sometimes you call Koda stupid."
"Okay. But that's because he licks my toes when they are wet and barks everytime a blessed leaf blows by the window."
"That's not what we are talking about sweetheart. You are just not supposed to call your sister that. You know better."
"Daddy, you just don't understand."
Tears start flowing down the cheeks. I kid you not. Flowing.
"Oh Megan. What is wrong?"
"It's just that I did call her stupid, but it was because she was on top of the counter and she almost knocked her cereal off the over and spilled milk everywhere and she always does that and I told her to get down and she wouldn't and then I told her she was going to fall and then she just jumped and fell on the floor and she started crying and holding her leg and she got up limping and I thought she broke her leg and I was so scared because she is my little sister and I just love her so much and so I told her she was stupid."
"Please hug me daddy."
Typically I am not known to have difficulty with words. But this one.... I kid you not, as I sit here typing this, I still have no clue what to say. Nothing. Zip. And the next moment they were hugging and jumping and helping each other get ready for kids camp.
Apparently I am super awesome at solving things even if I have no clue what they are.
"Yes, Caedyn. I am right here. Should you not be finishing your breakfast?"
"Megan called me 'stupid'."
"Okay, obviously you are not stupid, conversely you are rather cute. So, why don't you lock and load your miniwheats and let me dry off because I am dripping wet and mom typically prefers that I put on a towel before we handle problems."
"But Dad, Megan called me 'stupid'."
"Ah yes. I realize that she..."
"Aannnddd... she's not supposed to say 'stupid'."
"Again, I understand..."
"I love you daddy."
"Thank you Caedyn, I.."
"Bye daddy."
Done. Gone. I was still frantically trying to get a towel out of the cupboard because in the midst of my profound conversation with Caedyn, Carla noticed I was lacking coverage of any type and yelped "Scott, she can see your area." Mind you, by the time that 5 year old Prime Ministeral candidate presented her platform and left the building. On top of that, since I was delayed in my drying off ceremony and slightly stunned at my lack of ability to acquire a towel in time, the dog saw his window off opportunity and started licking the water off my toes. I am still vomiting in my mouth over that one.
After dabbing myself with some toilet paper and Q-tips I found some clothes and started the fretful...
I ran into Megan at the top of the stairs.
"Megs, did you call Caedyn stupid?"
"Yep."
"Okay. Um, are you supposed to call her stupid?"
"Nope."
"Megs. I don't call you stupid."
"No but sometimes you call Koda stupid."
"Okay. But that's because he licks my toes when they are wet and barks everytime a blessed leaf blows by the window."
"That's not what we are talking about sweetheart. You are just not supposed to call your sister that. You know better."
"Daddy, you just don't understand."
Tears start flowing down the cheeks. I kid you not. Flowing.
"Oh Megan. What is wrong?"
"It's just that I did call her stupid, but it was because she was on top of the counter and she almost knocked her cereal off the over and spilled milk everywhere and she always does that and I told her to get down and she wouldn't and then I told her she was going to fall and then she just jumped and fell on the floor and she started crying and holding her leg and she got up limping and I thought she broke her leg and I was so scared because she is my little sister and I just love her so much and so I told her she was stupid."
"Please hug me daddy."
Typically I am not known to have difficulty with words. But this one.... I kid you not, as I sit here typing this, I still have no clue what to say. Nothing. Zip. And the next moment they were hugging and jumping and helping each other get ready for kids camp.
Apparently I am super awesome at solving things even if I have no clue what they are.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Mmmm.. sausages
Today, in a period of 4 minutes (yes, I timed it) I just saw a lady walking down the street in a "moo-moo of many colors" dress topped off with a fire engine red hat, followed by a guy pulling a dolly with an old school blue recliner chair strapped on to it with duct tape, followed by shirtless dude pounding a slurpee, smoking a cigarette and looking like he had just escaped daycare. More odd the funny I admit. The thing is I don't toss out laughs that easily. I did when my bro-in-law Paul proudly labeled me with the title "Pasturd" cause "pastor just didn't do me justice." That was funny.
This girl makes me laugh regularly. And not just because she posts pictures of large sausages.
She is a missionary in Costa Rica and drops it like it's hot. I have no clue either...
Enjoy
This girl makes me laugh regularly. And not just because she posts pictures of large sausages.
She is a missionary in Costa Rica and drops it like it's hot. I have no clue either...
Enjoy
Monday, July 26, 2010
I sort of tan-ish
I have always been a bit of a renegade when it comes to reading. Reads like I am trying to sound cool doesn't it? But hey, let's get serious, when you are epitome of cool you don't worry about that stuff you just know. That being said I have never tanned well at all... "Whitelegslani" has been a tag that has followed me for years. My wife has sent me to a tanning salon, nothing. They called it "reverse bronzing" - I came out whiter. Kid you not. I was like the Star of David walking out of that joint. Carla then tried that tanning cream stuff. She even bought the "good" kind. The result was a skin tone that resembled off-orange mixed with prune juice. That is just not a handsome color. Not even close. It gets a lot of stares mind you. Might have seen a couple people throwing up. Combine that with a hairy back and coolness just spews from you. It's a gift.
I would call myself a book renegade cause I am willing to try any book. Yep I do read some of the latest and greatest. But typically I find my most profound moments outside of that arena. Here are a few:
Between the Dreaming and the Coming True - Robert Benson
Blogged about this puppy...
I Became a Chrisitan and all I got was the Lousy T-shirt - Vince Antonucci
The Brand Gap - Marty Neumeier
Walking on Water - Madeleine L'Engle
It's Your Ship - Captian D Michael Abrashoff
How to Break Into Pro Wrestling - Gene Lebell
Sometimes it's a book which captures my imagination for the space I am in. My latest spacial moments have been in the area of Faith. Who and what do I trust?
"One of the moral diseases we communicate to one another in society comes from huddling together in the pale light of an insufficient answer to a question we are afraid to ask." Thanks for that Thomas Merton.
I don't consider myself to be a rock star of any sort, well okay, sometimes I do. But that's usually when some cyclist blinded by the sun reflecting off of my legs, goes careening of the road into a group of small children. There were only 2 broken arms and a minor severing of a leg, but generally not that serious.
It's just that I don't want to be one of those guys who is satisfied with surviving. Or like somehow I have arrived. I don't care if you have been a pastor for 20 years or you were the starting QB in 1987 or your golf handicap is single digits or you were Tupperware Seller of the Decade or you lost 30 pounds or miraculously God somehow chose not to give you a hairy back. Get a grip. Humans cannot remain stagnant. We can convince ourselves that we are but it ain't reality. You and I are always moving. Closer to God or farther away. The Spirit is in constant movement contricted by neither time nor space toward God. Creating, changing, growing, inspiring, providing, giving, seeing... As soon as we stop moving forward.. well...
I bought Carla a book for her birthday. It was one that caught my eye. And one of those renegade moments of decision. It spoke to the moment I/We are in. Faith. It's called "Big God" by Britt Merrick. Just started it and pretty intrigued.
We are gonna take turns reading a chapter and talking about it. Why don't you join us? Maybe it's time for a little digital kick in the pants.
Check it out.
Big God Book - Britt Merrick
Here is the website dedicated to his daughter Daisy's battle with cancer.
I would call myself a book renegade cause I am willing to try any book. Yep I do read some of the latest and greatest. But typically I find my most profound moments outside of that arena. Here are a few:
Between the Dreaming and the Coming True - Robert Benson
Blogged about this puppy...
I Became a Chrisitan and all I got was the Lousy T-shirt - Vince Antonucci
The Brand Gap - Marty Neumeier
Walking on Water - Madeleine L'Engle
It's Your Ship - Captian D Michael Abrashoff
How to Break Into Pro Wrestling - Gene Lebell
Sometimes it's a book which captures my imagination for the space I am in. My latest spacial moments have been in the area of Faith. Who and what do I trust?
"One of the moral diseases we communicate to one another in society comes from huddling together in the pale light of an insufficient answer to a question we are afraid to ask." Thanks for that Thomas Merton.
I don't consider myself to be a rock star of any sort, well okay, sometimes I do. But that's usually when some cyclist blinded by the sun reflecting off of my legs, goes careening of the road into a group of small children. There were only 2 broken arms and a minor severing of a leg, but generally not that serious.
It's just that I don't want to be one of those guys who is satisfied with surviving. Or like somehow I have arrived. I don't care if you have been a pastor for 20 years or you were the starting QB in 1987 or your golf handicap is single digits or you were Tupperware Seller of the Decade or you lost 30 pounds or miraculously God somehow chose not to give you a hairy back. Get a grip. Humans cannot remain stagnant. We can convince ourselves that we are but it ain't reality. You and I are always moving. Closer to God or farther away. The Spirit is in constant movement contricted by neither time nor space toward God. Creating, changing, growing, inspiring, providing, giving, seeing... As soon as we stop moving forward.. well...
I bought Carla a book for her birthday. It was one that caught my eye. And one of those renegade moments of decision. It spoke to the moment I/We are in. Faith. It's called "Big God" by Britt Merrick. Just started it and pretty intrigued.
We are gonna take turns reading a chapter and talking about it. Why don't you join us? Maybe it's time for a little digital kick in the pants.
Check it out.
Big God Book - Britt Merrick
Here is the website dedicated to his daughter Daisy's battle with cancer.
Friday, July 23, 2010
VHF - Harvard Sailing Team
Harvard Sailing Team has been around for awhile. They are a sketch comedy group and typically knock it out o' the proverbial park. Check out one of their offerings - Boys will be Girls - Night Out... beautiful.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
I do not want to hear it.
I am not a big fan of loud eaters. Okay, they drive me nuts. Nothing drives me crazier than loud found inhaling. Seriously, give me poopy diapers, jello vomit, canker sores or grandma with a bad limp crossing the street, no problem. But crunching or chomping or teeth clicking or mouth open gag inducing slurping, I go nutbar. Terets. My leg starts twitching uncontrollably, I start sweating in odd places it's not pretty. Never mind that I start to gag. Hey, i'll take sitting in a dentist chair anyday - just keep your mouth shut when downing your bag of cheezies and stop licking your fingers. Yes, that bugs me too.
Here's the deal. Anything associated with grotesque eating habits is banned in my house. Lip smacking, aggressive spoon movement, continuous tongue licking... banned. My kids are not allowed to chew within 3 feet of my ears. Zingers go flying down my spine when I hear the slightlest slurp. You know those kind you get in your nether regions when you are on a roller coaster or when Tim McGraw looked your way at a concert and like totally stared at you (Shauna). It's like ants have made a nest just below my skin. I just got shivers thinking about it. There is no room for end of the beverage bottom of the cup loud straw suckage. Banned. If I had the opportunity to eat meals in a sound proof bubble I would seriously consider it.
I kid you not, if I sit beside one more dude reading his farmers almanac with BO and slurping his hot coffee, I am going to lose it. Like really, who wants to endure that? If I were to be honest I sometimes pray that they will find a huge hair in their coffee. Like huge and crusty. I do. I know it's horrible but I do. I am sorry but it helps.
Last night Carla and I had a hot date at the movie theatre. The A-Team. It was all we expected to be. Little cheesy, little over the top, little "back in the day". Beautiful. So we sit down and are THE ONLY ONES IN THE THEATRE. It was cheap night to boot, needless to say we were a little stunned. So we totally starting making out. Okay like that would ever happen. PDA (Public Displays of Affection) - above temporary hand holding - and Carla are about as synonymous as hot dogs and meat. Eventually about 20 other people come into the theatre. 2 who sit like 3 chairs away from us. I don't know... 27 other rows that were completely empty, but no, you have to sit close to us because you will never have any clue about social graces will you. And of course, movie starts, dude pulls out the bag of popcorn and starts incrementally eating one piece of popcorn at a time. I kid you not, one piece at a time.... mouth open. I start to weep. Carla cannot contain herself anymore and bursts out laughing.
My leg starts twitching like a rabbit in heat.
Moustache boy continues this display for 20 minutes. I am in stunned silence. He then takes his popcorn bag of horror and starts shaking it like crazy. I have no clue but let me tell you he did not need anymore salt to lick off his individual pieces of popped corn terror. Freddy Krueger proceeds to re-engage his eating insanity until every single kernel has been inhaled. By this time I have lost all control and am lying in the fetal postion on the floor buck naked with napkins hammered into my ears. Carla gives me a boot to let me know that my nightmare has ended and just as I drop into my seat, death eater claps his hands together repeatedly to shake off the oozing butter and salt which have formed a brown paste on his fingertips ending his diatribe with the shirt flick and napkin brush. I was officially incapacitated.
I am in the process of inventing intravenous everything.
Here's the deal. Anything associated with grotesque eating habits is banned in my house. Lip smacking, aggressive spoon movement, continuous tongue licking... banned. My kids are not allowed to chew within 3 feet of my ears. Zingers go flying down my spine when I hear the slightlest slurp. You know those kind you get in your nether regions when you are on a roller coaster or when Tim McGraw looked your way at a concert and like totally stared at you (Shauna). It's like ants have made a nest just below my skin. I just got shivers thinking about it. There is no room for end of the beverage bottom of the cup loud straw suckage. Banned. If I had the opportunity to eat meals in a sound proof bubble I would seriously consider it.
I kid you not, if I sit beside one more dude reading his farmers almanac with BO and slurping his hot coffee, I am going to lose it. Like really, who wants to endure that? If I were to be honest I sometimes pray that they will find a huge hair in their coffee. Like huge and crusty. I do. I know it's horrible but I do. I am sorry but it helps.
Last night Carla and I had a hot date at the movie theatre. The A-Team. It was all we expected to be. Little cheesy, little over the top, little "back in the day". Beautiful. So we sit down and are THE ONLY ONES IN THE THEATRE. It was cheap night to boot, needless to say we were a little stunned. So we totally starting making out. Okay like that would ever happen. PDA (Public Displays of Affection) - above temporary hand holding - and Carla are about as synonymous as hot dogs and meat. Eventually about 20 other people come into the theatre. 2 who sit like 3 chairs away from us. I don't know... 27 other rows that were completely empty, but no, you have to sit close to us because you will never have any clue about social graces will you. And of course, movie starts, dude pulls out the bag of popcorn and starts incrementally eating one piece of popcorn at a time. I kid you not, one piece at a time.... mouth open. I start to weep. Carla cannot contain herself anymore and bursts out laughing.
My leg starts twitching like a rabbit in heat.
Moustache boy continues this display for 20 minutes. I am in stunned silence. He then takes his popcorn bag of horror and starts shaking it like crazy. I have no clue but let me tell you he did not need anymore salt to lick off his individual pieces of popped corn terror. Freddy Krueger proceeds to re-engage his eating insanity until every single kernel has been inhaled. By this time I have lost all control and am lying in the fetal postion on the floor buck naked with napkins hammered into my ears. Carla gives me a boot to let me know that my nightmare has ended and just as I drop into my seat, death eater claps his hands together repeatedly to shake off the oozing butter and salt which have formed a brown paste on his fingertips ending his diatribe with the shirt flick and napkin brush. I was officially incapacitated.
I am in the process of inventing intravenous everything.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
I am not in the laughing mood
There are days when humour escapes me. When I get overwhelmed with stuff. I would say "life" but frankly life is not overwhelming. It's the things that make said life up which can be suffocatting. Or should I say, the stuff I add to my life which renders itself to be just that, stuff.
Don't get me wrong, I still laugh. Like when I saw these two elderly ladies walking across the street 2 days ago and one of them had blue polyester pants hiked to her armpits. Not the nice blue either. Ugly blue. And to boot, it caused the pants to be floods. Armpit floods. Love it.
Or the truck that just drove by me called the "Schwing 36x." Like who would not want to drive that around all day. What do you drive pal? '97 Honda Accord. How about you? Schwing 36x. You don't even need to say anything else. I am sure that guy always gets free coffee at Tim Horton's.
Or when my youngest decided to let us know whe was going to say a bad word while we were driving the other day. Much to our verbal denial of her proposed actions she let er rip. Kind of hoped to hear "stupid" or "bum" or something of that magnitude. Nope. 9.0 on the richter scale. F-bomb. And to boot, she tripled it. Bomb, bomb, bomb-o. Needless to say, chaos ensued. My son was sitting beside her and started losing his mind. Carla chanted "Caedyn... you cannot say that." Caedyn replied by gleefully dropping a few more bombs. Our vehicle was in an uproar so I told everyone to chill out. I calmly proceeded to tell Caedyn that she was not to say words like that. That worked wonders. She replied with... "You mean 'bomb' daddy?" (Let me interject for one moment here: With the complete knowledge that my 5 year old cannot read enough words to make sense of this blog (yet) I will admit that it was a brilliant reply. Crazy good. Which in turn makes me fret the 6 birthday and frankly every birthday after that...) It was then we got pretty serious with the, "Caedyn, if you continue to talk like that, mommy and daddy will have to wash your mouth out with soap." My first born, absolutely astounded boy, Brady did not take kindly to that response and replied with, "Are you kidding me? She needs to have a huge spanking... with a bible!" It was at this point in the episode that Carla and I lost all control. We could not help but start killing ourselves laughing. Cause yes, that's what pastors do, pull out the old KJV, open it up to Leviticus (cause it is super boring) and spank their children with it. Unreal. Brady continues his tirade and starts flailing his arms. I attempt to keep the vehicle on the road, Carla is trying to figure how in the world Caedyn would have come up with that one, and there sat Caedyn.... giggling and smiling and proud as punch that she said a bad word.
How she found out it was some sort of bad word, I have no clue. But was it coincidence that my parents were visiting the week before... Okay I am in so much trouble for actually posting that. Let it be known that I have never ever heard my parents use that word or anything close to that word in my entire lifetime. We weren't even allowed to use "uck" words growing up, never mind words containing "the other word" for donkey. Which made it a little difficult whenever my brother and I played hockey. Asking someone to "launch the disc I am open" may have been the reason I scored only 2 goals in my entire minor hockey career.
So yes, I can still laugh. But I just don't feel like it sometimes.
You see I have this tendency to get overwhelmed by situations. Some that I put myself into and some that I find myself in. They suck the laughter right out of me. I want to be joyful. I want to make people's day. I want to be in the moment. But the moment, the day is taken from me. I think it is that place of being caught between the dreaming and the coming true. The hope of something not yet realized. It's then that I start to panic. I attempt to control. I use my words for effect rather than for breathing life into a person or into the moment. 2 Timothy 2:22-25 compels me to be gentle and kind in my language. To pursue faith, love and peace. And here's the kicker... "out of a pure heart." I don't like that part. You see when I find myself overwhelmed I tend to only find myself. I become ego-centric. I don't want to get out. I rapidly move into survival. The tyranny of the urgent overtakes the purity of the motive. And when I find myself there, my ethics become subjective rather than objective. It becomes all about me. It is in those moments when the air seems so thin. I can't get enough oxygen into my viens. Everything starts looking dim.
And laughter becomes no medicine at all
But I know better. So today, I forced it. I made myself look up. I examined my heart. And when you take an honest look there you will find your motives. And I was soon reminded it can't be about me. A pure heart doesn't allow that.
And so it is... then I look up from my computer screen and out the window and see a dog pulling a guy wearing a yarmulka (said, 'Yamaka" thank you Adam Sandler) in a wheel chair. Crazy. Yet somehow everything seems just fine.
Don't get me wrong, I still laugh. Like when I saw these two elderly ladies walking across the street 2 days ago and one of them had blue polyester pants hiked to her armpits. Not the nice blue either. Ugly blue. And to boot, it caused the pants to be floods. Armpit floods. Love it.
Or the truck that just drove by me called the "Schwing 36x." Like who would not want to drive that around all day. What do you drive pal? '97 Honda Accord. How about you? Schwing 36x. You don't even need to say anything else. I am sure that guy always gets free coffee at Tim Horton's.
Or when my youngest decided to let us know whe was going to say a bad word while we were driving the other day. Much to our verbal denial of her proposed actions she let er rip. Kind of hoped to hear "stupid" or "bum" or something of that magnitude. Nope. 9.0 on the richter scale. F-bomb. And to boot, she tripled it. Bomb, bomb, bomb-o. Needless to say, chaos ensued. My son was sitting beside her and started losing his mind. Carla chanted "Caedyn... you cannot say that." Caedyn replied by gleefully dropping a few more bombs. Our vehicle was in an uproar so I told everyone to chill out. I calmly proceeded to tell Caedyn that she was not to say words like that. That worked wonders. She replied with... "You mean 'bomb' daddy?" (Let me interject for one moment here: With the complete knowledge that my 5 year old cannot read enough words to make sense of this blog (yet) I will admit that it was a brilliant reply. Crazy good. Which in turn makes me fret the 6 birthday and frankly every birthday after that...) It was then we got pretty serious with the, "Caedyn, if you continue to talk like that, mommy and daddy will have to wash your mouth out with soap." My first born, absolutely astounded boy, Brady did not take kindly to that response and replied with, "Are you kidding me? She needs to have a huge spanking... with a bible!" It was at this point in the episode that Carla and I lost all control. We could not help but start killing ourselves laughing. Cause yes, that's what pastors do, pull out the old KJV, open it up to Leviticus (cause it is super boring) and spank their children with it. Unreal. Brady continues his tirade and starts flailing his arms. I attempt to keep the vehicle on the road, Carla is trying to figure how in the world Caedyn would have come up with that one, and there sat Caedyn.... giggling and smiling and proud as punch that she said a bad word.
How she found out it was some sort of bad word, I have no clue. But was it coincidence that my parents were visiting the week before... Okay I am in so much trouble for actually posting that. Let it be known that I have never ever heard my parents use that word or anything close to that word in my entire lifetime. We weren't even allowed to use "uck" words growing up, never mind words containing "the other word" for donkey. Which made it a little difficult whenever my brother and I played hockey. Asking someone to "launch the disc I am open" may have been the reason I scored only 2 goals in my entire minor hockey career.
So yes, I can still laugh. But I just don't feel like it sometimes.
You see I have this tendency to get overwhelmed by situations. Some that I put myself into and some that I find myself in. They suck the laughter right out of me. I want to be joyful. I want to make people's day. I want to be in the moment. But the moment, the day is taken from me. I think it is that place of being caught between the dreaming and the coming true. The hope of something not yet realized. It's then that I start to panic. I attempt to control. I use my words for effect rather than for breathing life into a person or into the moment. 2 Timothy 2:22-25 compels me to be gentle and kind in my language. To pursue faith, love and peace. And here's the kicker... "out of a pure heart." I don't like that part. You see when I find myself overwhelmed I tend to only find myself. I become ego-centric. I don't want to get out. I rapidly move into survival. The tyranny of the urgent overtakes the purity of the motive. And when I find myself there, my ethics become subjective rather than objective. It becomes all about me. It is in those moments when the air seems so thin. I can't get enough oxygen into my viens. Everything starts looking dim.
And laughter becomes no medicine at all
But I know better. So today, I forced it. I made myself look up. I examined my heart. And when you take an honest look there you will find your motives. And I was soon reminded it can't be about me. A pure heart doesn't allow that.
And so it is... then I look up from my computer screen and out the window and see a dog pulling a guy wearing a yarmulka (said, 'Yamaka" thank you Adam Sandler) in a wheel chair. Crazy. Yet somehow everything seems just fine.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Just One of Those Days
My friend Jason reminded me that yesterday was a special day in movie history. July 6, 2010 was the day Marty McFly flew in his Delorean from the year 1985 to discover a completely different world of hover boards and a geeky dad.
So maybe you aren't convinced of this whole blogging, twitter, social media deal. Check out the stats below to see how convinced you might become. That being said, I do believe that Social media cannot and will not replace face to face relationships. It is interesting how many more people are shopping locally. Checking out farmers markets. Planning block parties. It seems that the more technologically advanced we become the more our hearts long for "real" facetime.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Joydar
I gotta be honest when you work in "church world" for any amount of time, you soon discover that "churchies" take themselves way too seriously. And in turn they take you way too seriously. Somehow whatever you just thought, just said, or just did was completely heretical or unbibilical or showed off your pecs too much or was not honoring to someone or something from the year 1976 or you released fireballs from heaven because you used The Message to say it. And of course, the comments are always followed up with supporting documents, but not from The Message.
And if you preach.... woah nelly. That's when the radar gets kicked up into "special mode". I had a "churchie" confront me one time with the fact that I had used the term "hooked up" in my sermon which, when googled by said individual, was found to mean "engaging in pre-marital sex" .... of course. Therefore, it was completely unacceptable and very disturbing because I was promoting this type of action from the pulpit. Conversely, I was thrilled that this individual understood the entire point of my sermon... Heavenly hook ups. Cause I always like to be tricky. Like one time when I spoke on rolling all that makes up our life into the hand of the God, which really was code speak for smoking doobies. What most people don't realize is that pastors have competitions to see how much they can do this. Our latest challenge is to subliminally promote Harry Potter and skinny dipping.
Laughter, comedy, and sarcasm are beautiful things (especially when you are skinny dipping).
Most often, within the church world, we deal with the serious far more than the satire. So maybe when you run into the lighter side it can be debilitating rather than refreshing. In Matthew 14 we find one of those conundrums. Jesus is chilling out after rock climbing for a little bit. He had been teaching and healing and pretty much doing what Jesus does, and needed to refill the tanks. So he's maxing and relaxing and see's the disciples floating in their little boat on their way to the other side o' the lake. And He get's to thinking... Oh yeah, I gotta get to that side too. How am I going to get there?
Well I would submit, the disciples probably figured he was swimming or finding another boat. And to be honest, not sure if Jesus took swimming lessons. Hey, it took my 2 older kids 6 times each to get through Otter or Beaver or Horse or whatever that stupid level 1 is called. And is there anything more frustrating than paying for the same lesson 12 times? Apparently getting water in your face is extremely traumatic if you are swimming. Alas, Jesus figures he mind as well kick it up a notch and totally freak out those dopes in the boat. So he just starts walking on the water. Beautiful. To boot, he was probably smiling and waving as he neared the boat. And he gets the reaction he was looking for... "It's a ghost!" Beautiful. "Boys, relax, it's me." Peter is so jacked he wants to get out there too and Jesus says have at er. Except Peter sinks, Jesus saves, the disciples shout, the boat lands, the story ends.
Was there a deeper point to this story? Yep. Was this another example of the power of Jesus? Yep. Was Jesus intentional with everything he did? Yep. Was a memory created for the guys in the boat? Yep.
Was Jesus doing what he always did? Yep.
And what was that? Bringing joy to people lives. Whether it was bringing hope to a place, peace to a tragedy, calm to a storm, or forgiveness to a life. He was and is and always will be the essence of Joy.
So next time you feel the urge to confront flip flops in church or verbage in a song go climb a mountain. Pull out the "Joydar (Joy Radar people)" and you never know how your perspective might change or what you might find yourself doing instead.
And if by chance you are looking for a swim teacher, give me a call, we know them all.
And if you preach.... woah nelly. That's when the radar gets kicked up into "special mode". I had a "churchie" confront me one time with the fact that I had used the term "hooked up" in my sermon which, when googled by said individual, was found to mean "engaging in pre-marital sex" .... of course. Therefore, it was completely unacceptable and very disturbing because I was promoting this type of action from the pulpit. Conversely, I was thrilled that this individual understood the entire point of my sermon... Heavenly hook ups. Cause I always like to be tricky. Like one time when I spoke on rolling all that makes up our life into the hand of the God, which really was code speak for smoking doobies. What most people don't realize is that pastors have competitions to see how much they can do this. Our latest challenge is to subliminally promote Harry Potter and skinny dipping.
Laughter, comedy, and sarcasm are beautiful things (especially when you are skinny dipping).
Most often, within the church world, we deal with the serious far more than the satire. So maybe when you run into the lighter side it can be debilitating rather than refreshing. In Matthew 14 we find one of those conundrums. Jesus is chilling out after rock climbing for a little bit. He had been teaching and healing and pretty much doing what Jesus does, and needed to refill the tanks. So he's maxing and relaxing and see's the disciples floating in their little boat on their way to the other side o' the lake. And He get's to thinking... Oh yeah, I gotta get to that side too. How am I going to get there?
Well I would submit, the disciples probably figured he was swimming or finding another boat. And to be honest, not sure if Jesus took swimming lessons. Hey, it took my 2 older kids 6 times each to get through Otter or Beaver or Horse or whatever that stupid level 1 is called. And is there anything more frustrating than paying for the same lesson 12 times? Apparently getting water in your face is extremely traumatic if you are swimming. Alas, Jesus figures he mind as well kick it up a notch and totally freak out those dopes in the boat. So he just starts walking on the water. Beautiful. To boot, he was probably smiling and waving as he neared the boat. And he gets the reaction he was looking for... "It's a ghost!" Beautiful. "Boys, relax, it's me." Peter is so jacked he wants to get out there too and Jesus says have at er. Except Peter sinks, Jesus saves, the disciples shout, the boat lands, the story ends.
Was there a deeper point to this story? Yep. Was this another example of the power of Jesus? Yep. Was Jesus intentional with everything he did? Yep. Was a memory created for the guys in the boat? Yep.
Was Jesus doing what he always did? Yep.
And what was that? Bringing joy to people lives. Whether it was bringing hope to a place, peace to a tragedy, calm to a storm, or forgiveness to a life. He was and is and always will be the essence of Joy.
So next time you feel the urge to confront flip flops in church or verbage in a song go climb a mountain. Pull out the "Joydar (Joy Radar people)" and you never know how your perspective might change or what you might find yourself doing instead.
And if by chance you are looking for a swim teacher, give me a call, we know them all.
Friday, June 25, 2010
VHF - VW's Turn
Threw out a little "Swagger Wagon" a few weeks ago. Today letting VW have their turn. Pretty sweet. Enjoy. Have a great Friday!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Morning Glory
So this happened already today...
Got woken up at 6:15 cause bobcat boy at the lot behind us, thought he would get a head start on smoothing sand that was already quite smooth if you ask me (I got up and looked, okay, not completely true, might have started yelling at him too.. something about contracting a bad rash or nipple chaffing not quite sure it was early.)
Upon waking up, had the dogs woohoo right in my face. Apparently that was the warmest spot on the bed at the time.
All 3 kids woke up shortly after and proceeded to start initiating havoc. Megan burst into the room because she desperately needed nail polish because it was team day and she wanted to look "cool". I proceed to my washroom, only to hear our 5 year old. Caedyn, start screaming about the fact that she is going to wet her pants. I half wet my pants because I jumped so high off the pot that I lost control. I rip out of the washroom to inquire about the wetting problem. My other daughter Megan is sitting on the toilet in the other washroom, and apparently told Caedyn to "go somewhere else because she is doing her team nails." I ask Megan if that is true, to which she retorts, "You told me to do my nails in the washroom dad so that is what I am doing. It is your fault if she wets her pants." After 6 sighs and a rather stern look, Megan apprehensively leaves her toilet perch and allows young Caedyn to releave herself.
I walk downstairs to find my son eating breakfast. I experience a little shock and awe that he is actually eating breakfast on his own accord and that no issues seem to be apparent. Stunned. Normally, breakfast is when we discover that he has some sort of project due that morning usually along the lines of inventing biodegradeable pit stick. I walk downstairs slightly gleeful when I discover the gong show left by my daughters in the play room. Not that this is a surprise mind you. It is the adventure of what I am going to discover as part of the gong show. Today it was pencil shavings. I kid you not, there must have been a pencil sharpening convention that I was unaware of. There were shavings everywhere. On the floor, in cups, in the oven of the play kitchen, groovy girls were propped up with shavings, and I swear they formed a crop circle on the floor.
After cleaning up that deal. I plugged in our lovely air cleaning, floor drying, vomit inducing, sewage machines. Yea. Our Sewer backed up inside the house last week. Restoration dudes were coming back this morning to do another clean because apparently our poop is resilient. Little bit of pride there.
So we commence packing lunches only to find my daughter has not emptied her lunch kit from the night before (not a surprise here people) and of course we discover infestation.
Which brings me to our homemade fruit fly trap. I had checked it last night and counted 11 fruit flies in that puppy. Not bad for only a couple hours. This morning I look in it. 4. All 3 of my children are eating breakfast at this point (well, to be fair, 2 were eating, Megan had just arrived after freaking out with tears and stomping and huffing and head flicks and general disgruntledness about the fact that no one was helping her finish her nails for her team day at school. That is until Carla gently reminded her team day was Thursday...) so I casually inquire, as to the whereabouts of the other 7 fruitflies. Caedyn pipes up with, "I had to put my finger in the top to look at it." This would explain the gigantic hole in the saran wrap on the top of our trap.
The kids finish breakfast. Megan burns upstairs to finish getting ready (the nail episode put her back at least 15 minutes). Brady is ready to ride and does not want to wait for Megan. I tell Brady to let her know he is going in 2 minutes and she needs to be ready. Brady asks me to start a timer. Brady gleefully runs upstairs to put Megan on the clock. Megan arrives with 30 seconds to spare. Brady starts riding upon first sight of Megan in the garage. Megan runs inside bawling because Brady left early and hates her and she doesn't know the route to get to school. Brady arrives back home. Stomps in and states "all I did was start a bit early and then cry baby runs in the house. See dad, this is what I have to deal with all the time." I pretend to ignore any of this is going on by closing my eyes and mumbling softly like I am in a very important prayer time. They get the hint and leave. I whip upstairs to have a shower. Hop in the shower only to find my 5 year old wanting to hop in too. She does. Try to wash her hair because she failed to wash anything in her bath from the night before. I am not allowed to apply shampoo. I am instructed that she can do it and that she does not like any shampoo on the front of her hair. Back only. I retort with the fact that bugs will infest her hair and start laying eggs in there if she does not wash the front. She is not amused but slightly concerned that this could possibly happ.en. Therefore she dabs the front of her hair and quickly rinses. I am then told to get out of my own shower. I towel off, go to shave... no water. Seems the restoration dudes are already at my house to clean the carrot poop out of my basement (again) and neglected to warn us they were turning off the water. Lovely. I look at the clock. 8:25am. I am sure this is going to be a wonderful day.
Got woken up at 6:15 cause bobcat boy at the lot behind us, thought he would get a head start on smoothing sand that was already quite smooth if you ask me (I got up and looked, okay, not completely true, might have started yelling at him too.. something about contracting a bad rash or nipple chaffing not quite sure it was early.)
Upon waking up, had the dogs woohoo right in my face. Apparently that was the warmest spot on the bed at the time.
All 3 kids woke up shortly after and proceeded to start initiating havoc. Megan burst into the room because she desperately needed nail polish because it was team day and she wanted to look "cool". I proceed to my washroom, only to hear our 5 year old. Caedyn, start screaming about the fact that she is going to wet her pants. I half wet my pants because I jumped so high off the pot that I lost control. I rip out of the washroom to inquire about the wetting problem. My other daughter Megan is sitting on the toilet in the other washroom, and apparently told Caedyn to "go somewhere else because she is doing her team nails." I ask Megan if that is true, to which she retorts, "You told me to do my nails in the washroom dad so that is what I am doing. It is your fault if she wets her pants." After 6 sighs and a rather stern look, Megan apprehensively leaves her toilet perch and allows young Caedyn to releave herself.
I walk downstairs to find my son eating breakfast. I experience a little shock and awe that he is actually eating breakfast on his own accord and that no issues seem to be apparent. Stunned. Normally, breakfast is when we discover that he has some sort of project due that morning usually along the lines of inventing biodegradeable pit stick. I walk downstairs slightly gleeful when I discover the gong show left by my daughters in the play room. Not that this is a surprise mind you. It is the adventure of what I am going to discover as part of the gong show. Today it was pencil shavings. I kid you not, there must have been a pencil sharpening convention that I was unaware of. There were shavings everywhere. On the floor, in cups, in the oven of the play kitchen, groovy girls were propped up with shavings, and I swear they formed a crop circle on the floor.
After cleaning up that deal. I plugged in our lovely air cleaning, floor drying, vomit inducing, sewage machines. Yea. Our Sewer backed up inside the house last week. Restoration dudes were coming back this morning to do another clean because apparently our poop is resilient. Little bit of pride there.
So we commence packing lunches only to find my daughter has not emptied her lunch kit from the night before (not a surprise here people) and of course we discover infestation.
Which brings me to our homemade fruit fly trap. I had checked it last night and counted 11 fruit flies in that puppy. Not bad for only a couple hours. This morning I look in it. 4. All 3 of my children are eating breakfast at this point (well, to be fair, 2 were eating, Megan had just arrived after freaking out with tears and stomping and huffing and head flicks and general disgruntledness about the fact that no one was helping her finish her nails for her team day at school. That is until Carla gently reminded her team day was Thursday...) so I casually inquire, as to the whereabouts of the other 7 fruitflies. Caedyn pipes up with, "I had to put my finger in the top to look at it." This would explain the gigantic hole in the saran wrap on the top of our trap.
The kids finish breakfast. Megan burns upstairs to finish getting ready (the nail episode put her back at least 15 minutes). Brady is ready to ride and does not want to wait for Megan. I tell Brady to let her know he is going in 2 minutes and she needs to be ready. Brady asks me to start a timer. Brady gleefully runs upstairs to put Megan on the clock. Megan arrives with 30 seconds to spare. Brady starts riding upon first sight of Megan in the garage. Megan runs inside bawling because Brady left early and hates her and she doesn't know the route to get to school. Brady arrives back home. Stomps in and states "all I did was start a bit early and then cry baby runs in the house. See dad, this is what I have to deal with all the time." I pretend to ignore any of this is going on by closing my eyes and mumbling softly like I am in a very important prayer time. They get the hint and leave. I whip upstairs to have a shower. Hop in the shower only to find my 5 year old wanting to hop in too. She does. Try to wash her hair because she failed to wash anything in her bath from the night before. I am not allowed to apply shampoo. I am instructed that she can do it and that she does not like any shampoo on the front of her hair. Back only. I retort with the fact that bugs will infest her hair and start laying eggs in there if she does not wash the front. She is not amused but slightly concerned that this could possibly happ.en. Therefore she dabs the front of her hair and quickly rinses. I am then told to get out of my own shower. I towel off, go to shave... no water. Seems the restoration dudes are already at my house to clean the carrot poop out of my basement (again) and neglected to warn us they were turning off the water. Lovely. I look at the clock. 8:25am. I am sure this is going to be a wonderful day.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Baby Gap
So yes I apologize. 2 weeks is too long to post. I will spend the next few days highlighting those 2 weeks starting with my sewer story. I kid you not. In the meantime, take some time to enjoy with me, my sister Jana's first kidlet born June 17 @ 6:03am. Weighing in at 6 pd 5 oz. His name is Bryan Samuel Hollinshead.
Megan proud as punch to have another Cousin
Brady was fairly pumped to get another boy in the clan
Hot stuff in the middle with the kiddies
The man himself
As usual, stolen camera by youngest child, resulted in about 15 pictures of roofs, bed's, other patients
and of course, 13 close ups.
Ruggedly handsome, I know... stop it.
Friday, June 4, 2010
VHF - I do this all the time
Thought I would give you an idea of what I do in my free time. Happey Friday.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Great Expectations
There seems to be so many people yet so few minutes. Too many cups of coffee, too many missed lunches and never enough glasses of water. Too many books launched but never landed. Too much people pleasing so little understanding. It seems the longer the meeting the shorter the results. So many ideas so many obstacles. So much ambition so little resolve. So much joy, yet so much fear. Too much work too little reward. So many requests so little chance.
Heaven waits
Twilight has a Saga
and Dancing needs stars
Twittered and faced
Skyped and spaced
Eagle shirts
Boxer Shorts
Jugo Juiced
Too busy or too lazy. Time management or more time?
Space
Whispers
Open hands
Quiet heart
Hearing
Straining
Humble
Hope.
New mercies, new day.
Great expectations.
Heaven waits
Twilight has a Saga
and Dancing needs stars
Twittered and faced
Skyped and spaced
Eagle shirts
Boxer Shorts
Jugo Juiced
Too busy or too lazy. Time management or more time?
Space
Whispers
Open hands
Quiet heart
Hearing
Straining
Humble
Hope.
New mercies, new day.
Great expectations.
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