Sometimes when we touch

Anyone who grew up in the 70's has to know where that some lyric comes from. Actually it's the title of a song by Dan Hill. He the troubadour of many ballads where probably many children were conceived.

I returned home from a fabulous weekend away with some friends to be greeted by my loving wife. What a beautiful event, we chatted, had lunch and decided to point the car and see where it would take us. We advised our progeny that we would be home by dinner time (and we are) and climbed board SHADOEFX who quickly took us for a ride.

We headed south to the land of water and the loo for gas and decided that a visit to a local coffee establishment would be in order. Ever the gentleman, I joined my beloved in her search for her cold drink and queued with the other patrons of the barista establishment. I having already had my fill of expensive coffee, decided on even more expensive Italian water(what a rip off).

I completed the purchase(some would say participate in extortion) and waited for my beloveds drink. I listened carefully as I heard the plucking of strings and the strained sounds of a poorly executed sound system. In the midst of this cacophony came a voice from the past, trying to achieve victory over the miserable sound system. I moved closer to the sounds only to be struck by the visage of a gaunt but strangely familiar face. A person whose words have caused me to shed many tears over the years since the 70's. A man I have often wished to hear and see and even meet in person was sitting and strumming not 20 feet away from me. There he was, Dan Hill, the author of many soulful ballads including the one from the title of this post, sitting in Chapters.

We sat and listened, he talked about the relationship with his dad and I cried. I cried for him, I cried for myself and I cried for my beloved. I also smiled many smiles. I recalled many terrific memories from the 70's and 80's when his music was always on my turntable. What an amazing weekend I have just had, I spent numerous hours with work colleagues whom I love at a reunion in Collingwood. I returned home to the arms of my beloved and to her smiles. I met Dan Hill, one of my musical heroes and chatted with him. He signed the book I purchased and I learned once again that it's ok for a man to cry. I am 52 and I shamelessly allowed tears of sadness and joy to roll down my face in a Chapters store in Waterloo.

"the honesty's too much and I have to close my eyes and hide"

Not anymore!

It's only words and words are all I have ......

The line in the title is from an old Bee Gee song in case you were wondering.

I love words. I love that they go together and make sentences. I love that some people have such an amazing ability to string them together in such a fashion that they more than make sense, in fact they inspire. I have a friend and colleague who used to bring the "word for the day" to team meetings. I loved how he would bring a usually obscure word to our attention and we would learn its' meaning and pronunciation. I appreciate the usage of words especially when they encourage. I hate it when words are used to hurt or denigrate.

Sometimes I am struck by a word without ever thinking about its' origin or meaning. I experienced just that today when I heard someone say the word "killjoy" and the thought of killing ones joy flooded over me. To break the word into two leaves me with kill and joy. The common definitions are those who refer to "someone who spoils the fun or pleasure of others".

But is it possible? Joy is not happiness. Happiness is based on the outward experiences that are foisted upon us. Joy is a state not based on experiences, but rather a state of existence without the qualifiers of others. So, is there really a "killjoy" or is the word inappropriately named? If my joy cannot be stolen, can I give it away? Am I therefore the only killjoy that exists? It is then a choice to remove life from my joy all by myself. I cannot kill the joy of others, or can I? I used to say to my kids that being grumpy was a choice and they (or I depending on my day) could choose to be grumpy or happy.

I see that nothing much has changed, has it?

Pain is everywhere

Pain is everywhere and some wag said that "pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional". Some days I wonder what the difference is. Some days I know and some I am not so sure anymore. I recently spent some time with a friend who is in deep emotional pain due to a horrific loss. It's at these times that I am often at a disadvantage to provide appropriate help. But, I know this, I will continue to treat these, my friends with love and special care and significant prayer support as they walk these difficult days following this loss. That's a common type of pain.

I talked to my baby girl today (talk being an interesting word). I actually chatted using skype, because the computer person who charged me 275.00 to fix her laptop, didn't. So, she is in Europe with the laptop and I am here and we were chatting. She told me of the hard time she was given by her classmates because of her work on a Canada day event at school. She left in tears because of their rejection. That's another type of pain. Hers and mine from two different perspectives.

I have had the pleasure of ingesting a wonderful drug for most of my life whose purpose is to keep me breathing. We discovered some years ago that this wonder drug has caused some unwanted and adverse side effects that are irreversible. So, I am on the road to new knees, hips and most of my back being operated on. That's a different type of pain.

What we do with the pain is personal, individual and somewhat interesting based on so many factors. Some receive it and have been taught to "offer it up" as in the Catholic tradition. Some have been raised to internalize it, as in "don't let your grandmother see you crying, you'll just upset her", some don't quite know what to do with it and want everyone to share in it as in the "pity party". Some use to it "lord it over people" and wear it like a badge so that their experience is the only experience that is important and everyone should pay attention and submit themselves to them individual because their pain is greater than anyone else and their loss is therefore more important.

Most of us, I believe, run from it whenever it arrives, often on the other end of the telephone line in the message from a family member, the call from a friend or the Dr. calling with the results of the latest test(s). The pain is often expressed by the withdrawal of an individual who is awaiting everyone else to drop everything to come and ask "is everything all right".

One person, walked towards the pain with intent. He even chose it. He chose to lay down His life, no one did that for Him. And He suffered. He was rejected. I think of all the fears that I endure, being rejected has to be one of the greatest. But here was the babe of Bethlehem, the second person of the trinity, the son of God and God Himself who was rejected because of the message of hope that he brought.

How does this help me in my suffering? Sometimes I honestly just don't know how. I can mentally put the jig saw pieces together that shows the picture of His choice for my love, but I can't make that take my pain away. I can believe, trust and "hope" for the better future, but I can't understand. I struggle daily to understand why the events that I have been involved in for the past 25 months make any sense and I am quickly drawn to the very first bible verses that I memorized,

"trust in the Lord with all you heart and lean not unto your own understanding, in all thy ways acknowledge Him and He will direct thy paths"

Wow: here's what stands out for me:

Trust, Lord, Own understanding, Acknowledge Him, He, Direct Your, Path

I must trust that the experience that I am involved in is for my good and if my life is to draw closer to Jesus and to become more and more like Him, then I must choose to endure the suffering without complaint. That's one small step for God and one giant leap for this member of mankind (with no apologies to Neil Armstrong).

5 smooth stones

That's all it took, actually it only took one.

One small stone took down the behemoth who placed an entire army in fear. He, who spoke with disgrace about the one true God, who believing that his power was in his size stood before the boy with the stones and probably chuckled. There he was all 9 feet, 9 inches, towering over this young teen, if he had reached his teens. He was covered in armour and was to many, invincible.

Then the teen, who trusted that God would deliver him, picked a stone, placed it in his well worn and practiced sling and began to spin it. In time, the stone was released and the name of the fallen has been forever on the lips of many as the one who fell before David.

Goliath was not killed by a stone, he was stunned by the stone, and then had his head removed by his own sword. Gruesome, of course. He had defied God, His army, His people and all had shrunk back because all they saw was his size. David saw more than size, he saw a fool. One who depended upon himself rather than upon the one true God, and David the ancestor of Jesus took his rightful place in the history of mankind and did what he was called to do, obey!

What about you? What giants stand between you and obedience? I know that I too have many and I need to slay them individually. There are the giants of ancient pain, of fear, of rejection, of sadness, of recent pain and there are so many more. Some of them don't even have names yet, but they will. With God's help, with obedience and with some small smooth stones they too will be slain.

Mothers day 2010

It's been quite some time since I lost my mother. I think 17 or 18 years have passed. It's funny, I still miss her deeply. There are substitutes and they are pretty amazing women, my mother in law for one and Ruth U. the other. These are two of the women that I look up to for the walk of faith that they have lead over many years.

But, mothers day still hurts because of the things I wish I could talk to my Mom about. I want to tell her about the latest exploits of her grandchildren because she would be so proud. She might not understand their choices, but she would bask in the knowledge that her grandchildren were serving others and that meant a lot to her. I remember her giving a glass of cold water on warm days in Dublin and the "Christmas boxes" she gave on boxing day to the service people who delivered milk and bread and others too.

She would be so proud to see my daughter going to a third world country to help those who have just more than nothing and would be blessed to see my son's latest triumph in the musical challenges he has taken on. But, she is not here and it is left for us to encourage our kids and bless them for their selfless behaviours.

So Happy Mother's day Mom. I miss you and do on a daily basis. We are all fine down here and Jo-Anne and the kids miss you too. There are so many things that would make you smile and there are some that would make you sad, I know that because I not only have your eyes but I also have your heart too.

So when I look in the rear view mirror of the car and see only my eyes, I see yours and I think what would it be like if you saw us today.

It could be worse

Ah perspective, what a wonderful word and approach.

As I was travelling today, I heard someone speaking(John Ortberg) and he was speaking about "it could be worse". It really hit me, perspective usually does. I thought about my anger, embarrassment and sadness about the rejection of my daughter and realized that there could be so much more worse than this. And there is so much more that is worse in this world, thankfully it does not affect me personally.

So, with perspective comes forgiveness and release.

I released my family members to Him who knows better. There is so much freedom in that. My daughter is living her life with abandon at school. Meeting new people and travelling to places I may never see. That she will not likely meet members of my family, no longer offends and hurts me. You see, they have lost the chance to meet an amazing young woman who in her short life has lived more than they have, who has given to others less fortunate much more than they have ever considered.

It could be worse and I am glad it is not.

Forgiveness...................mark that one off the list of things to do.

Rejected

In the sports arena, the word rejected is used as a positive one. A basketball player rejects an opposing players attempt to score by blocking a shot. Similarly, in other sports such as hockey and football, the ability to reject someone is lauded by the supporting members of a team as a positive move. There are even times when a spectacular play by one team member is appreciated by all, foes and fans alike.

But what happens when we are rejected by those whom we think love us? Is that acceptable behaviour? Is someone cheering the outstanding play of one person in their rejection of another?Why is there so much pain in the receipt of rejection?

Obviously, I speak from experience and sadly it is very recent. It has been the practice of my birth family and many others that when a visitor from "home" comes we welcome them and do whatever required to make them feel comfortable and "at home" here while away from home.

My daughter is in England and planned to visit Ireland for a weekend, while on a weekend break from school. I wrote to members of my birth family and asked if they could "put her up" for the weekend and take the time to show her the city I was born in, only as a native could show her. I also asked that they take her to the portion of the city where I was born and let her see the house.

Unfortunately, they rejected my request and my daughter in the process. I am hurt, embarrassed and so saddened by this. I cannot understand or fathom the reason for such a denial. I am reminded though of someone else who "went to his own and his own received him not". This same person was despised and rejected and was acquainted with grief. He knows what I feel like and I am the reason for His grief.

I want to lash out in my anger, I want to deny those who I am related to by blood and I am so saddened by their loss. A huge piece of my identity was ripped from my being by their behaviour. And yet, they have the greater loss. They will never have the opportunity to meet a lovelier young woman whose smile lights up a room, one who gives so much to others so that their life can be somewhat better. Their actions would cause their father, my grandfather immense sadness because they have chosen to miss out on meeting someone whose joy is greater than my deepest sadness or their deepest and most puerile discrimination. So I will rest in this, someone else knows my grief, He lived and died for me, and them. He forgave and I must too.............sometime.