100 today

As of today, Canada has lost one hundred troops to the war in Afghanistan. To be honest, I don't know where I stand on this war. Though it has been going on for six years the only time we hear about it is when the number of casualties rises. Out of sight, out of mind. Quite a while ago I spoke with a friend who knows a Canadian soldier in Afghanistan. My friend quoted the soldier, saying something along the lines of, "Being a soldier is our job. It's what we decided to do with our lives, so we shouldn't be harassed by our fellow Canadians for being in Afghanistan." I had never thought of it in that way before, that our soldiers in Afghanistan are doing a job which they have trained for. Sure we can argue about the politics and the ideology behind our presence in Afghanistan, but we must remember that for better or worse, our troops are there because this is where their employer sent them.

100 is a number. Here are their names.

oh, Canada.

While I'm not generally one to get into politics I gotta say, Canada must have the most unique leaders in the world. Just a few weeks ago we had an election in which the Conservative Party, led by Stephen Harper, won a minority government. A week ago the losing parties, Liberal, NDP and Bloc Quebecois decided that Harper was doing such a horrible job when it came to the economy that he should be removed. So they grouped together and decided to take him out, politically speaking. Okay, so there's a heck of a lot more to it than that but it's a start.

I'll be honest. I was tempted to vote for the NDP this year, but got sick of hearing Jack talk about the kitchen table. Even if I could understand Mr. Dion, I wouldn't have voted for him. The Green Shift didn't sit too well with me. And since I didn't have a Marijuana Party in my riding and the only other option was the Communist and Green Parties, my vote went to the Conservatives. ...not that I would have voted for the Marijuana Party. I've noticed their permanent local headquarters are on East Hastings--likely a strategic move to take advantage of the countless homeless folk just up the street.

Am I happy with the Conservative Party? I suppose I am one of the few who reads CBC News online and does not have a complaint against Harper. This morning he managed to suspend Parliament in order to save his party from falling to the coalition party of Liberal, NDP and Bloc. Smart thinking? I think for now, yes. I still can't understand Dion, and Jack still rants about nothing but the kitchen table. The last thing Canada needs (besides this endless talk of economic doom and gloom) is a coalition led by Dion, a temporary leader, propped up by power-hungry Layton and Duceppe which, for all we know, will only bring further trouble to our economy and country.

Cartoon by Graeme MacKay

the world is just awesome.

We picked up the BBC's Planet Earth series yesterday and, one and a half episodes in, I'm hooked. So far we've watched scenes from the Arctic, Antarctic, deserts, rainforests, oceans and mountains. I am absolutely amazed at what happens in the wonderful world of wildlife around the globe. Makes me wanna ....

...and on...

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my place in the sphere of postmodern North American Christianity. I suppose this thinking comes from a foundational re-grounding of my faith by way of “settling.” It is difficult, at times, to accept the regularly scheduled week, regularly attending church and Bible Study and the acquisition of things. I fought against most of these elements of settled life for quite a while, and it is taking some time to get used to it all. The truth is, we’re here and we’re trying to make the most of it. I’m learning to live a regular life in our postmodern North American society, and it feels … okay. Lately it has even been feeling … good. And I think it’s because I have settled.

No longer am I simply doing what’s next, or what “feels right.” No longer a nomad, I have reason and time for introspection. My faith is being re-grounded, reshaped and solidified through an incapability to escape. I am no longer doing things to please God. Instead I am getting a better grasp of this God for whom I do things. We are receiving solid Biblical teaching, not from a pastor whose attempts to break down the traditional church mold trump the truth of the Gospel, but from a pastor who really speaks foundational truth. The Godly wisdom he imparts parches my thirst. I am challenged in my faith by others and as hard as it has been to take, I need it. In some ways it feels as though there has been some heavy duty chiseling happening. My cynicism towards the church has dwindled. I have read more from the emerging church movement and have begun to question it’s attitude and theology. They, too, have missed the mark, I think. Cynicism gives rise to pride. I am guilty of that, and am coming to grips with it.

My blogging has been slagging lately, partially because of busyness and partially because I find myself relaxing instead. At some point I hope to return to semi-regularly blogging, maybe when this semester is over.

300,000

Today has been a momentous day! Swift has hit another milestone in her life: 300,000 kilometres. Good 'ol Swift. I still remember the day she hit the 200,000 mark back in October, 2005. It was like yesterday in my mind. *Sigh* They grow up so fast...

i like mondays.

Mondays are for me, in some ways, just an extension of the weekend. No work. Just school -- at two in the afternoon. It makes for delightful mornings. Mornings such as this that began with a little Halo and coffee followed by the completion of this week's online English assignment in which I had to define such terms as irony, cliché and simile. I needed that reminder like a fish needs a bicycle.

perspectives

The other night we hung out with a couple friends for a late-night coffee and apple pie. We brought the coffee, ready-made in a carafe, and they supplied the coffee. It was swell. During the course of our conversation, I commented on the fact that I had to get up early in the morning in order to catch my bus to work. [Yeah, that's right, a bus. I have joined the throngs of transit commuters who daily cram themselves, like teenagers playing Sardines in daylight, into the tight quarters of a city bus and even tighter quarters of the Skytrain]. With Swift enjoying a shorter drive to Susan's work in the opposite direction, commuting has become my only option. It's really not so bad, except for the early morning rush to catch a city bus which, incidentally, will not wait for you, even if you're just meters away from catching up to it. It was this early morning start that I made a comment about. "It's even worse now that it's getting darker and darker in the morning," I said. To which came the response, "Actually, I kind of like getting up before the sun. It makes me feel like I'm starting the day right." I had to make it clear to him that, for me, getting up before the sun definitely means that I am starting off the day completely wrong. Perspectives.

Over a year ago, I wrote this article about my time spent in Northern Ontario for the online publication, Wrecked for the Ordinary. There were some initial comments to this article, one of which coming from one of the girls I regularly interacted with on the reserve. But over time, as new articles came in, mine was archived and put away, digitally. About a week ago it was found by another person, a parent, from the reserve who did not take kindly to what I had written about my experiences. They were offended. Very offended.

I received an email from Jeff Goins, the editor of Wrecked, who had made some initial responses to the criticisms offered by the parent, and he wanted to make sure I knew what was going on. I was shocked. My initial reaction was a mixture of fear (that I had written something offensive to which I should recant), anger (that I had been misunderstood) and concern (that this parent might share this article with another on the reserve and offer their interpretation of what was written).

Perspectives are interesting. While I can understand this parent's reaction, as one who's life and home have been written about, I am perplexed by their words. I re-read the article to figure out if I had been offensive, if I had insinuated that the children in Aroland are "pathetic" (perhaps the most distressing statement, to me), but have decided to stand by what I've written. I wrote about my experiences and feelings in Aroland and really, the whole point of the article was to bring awareness to a cultural group that in my opinion has been misunderstood, even by myself. By no means is my understanding of First Nations people a complete understanding but my experiences are valid, as is my perspective from these experiences, from which I wrote. While I still value the parent's perspective, my hope is that they would come to a clearer understanding of my intentions for writing.

i have a desk.

I have a desk. Or should I say, We have a desk. It has been quite some time since I have been in a place I can call my home, and that day has come complete with an office ... and a wife. Well, she didn't come with the place, nor did the place come with her. I moved into this basement suite on July 1 and was soon joined by Susan, officially on July 26th, 2008, the date of our wedding. No longer will I be aimlessly traveling the countryside. Short-term plan: school for me while Susan continues her job with a preschool in White Rock. Long-term plan: unknown. By the end of my schooling in 4-5 years I will have a teaching degree and, what with having our summers off and opportunity to travel within our profession, who knows where we'll be? We're committed to eachother, and we're committed to discovering the path God has for us.

Marriage is pretty sweet. We've been married for just over a week now and I'm still trying not to twiddle with the ring on my finger and I'm still getting used to not sleeping alone (while vainly attempting to remember that there is someone beside me when I flail my arms while in restless sleep)). I think one of the biggest learning curves in marriage is the idea of not being an individual, but a couple. I've learned much of the selfish nature of mine simply through our relationship, through my futile attempts to care more for another than for myself. The learning curve has been frustrating at times, and challenging all the time. Challenges aren't a bad thing, though. In our vows, Susan and I committed that we would "allow God to use [the other] to build His qualities in [us]. Part of that is understanding those things that drive the other person crazy and adjusting [my] set habits built during years of single life to satisfy the other. "It's not always rainbows and butterflies, it's compromise that moves us along". Susan and I are still learning what it means to be in relationship, and I'm convinced that this could be a lifelong lesson. But it's a lesson we're committed to and as we keep to our vows, we can only trust that it's all a part of our growing in character and faith.

We have a desk. In an office. In a suite. In Surrey. A new chapter begins...

all apologies.

Today was a momentous day in the Canadian House of Commons as our Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, stood before a gathering of other politicians and, more importantly, a gathering of First Nations members, and apologized. An excerpt:

Mr. Speaker, I stand before you today to offer an apology to former students of Indian residential schools. The treatment of children in Indian residential schools is a sad chapter in our history.

In the 1870's, the federal government, partly in order to meet its obligation to educate aboriginal children, began to play a role in the development and administration of these schools.

Two primary objectives of the residential schools system were to remove and isolate children from the influence of their homes, families, traditions and cultures, and to assimilate them into the dominant culture.

These objectives were based on the assumption aboriginal cultures and spiritual beliefs were inferior and unequal.

Indeed, some sought, as it was infamously said, "to kill the Indian in the child."

Today, we recognize that this policy of assimilation was wrong, has caused great harm, and has no place in our country.

The aboriginal community in Canada has been seeking an apology for a long time, indicating that it will help to put the pain behind them. My hope and prayer is that this apology will be more than a political posture, but will truly bring closure for both sides so that reconciliation can continue.

pillaged!

I knew something was amiss when I noticed my change-holder, expertly crafted from the finest popsicle sticks by one of the girls in Aroland, resting uneasily upside-down on the corner of a stack of picture frames I had sitting on my passenger seat.

Swift has been through a lot in the three years I've owned her. She's had her extremeties ripped off not once. Or twice. Three times. She was once kneed in the back by a teenager while he struggled to climb over her. She's been bumped and bruised several times in Northern Ontario, including a vicious attack by a six-year-old hockey-stick-wielding maniac. She's made it over the Rockies twice while at the hands of two adventure-seekers who refuse to stop her at the edge of a field, simply for the photographic opportunity.

But now, in her retirement years, I have decided she needs to spend the rest of her days in peace, commuting only minutes to work everyday with her evenings spent at the end of a calm, quiet, cul-de-sac. Or so I thought.

I stared at the overturned change-holder in wonder, thinking to myself in typical Steve Urkel fashion, Did I do that? But upon further reflection I realized that, no, I could not have unwittingly done something so obvious. Besides, if I did dump out the contents of my change-holder, would they not be glittering back at me from all over the seat and floor? One would think so, but they were, in fact, gone.

The next thing I noticed was the radio. Um, let me rephrase that...

The next thing I noticed was the lack of radio. It was gone. My sole reprieve from the insanity of BC driving ... gone -- expertly and unceremoniously removed from it's once permanent home in the console. And with it, my latest relaxant: The Verve: Urban Hymns. Gone.

Swift had been pillaged for all she was worth: six dollars in change and a CD Stereo system. Oh, Swift.

counter-culture

I recently stumbled across a website for an online campaign, Make Affluence History. I'm not sure how long this campaign has been running and I have a sense that it doesn't have as strong a following or is as global as another, much-loved and popular campaign, Make Poverty History. Yeah, it's great to have a global campaign against poverty, but the convenient aspect of such campaign is that we can still support the cause from our homes and the comforts we refuse to leave behind. We can wear a wristband in the name of a good cause and pretend that we've done enough to solve the problem we think we're addressing. Oh, wristbands...

This campaign against affluence reminds me of #6 on the recently updated seven deadly sins. Gone are the sins of lust, greed, sloth, gluttony, envy, pride and wrath. Today's sins are meant to reflect modern society, though I tend to think that adding "polluting the environment" was more of a response to popularity trends than anything else; like what any politician would add to his (her?) platform in order to obtain votes. Though I doubt, with items such as "birth control" on the list, people are flocking to the Catholic Church for it's updated list of sins.

What I like about the Make Affluence History campaign is that the idea behind it (social awareness and real action) is so counter-cultural. I have for years attempted to write something here about counter-culturalism, but have yet to string my words together on this topic in any coherent manner. Though I like where I was headed in the following unpublished post, also titled "Counter-Culture", written last September:

I'm ready to buy into the system. The system I have fought against for so long has finally latched it's little hooks into my wandering mind, and taken hold. I want it. It is whatever it is you see as you sit in your living room. The TV, the couch, the bookshelf. It is whatever catches your eye as you roam around the office. The new computer, the steady income, the established position. The title. It.

This as I read a book entitled: The Jesus of Suburbia: Have We Tamed the Son of God to fit our lifestyle?

A couple of nights ago, I sat on the edge of a lake in Algonquin Park. It is one of the rare places in Ontario where you can sit still and literally listen to nothing, except for the odd tent zipper opening or closing and a distant loon call. ...or a fireside debate. At one point during the night, either through a need to discuss certain matters, or through a boldness brought on by a safe amount of alcohol, I asked the question to my fellow church-going camp-mates, 'What do you think of church?'

'It's over-rated,' came an immediate reply. Impressed by such a quick response, I asked why that was his first reaction. 'Because it's what you said last week,' he replied. Touché.

So what does any of this have to do with "the system", or "The Jesus of Suburbia", or Algonquin Park, for that matter? It all comes back to something that has long sat in the recesses of my mind, occasionally coming forth to remind me that there is something more to the faith I adhere to. It is one thing that brings hope and despair to the life of one who is required to live out their faith in the North American context. It is the understanding that, in his lifetime, Christ was counter- cultural. It's what made him so compelling to the masses, and so problematic to the church authorities of his day.

I'm not sure if I'm still ready to buy into "the system"...

[as I defined in another unpublished post from last February:

the system

We're surrounded by it everyday, so it's hard to notice. It's like the air we breathe. The ground we walk on. The route we travel to work. It's called 'the system'. And like all these things, it changes. Our air is less breathable. The ground transforms from dust to concrete. Our route is widened and more stop lights are added. The system confines, all in the names of 'freedom' and 'progress'. And we keep with the system because it's far better than any other system anywhere else in the world. Or so we think.

The system surrounds, infects, pervades all aspects of North American life as we know it today: cultural, financial, economical, religious, educational, our global perspective. And the system is run by one thing: money.

It doesn't change. And if it does, it does so incrementally, that the change is only recognizable when it's taken away for a period of time. Only when it's replaced, or when the routine is returned to do we see the change. And the potential harm it is.

It's the system.]

...but I'm still captivated by this idea of being counter-cultural. Last night I enjoyed a Starbucks Grande Caramel Macchiato with the leader of our small group, an older man recently retired from teaching. We got to talking about being counter-cultural, he and I. I told him a bit about our struggle in registering for wedding gifts, that we have a desire to register only for the things we need, but find it hard to justify the expenses of even these things. And since we do plan on living here for at least a couple of years, we recognize that the things we are registering for are needed. We love the idea of being Christ-like in a counter-cultural sense, but are caught between that and the reality of where we live. Ha. It begs the question, doesn't it?

Footnote: I'm actually quite disturbed by the fact that my intended mockery of the WWJD bracelet early in this post has bitten me in the ass. Quite disturbed.

the epitome of laze.

A couple of weeks ago, while catching up on some taped Lost episodes, we were interrupted by the requisite commercial break, including one about this refrigerator. Fridges have come a long way since the birth of freon. Not only do they come with ice-dispensers, but with TVs, internet, self-ordering functions, and yes, even door-ajar alarms. But this fridge has even beaten that idea with its self-closing function. That's right. The doors close on their own. It is, in my estimation, the epitome of laze. I'm the first to admit that I enjoy lazing around, so please note the hypocrisy in some of what I am about to say, though in my mind I make a distinction between sitting around doing nothing and allowing my fridge to close itself. It begs a fundamental question concerning needs vs. wants.

The idea of needs vs. wants mainly comes from recent experiences as Susan and I have been registering for wedding gifts. There are certain things we need. As we're pretty much starting out fresh, we need a kitchen table and we need dishes to eat off our table. We need a bed and we need blankets to keep us warm in that bed. We need living room furniture and we need snack bowls to eat from while we sit in that furniture. This may even go beyond what others may consider needs, but we genuinely think we need these things. The difficulty we've been having has been those other things that, well, we'd like to have but don't necessarily need. I'd like to think we would use a blender, but I'm also aware of the fact that the idea of having a blender is much nicer than the reality of using one. Do we need a 4-popper toaster? We can probably get by with a 2-popper, but we've registered with a company that only seems to carry 4-poppers. Do we need the expensive duvet and duvet cover? No, we could probably get by with an Ikea version of the same, but Ikea doesn't do gift registries. Do we need the $200 pair of kitchen chairs? No (see our Ikea quandry). How about the $200 coffee maker? ...wait, is that even a valid question? Of course we do! (note previous remark about hypocrisy).

Contentment in material possessions is difficult in our culture, isn't it? How do we balance out the things we need with the things we want? Or should there even be a balance? What does it mean when we read David's words in the oft-quoted verse, The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want? (Psalm 23). Does David have no want because God has given everything he ever wanted? Or is there no want because God is everything he needs? Easy for David to say, he probably didn't even like coffee. But if the latter were true, how does that fit into our North American culture where God so easily takes a sideline to our credit card? Where our wants and needs can be bought just around the corner, whether we can afford it or not?

When I was in Northern Uganada a couple of summers ago, we were encouraged to discover how God was challenging us in our lives. I left pondering the question, why do I need God? I'm not convinced the answer to that question will easily come while I remain saturated in our culture. Where every drive to Vancouver reminds me of the insurmountable wealth this city boasts. Where the average house costs a little less than $500,000, the highest average in Canada. And I'm convinced that the church here will never be able to answer that question, because it's too busy fighting. Or maybe that is the challenge: to discover a need for God in an individualistic, materialistic, increasingly lazy culture. I'd write more, but I left the fridge door open.

some things are worth committing to...

Spring has sprung in the West. I've counted 4 robins so far, seen daffodils rise from their hibernation, and felt the warmth of the sun on those oh-so-rare sunny days in BC. Change is in the air, I can feel it. This isn't going to be one of those foolish posts where I state I will do better in my blogging and then fail to do so. While I have accomplished most of the things on my to-do list, I've become more and more aware of the effect that routine has on one's time. The weeks pass quickly from one to the next. Here we are, mid-March already. Since writing about being complacent, I've discovered that maybe my complacency is more a result of being in routine of busyness than of being lazy. I always found something else to do instead of the things I had on my to-do list. And, I'll admit, I had a lot on my mind dealing with a topic of great fear and struggle: commitment.

There are some things in life that I have committed to out of obligation or temporary desire or need. I've committed to a job temporarily for the security that money brings. I was committed to a certain gas station for the two Air Miles I collected on each fill-up (until I discovered that they profit over $44 billion annually). I'm committed to Apple computers, despite the fact that my previous laptop died due to a defective part and this laptop is on its way out due to the same issue. Incidentally, I'm committed to making foolish, spur-of-the-moment purchases (ie. defective iBooks and snowboards...James?)

And then there is the commitment to end all commitments: marriage. It took a little while for me to get around to this one and it was, in fact, much harder than I expected. Not because I don't love Susan, not because I wasn't convinced that her and I could be together for the rest of our lives (heck, I tried convincing her of that for three years before she caught on), and not because, deep down I knew that part of my reasoning for returning to BC was for her. These things I know, but there was still that part of me that wrestled with the idea of giving up some of my individual freedoms to be with another for life.

We talked last night, Susan and I, about this whole 'love' thing. We both know that there will be times where our love for eachother will be more out of choice than of desire. We both know that love can be tough, that relationships can be a struggle. But the awesome thing about commitment is that we're sold on eachother. And we're committed to eachother, no matter what. I'd like to believe that I know exactly what I'm getting myself into, but I'm learning that life is about learning, about discovering, and yes, about relationships.

oh, complacency

I'm trying something new. It's been almost a month since my last post, which is quite distressing and disheartening. I'd like to say that I am uninspired, but I know that's really not true. I've just grown complacent. Lazy. My week has become one of routine. Up at 7:30, work from 8:30 until 5:00, go home or to Susan's, then go to bed. Throw in a Monday night Bible Study and a weekend of pure nothingness + one church service, et voila. C'est ma vie. Oh, complacency.

It's been a long time since I've had a steady 9-5 job, and I'd kind of forgotten what it feels like to be in a routine. But I'd like to say this wasn't intentional. The thing about slipping into a routine is just that -- it's something you slip into. My hill of complacency began with the new year, as I started at this steady job at a print company. Gone are the days of Santa Claus photography, of mornings off and the freedom to do whatever I felt like doing whether it be job-seeking, photography, dreaming, or video games, or nothing. So, down I slid, but gently, so as not to awaken my restless soul. I'd like to say I'm content, and I am, for the most part. But there's that restless side of me that wants to be let out, if it could only break past my accustomed laziness. Emails sit in my inbox, unreplied. Friends await phone calls, undialed. Uncles and youth deserve a visit, unaccomplished. Thoughts demand paper, unwritten.

The to-do list in my mind grows untouched, and I simply sense it's growth, unrestrained. And so, here's what I've decided to do. My lunch break generally consists of an hour sitting behind my computer, diddle-daddling on Facebook, on cbc, on eating my peanut butter and jam sandwich. My new idea, my intention, is to use it wisely, and productively. Perhaps a daily blog will come out of it (don't hold your breath, though). This could even be called an un-Lent. I'll start doing something, dang it. And maybe I'll get somewhere....

memories...

The last few days have been, in my mind, interspersed with memories of the year gone by. 2007.

Reading my post from just over a year ago, I got to thinking of the year that just was. I remember that day, sitting up in Nakina just after Christmas when Amanda asked me what the year 2006 meant to me. And now, one year later, I'm trying to think of what 2007 was. I don't think that when I was asked that question a year ago, I would have thought that just a few months later I would be back in Nakina, spending my summer in Aroland. Already last summer seems like a distant memory. Looking through the photos of last summer bring back some great memories. Aroland definitely stands out in my mind when I think of 2007. I think of baseball, swimming, kayaking, biking. I think of the kids, of Merl and Cody, Brady, Bethany and Tammy, Niki, Tiffany and so many more...there's at least 30 names and faces in my mind still. And I think of Mary, who, only after a few months, miscarried. From that whole episode, I've learned to trust God to do what's best. John and Janet remain in Aroland, continuing to serve the community in any way they can, .

2007 was, for me, a year of experience and experiencing. From the breaking of a heart to it's mending in unexpected ways. From returning to an old life to beginning a new one in a brand new place. From urban life to the almost extreme of rural. New cultures and a new way of life. And finally, settling and constantly learning to be content, whatever the circumstances. There's something to be said about contentment.