Charlie, Juno, Delta and Echo....I scanned the names of the units noticing this may be the most creative thing in this whole building, besides the Winnipeg Jets logo painted on the inside walls. Peeled paint, solid steel doors, huge windows with guys in grey sweaters and orange baggy pants staring at the odd assortment of ladies (us). One with a guitar (me), others with Christmas carol sheets and a man with a box of bagged treats. We were armed with music of the season and smarties, entering the common area of the "gang unit", the "mentally challenged unit" and other disignations down the hallway. I noticed they are definately NOT built for privacy, showers, toilets, tv's and phones open and usable for those locked and living within.
Indeed, I had chosen to come with the Salvation Army group to sing and hand out "sunshine bags", smile and take requests like "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer", "Jingle Bells", and "Little Drummer Boy". I knew what I might experience, gaffawing, a little mocking, snickers and the range of looks that you know that it seems a little cheesy to sing christmas carols with inmates that rape, pillage, murder, steal your purse and other nasty things. But I didn't expect the look of one native guy, sitting quietly listening with a far away look in his eye and a soft smile on his lips. What I wouldn't give to know what he was thinking about, a distant memory of a past Christmas of peace and contentment? Love of a family member or the future wish of hope, freedom? I don't think it was smuggled drugs coursing through his veins or a vacant lot "nobody is home" space of mind.
So, we pack up and leave...say goodbye and get into our cars to escape the winter wind. Wire, bars, institution, locks and doors left behind as I turned off the gravel road onto the highway. To go pick up my kids, to make supper, to relax in a warm house and read the novel I left on the bed. The phone rings, and its a friend that has spent 15 years in the prison system. He's inviting us out for a Christmas meal, I thank him and I say, "Guess where I was today?". An hour later, he says it was the best present I could've given him, the story of my visit and how it impacted me. "What you did was go into the darkness to give these brothers a bit of light, thank you.....for them, for me". To me, a drop in the bucket, two hours, sore fingers and a chance to sing Jingle Bells. For them, its a word they are not forgotten, there is such a thing as dignity, humans treating them as human and a touch of some reality in a cement world.
When I read this poem this morning from muscian Steve Bell's website, I knew it was for our brothers in Lock Down...staring out the windows, eyes cast on life in the pen, life behind bars. May this day be one of hope and prayer released for them.
POEM: Stubble & Hay
by Gerry Atwell
Take the dusty trek across the barren field
Down those old till rows, never met no seeds
Find a place to lay as the sun gives way
To the dusk falling gently, fall away
And the echoes of your day subside
As you breathe again deep inside…
The crickets muse and the owl regards
As you slip away
Dream a dream of folly
Of other places where the night glows bright
With the painted faces and danger laughs
Of the ones who dance
All eye to eye all hand in hand
And only look to the sky when the glass comes by
And they never need to worry and they never need to cry
And you dream about the love you want to love you to want to love you
And you dream about the life you want to live you want live
And there are prizes for the biggest winners
There are roses and rubies and perfumes from far away
Bright young smiles line the banquet room
Beg you come inside and whistle them a tune
Eat all you want and pay the bill after
Every drop has been guzzled and there’s no more laughter
You look inside but you dare not enter
You back away and let yourself set
Back by the fire and the stubble and the hay
As the sun rises gently
Such a gift is one more day
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
Would you speak up?
This was a question my "soon-to-be-11" year old asked me on the way home today from school. He asked was it right for the Christian private school they are going to, to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on a new wing when so many are poor and suffering in Myanmar. They had a chapel this morning on the theme "Thanksgiving" where the host related that when so many are underpriviledged in this world, they are blessed to have the money to build this new wing to accomidate their growth. To at least 2 of my sons, this sounded contradictory and for my part, it did to me too. So launching into hollow-sounding reasons they may have for a new wing....I seemed to be painting myself into a corner. I finally said, perhaps they could've helped others reach a better standard first, and then think about expanding themselves. Nate piped up again, would you have told them that it was wrong to spend all that money on themselves? Honestly????? Would I? He was expecting an answer, so as I said that seeing all those people (many are very well to do) may make my courage find the first exit out of there! I said I would hope I would voice this hard question, and that staying in God's word and prayer would build me up to confront in the hard places.
I'm not sure if you all have kept up with the "Occupy New York" movement the past three weeks. These people, 700 now, are speaking up along with many thousands across the States and now Canada. We are the 99%!! The decisions on Wall Street and in tucked away board rooms are now coming home and sweeping jobs, life savings and struggling people off in a financial tsunami. I have a hard question for the church in this all, how much have we become part of this problem? How many off-base and selfish or neglectful "deals" have we cut to keep up the status quo and show to people a sucessful and progressing side of Christianity? While many go hungry, ignored and struggle in life and death issues. Something I want to see is a "Occupy Christian Church", sitting on the steps of the churches..."Wake Up"...don't let money make zombies out of you! Jesus even said, we choose what controls us money or God. Let's take the coin out of the fish's mouth and pay our obligations and get on with the real work of trusting God, serving the poor and speaking out the Truth of the Gospel of peace and justice.
I'm not sure if you all have kept up with the "Occupy New York" movement the past three weeks. These people, 700 now, are speaking up along with many thousands across the States and now Canada. We are the 99%!! The decisions on Wall Street and in tucked away board rooms are now coming home and sweeping jobs, life savings and struggling people off in a financial tsunami. I have a hard question for the church in this all, how much have we become part of this problem? How many off-base and selfish or neglectful "deals" have we cut to keep up the status quo and show to people a sucessful and progressing side of Christianity? While many go hungry, ignored and struggle in life and death issues. Something I want to see is a "Occupy Christian Church", sitting on the steps of the churches..."Wake Up"...don't let money make zombies out of you! Jesus even said, we choose what controls us money or God. Let's take the coin out of the fish's mouth and pay our obligations and get on with the real work of trusting God, serving the poor and speaking out the Truth of the Gospel of peace and justice.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Who Am I?
Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell's confinement
calmly, cheerfully, firmly
like a Squire from his country house.
Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.
Who am I? This or the Other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
and before myself a contemptible woeboegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!
dietrich bonhoeffer--tegel prison--1944
I stepped from my cell's confinement
calmly, cheerfully, firmly
like a Squire from his country house.
Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.
Who am I? This or the Other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
and before myself a contemptible woeboegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!
dietrich bonhoeffer--tegel prison--1944
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Discipleship for Dummies
On the cover of the book the face is passive and almost looks stern. Full lips, round wire-rimmed glasses with eyes that are firmly fixed foward, as if seeing a hard future. Hard it was, the story of one man who stood and with humility conquered the evil of a madman. Dietrich Bonhoeffer vs. Hilter of the Third Riech. An exercise of dangerous, risky, Christ following in the wake of the most horrendous agenda in history. I recently finished the HUGE biography (541 pages) and through snickers, hard thinking and tears felt like I had gone back in time and become friends with this incredible teacher and disciple. His passion was for each Christian and especially Christian leaders to come under the yoke of Christ, to learn of Him the practical theology and love for the world, for people. To learn "when Christ calls a man, he bids him to come and die" (taken from one of his books, The Cost of Discipleship).
"To come and die"...ouch. That led Dietrich to the gallows, with 4,999 of his fellow conspirators who for 10 years had worked hard to assisinate that madman. The guy that led a Sunday School for inner-city kids that no one would touch and turned it around to the best attended event for these kids in their week. The guy who loved writing alone in his wilderness cottage, who patiently took his Bible College students for walks and talks and hikes and showed them a practical Christianity that fell in love with people and offered truth and courage. The German guy who found Jesus in a black church in Harlem and fought racism in his home country. The guy who, in conviction of his hate for injustice and love for the Jews, become a double agent and plotted Hitlers demise and ended up in jail. This man who, when the Allies started bombing Berlin, got in a rickety van with sixteen other prisoners and thier luggage. Hundreds of miles later and three days before the camps were in Allies hands, hung on a gallows with peace and prayer on his lips.
Do we know of this kind of Jesus disciple in our Crispy Chip Christianity today? He was pressed, he made decisions, he prayed, he taught, he argued, the world was falling in around his shoulders, he despaired and yet he chose what God called him to do. The Christian church at that time opened their arms to their political saviour, Adolf Hilter. Only a few knew his real agenda, his deep evil puposes. No one could guess that many Christians were Hilter's arms and legs and voice that massacred millions and plunged Germany into a shame that would last generations. Lulled into pride, false theology, an illusion of security and rightness....this smacks of our Christian world today while the world falls around our shoulders and we (I) remain numb and distracted. Dummies that you could take for a car ride and they would bounce all over the car if it crashed. The Jesus disciple that our Father is calling us to be is one that is called out to die....there are many ways of dying, but may it be with the name of Christ on our lips and a steady hand out to the proud, the bruised, the empty. That is Nachfolge, The Cost of Discipleship.
"To come and die"...ouch. That led Dietrich to the gallows, with 4,999 of his fellow conspirators who for 10 years had worked hard to assisinate that madman. The guy that led a Sunday School for inner-city kids that no one would touch and turned it around to the best attended event for these kids in their week. The guy who loved writing alone in his wilderness cottage, who patiently took his Bible College students for walks and talks and hikes and showed them a practical Christianity that fell in love with people and offered truth and courage. The German guy who found Jesus in a black church in Harlem and fought racism in his home country. The guy who, in conviction of his hate for injustice and love for the Jews, become a double agent and plotted Hitlers demise and ended up in jail. This man who, when the Allies started bombing Berlin, got in a rickety van with sixteen other prisoners and thier luggage. Hundreds of miles later and three days before the camps were in Allies hands, hung on a gallows with peace and prayer on his lips.
Do we know of this kind of Jesus disciple in our Crispy Chip Christianity today? He was pressed, he made decisions, he prayed, he taught, he argued, the world was falling in around his shoulders, he despaired and yet he chose what God called him to do. The Christian church at that time opened their arms to their political saviour, Adolf Hilter. Only a few knew his real agenda, his deep evil puposes. No one could guess that many Christians were Hilter's arms and legs and voice that massacred millions and plunged Germany into a shame that would last generations. Lulled into pride, false theology, an illusion of security and rightness....this smacks of our Christian world today while the world falls around our shoulders and we (I) remain numb and distracted. Dummies that you could take for a car ride and they would bounce all over the car if it crashed. The Jesus disciple that our Father is calling us to be is one that is called out to die....there are many ways of dying, but may it be with the name of Christ on our lips and a steady hand out to the proud, the bruised, the empty. That is Nachfolge, The Cost of Discipleship.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Crazy Nights
It was around 11:30 pm, Thursday night that Steve and I heard the crackling. Sounded like rain on the roof, but it wasn't raining when we looked outside our bedroom window. I saw orange flames reflected off a neighbors house window down the alley and looked at Steve, "that's got to be fire!". We threw something appropriate on over our pajamas and took off down the stairs, Cyclone barking behind us. In the alley, a fire truck screamed by and stopped at a garbage bin about 4 houses down. Flames were reaching up the telephone pole and was climbing the neighbors fence. It was all over in about 10 minutes, but the remains of a discarded mattress smoldered. Steve saw a lady standing nearby, we found out she was a "alley neighbor" across from us and had just returned from a late choir practise at her church (believer? of course!). We stood chatting for awhile and went back to bed. We were up twice more that night with gang activity across the street and phone calls to the police. I allowed myself to sleep in that morning!
Last night, again up at 3 am with someone being chased down the street and sounds of a fight brewing. Police action broke that up, but as some members ran away and were hiding between the houses opposite of us, Steve called the police and again with their location. Then (as he described) four police cars, with search lights when up and down our street and alley way trying to find the guys hiding. Steve could see them, but the cops couldn't and he said it was almost comical the way they kept passing each other on the road, searching. They never found them.
7:15 am, Saturday morning.....more sirens scream down our street and stop at the "gang house" across from us. Hoses, axes, windows smashing, smoke rising from top floor. 2 hours later, boards go up and the door is nailed shut. Burned out, dumped and now left derelict....this small house endured a parting gift of the evicted gang members. And now peace. We can hear the rain, smell the fresh air of spring dripping off new leaves. Birds looking for worms and our new flowers looking pretty in our yard. It was two busy nights, alot of fear and tension, alot of great talks with neighbors. so many questions in creating a safe and fruitful neighborhood. Meanwhile, I'm hoping to get a good rest tonight. We pray for peace.
Last night, again up at 3 am with someone being chased down the street and sounds of a fight brewing. Police action broke that up, but as some members ran away and were hiding between the houses opposite of us, Steve called the police and again with their location. Then (as he described) four police cars, with search lights when up and down our street and alley way trying to find the guys hiding. Steve could see them, but the cops couldn't and he said it was almost comical the way they kept passing each other on the road, searching. They never found them.
7:15 am, Saturday morning.....more sirens scream down our street and stop at the "gang house" across from us. Hoses, axes, windows smashing, smoke rising from top floor. 2 hours later, boards go up and the door is nailed shut. Burned out, dumped and now left derelict....this small house endured a parting gift of the evicted gang members. And now peace. We can hear the rain, smell the fresh air of spring dripping off new leaves. Birds looking for worms and our new flowers looking pretty in our yard. It was two busy nights, alot of fear and tension, alot of great talks with neighbors. so many questions in creating a safe and fruitful neighborhood. Meanwhile, I'm hoping to get a good rest tonight. We pray for peace.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
That's Smashing!
It's Wednesday afternoon, about 4:30 pm. The boys are chatting and enjoying thier Wii game downstairs and I'm catching up on some email from a friend in the States. He writes that he missed his flight and appointment at a meeting and wondered why he was delayed....to avoid a plane crash on the one he was supposed to catch? To talk to someone needing help, or who will end their life if he wasn't there at the airport waiting...but he intervenes? Nope, nothing dramatic happens...but he does have a potential life changing talk with another believer on his next flight. "Cool", I was thinking half-way into the letter....neat way of thinking of upsetting circumstances! An opportunity, if we wait for it, not getting upset or bent out of shape.
SMASH! SMASH! I looked out my 2nd floor bedroom window and 4 boys (Grade 5-6) dressed in black seemed to be having a great time smashing glass bottles into smithereens in the alley way. After a couple times, I thought they were done, but I heard more and a bit ticked off, went downstairs to let Cyclone out to bark at them and see if I could get them to stop. Cyclone did a fine tyrade of barking and I went out the gate. The alley way was empty (those boys are fast!) except for a long line of smashed glass, jagged and raw. A car tried to inch past it, the lady smiled at me. I went for the kitchen broom. My ticked-offness was increasing as I swept pile by pile, wondering what the heck I was going to do to these kids as an encore.
A bike rode past. Then I moved for another car, the man gave me an angry glare as he tried to navigate around the huge shards. "Yah, wad 'up dude", I thought. He glares at ME? The nerve of some people.
I hear another broom sweeping down the way. The guy on the bike lives right there, he had got out his broom and was doing a clean up too. "Cool", I thought. My mind went to the kids again. I knew one of them from the kids class last year. Maybe next time I see them, I'll tell them that was not nice to smash bottles in our alley and their pictures will be up on the police wanted wall. Maybe I'll just get to know their names and give them ice pops.
Throwing the last bucket of glass into the bin, I went over to talk to my neighbor. He's a believer, has a 9-month old little one and seems like a nice guy. "We'll see you again!" he said, as I headed back to my gate. "You can count on it, with kids like that around!", I commented back. We were both smiling. Funny how the wierdest things can create a tad more community. Divine appointments? Yep, after I finish reading my friends letter, I think I'll grab the ice pops and meet some kids......
SMASH! SMASH! I looked out my 2nd floor bedroom window and 4 boys (Grade 5-6) dressed in black seemed to be having a great time smashing glass bottles into smithereens in the alley way. After a couple times, I thought they were done, but I heard more and a bit ticked off, went downstairs to let Cyclone out to bark at them and see if I could get them to stop. Cyclone did a fine tyrade of barking and I went out the gate. The alley way was empty (those boys are fast!) except for a long line of smashed glass, jagged and raw. A car tried to inch past it, the lady smiled at me. I went for the kitchen broom. My ticked-offness was increasing as I swept pile by pile, wondering what the heck I was going to do to these kids as an encore.
A bike rode past. Then I moved for another car, the man gave me an angry glare as he tried to navigate around the huge shards. "Yah, wad 'up dude", I thought. He glares at ME? The nerve of some people.
I hear another broom sweeping down the way. The guy on the bike lives right there, he had got out his broom and was doing a clean up too. "Cool", I thought. My mind went to the kids again. I knew one of them from the kids class last year. Maybe next time I see them, I'll tell them that was not nice to smash bottles in our alley and their pictures will be up on the police wanted wall. Maybe I'll just get to know their names and give them ice pops.
Throwing the last bucket of glass into the bin, I went over to talk to my neighbor. He's a believer, has a 9-month old little one and seems like a nice guy. "We'll see you again!" he said, as I headed back to my gate. "You can count on it, with kids like that around!", I commented back. We were both smiling. Funny how the wierdest things can create a tad more community. Divine appointments? Yep, after I finish reading my friends letter, I think I'll grab the ice pops and meet some kids......
Friday, April 22, 2011
Good Friday Song
We were a varied bunch, about 200 or so packed into a church that usually has traditional Baptist meetings. Messianic Jews from Fellowship of Messiah, with prayer cap and colored string, jean clad inner-city New Lifers, suit and tie seniors of Mission Baptist, house church members from the area and the Karen (Burma) with longyi and colorful woven vests from Citi Church. We all packed in to sing, hear the words of the cross and pray together. Apparently, this weekend there is also another calender convergance that rarely occurs, Orthodox Easter, "English" Easter, Passover, and Canada's Earth Day all on the same weekend. "In this," noted Michael Wodlinger (rabbi/pastor) of Haverim Mashiach fellowship group, "God has not made a mistake!" Unity under the cross would make a great topic this Easter!!!
One song that stuck out for me this morning was one that the Karen choir sang. One that their choir director wrote and taught to them (in their native Karen) called Look To The Cross:
One song that stuck out for me this morning was one that the Karen choir sang. One that their choir director wrote and taught to them (in their native Karen) called Look To The Cross:
Look on to the cross
To the bottom of the cross, I wish to go and rest.
It is a very high sheltering rock with the great shadow.
It is a place of escape and refuge during difficult times.
It is the road to rest and where heavy burdens are
lightened.
On the cross, there is my Jesus Christ
And with my broken heart, I am afraid to look upon Him
Though he suffered for me, His face always glows
With a heart of repentance, I bravely come
Jesus Chrsit, Your love is so great and wonderful
I should never follow where my heart leads me
When I think of all your love
Look on to the cross
May we all, from all traditions or no tradition, kneel at its shadow today, and everyday. Thank you Yeshua, Jesus, Son of God, the Lamb who took on everything that burdens us and as the Father embraces us as dear children, fill us with Your Holy Spirit of love and deep devotion. We are looking foward to Sunday morning, when the promise of new life is fulfilled, and and old hearts can be made new.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
A Morning Walk in the 'Hood
I like the creative use of old doors...you see this everywhere down here.
Major reno's on an old building looks horrid but inspires hope!!
Back on our own street, this is the house and chair of our old neighbor. She sits here to read her mail. Unfortunately her gate broke off the hinge and she props it up on the chair when she isn't using it
Cyclone relaxing after a great walk!Friday, March 11, 2011
Tsunami and Shakes
Waking up this morning to the news of the devestating earthquake and tsunami in Japan was another unreal experience. Like Burma some years ago, Cyclone Nargis, like Haiti's tragic earthquake, like Christchurch in New Zealand or Australia's flood situation, each of the seemingly regular disasters happening all over the world....not to mention the Middle East demonstrations and a guy like Ghaddafi's son telling the press, "what you see out there is a joke, nothing more then a joke!". Hope he remembers that line when he's held accountable one day, behind bars...although in his delusional state he is in a kind of sad self-made prison. yikes. Plus, almost unnoticed, we have passed into the yearly season of Lent.
Ash Wednesday, the time of desert journeys and wilderness wanderings, according to the church calender. Is this coincidence? Our groaning world has entered into a colossal Ash Wednesday, whether they like it or not. How can we prepare for the crashing wave of immediate and total destruction? It sweeps away everything in its powerful advance, with no regard to people, cars, buildings or nuclear reactors. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Mortality knocks and keeps on knocking on our Internet and TV screens, across town and even on our very doors. Who is next, who will save us, who will guide us through the wasteland, muck, debris and death?
About 40 days from now we celebrate Good Friday and Easter Sunday. The resurrection, the power of new life, abundance, of freedom, of the Kingdom to come, the King has returned from the desert of pain and death victorious and leading the way. He sees our brokenness, our wringing of our hands, our dirty bodies and parched mouths and hollow stomachs. He is sweeping away the props, the lies, the greed, the careless living. Are we ready for it?
Sunday night, at St. Benedict's, we sang as we ended our service:
Thank You for healing me,
loving me,
staying with me,
for holding me,
helping me
Thank You for breaking my heart
Thank You for tearing me apart
Now I'm a strong, strong heart
Thank you for breaking my heart
Can I thank Him for that ? I mean I like the loving and healing and holding and helping , but breaking and tearing???? That hurts, but I realize, with our human nature, that's what it takes to purify and refine these ol' deceptive hearts. In Your love and ultimate healing......"Thank You Lord, for breaking my heart".
Ash Wednesday, the time of desert journeys and wilderness wanderings, according to the church calender. Is this coincidence? Our groaning world has entered into a colossal Ash Wednesday, whether they like it or not. How can we prepare for the crashing wave of immediate and total destruction? It sweeps away everything in its powerful advance, with no regard to people, cars, buildings or nuclear reactors. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Mortality knocks and keeps on knocking on our Internet and TV screens, across town and even on our very doors. Who is next, who will save us, who will guide us through the wasteland, muck, debris and death?
About 40 days from now we celebrate Good Friday and Easter Sunday. The resurrection, the power of new life, abundance, of freedom, of the Kingdom to come, the King has returned from the desert of pain and death victorious and leading the way. He sees our brokenness, our wringing of our hands, our dirty bodies and parched mouths and hollow stomachs. He is sweeping away the props, the lies, the greed, the careless living. Are we ready for it?
Sunday night, at St. Benedict's, we sang as we ended our service:
Thank You for healing me,
loving me,
staying with me,
for holding me,
helping me
Thank You for breaking my heart
Thank You for tearing me apart
Now I'm a strong, strong heart
Thank you for breaking my heart
Can I thank Him for that ? I mean I like the loving and healing and holding and helping , but breaking and tearing???? That hurts, but I realize, with our human nature, that's what it takes to purify and refine these ol' deceptive hearts. In Your love and ultimate healing......"Thank You Lord, for breaking my heart".
Monday, February 28, 2011
"Welcome Aboard!"
Guess what my oldest found written on the back of his new HT Ice-fishing Kit that he bought this afternoon.....
If this is your first "HT" product, Welcome Aboard......now that you are part of our family, I thought you might like to know a little more about our family business. The remarkable growth of the "HT" product line was no accident. From it's first stages as a hobby to its ever-increasing rapid growth as a business, God has always been the Major Shareholder. We fell He has introduced you to us and that you are a part of His goodness. In hard times, He has never failed in giving us the answers we needed. Each product must reflect the integrity of the business, including our Major Shareholder. If we sometimes fail, because we are human, we find it an absolute must to go the last mile to correct our mistake. Our Major Shareholder is also our Heavenly Father, and it is a great comfort for us to have this security in these troubled times.
If you read these words and find that you are troubled or in need, our Heavenly Father has the answer you have been searching for. God has told us to "come unto Him, all that labor and are heavy laden, for He will give you rest". Additionally, "God so loved you and me that he gave His only son, Jesus Christ, to die in our place and that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life".
It is God's love in our family that has made this family business what it is today. Just remember that anything is possible with God, when you make Him your Major Shareholder.
Best wishes and Good Fishing,
Paul F. Grahl (HT Enterprises Inc.)
Can't beat that message on the product of something bought at the local Cabela's!! Worth another read, don't you think? Good fishing......!
If this is your first "HT" product, Welcome Aboard......now that you are part of our family, I thought you might like to know a little more about our family business. The remarkable growth of the "HT" product line was no accident. From it's first stages as a hobby to its ever-increasing rapid growth as a business, God has always been the Major Shareholder. We fell He has introduced you to us and that you are a part of His goodness. In hard times, He has never failed in giving us the answers we needed. Each product must reflect the integrity of the business, including our Major Shareholder. If we sometimes fail, because we are human, we find it an absolute must to go the last mile to correct our mistake. Our Major Shareholder is also our Heavenly Father, and it is a great comfort for us to have this security in these troubled times.
If you read these words and find that you are troubled or in need, our Heavenly Father has the answer you have been searching for. God has told us to "come unto Him, all that labor and are heavy laden, for He will give you rest". Additionally, "God so loved you and me that he gave His only son, Jesus Christ, to die in our place and that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life".
It is God's love in our family that has made this family business what it is today. Just remember that anything is possible with God, when you make Him your Major Shareholder.
Best wishes and Good Fishing,
Paul F. Grahl (HT Enterprises Inc.)
Can't beat that message on the product of something bought at the local Cabela's!! Worth another read, don't you think? Good fishing......!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
"You Should Have Asked if They Were Christian"
Just got off the phone with a Christian parent whose son is invited to Josiah's 14th birthday bash and sleep-over. When she found out where the party was, she had second thoughts and wanted to talk about it with me. She said she felt sorry and awkward, but Maryland St. is "probably not the safest place to hold a sleep-over....don't you think?". Steve, Jo and about 9 other boys are planning to watch movies, play sardines and dine on many snacks till the wee hours in a building at 514 Maryland St. Our church, our second home, not far from Furby where we live. I said, "we live on Furby not far from the church and we've been here many years and have hardly had any problems!" So it went, her misgivings, her misinformation (she has never walked or "stopped" in the West End before, even though she works in a nearby hospital). I was feeling my blood boil a bit when she brought up the media. "I always hear of incidents in that area on the news!" I said that many of us who live here are dissapointed with the bias the news gives, when city-wide there are incidents all over the place and are never reported. I told her I have my own bias, I love living here, the life and aliveness, the diversity of University students and hard working immigrants, normal families. She had to chew on that for a few minutes before she answered, "well, I'll talk to my husband again about it and I'll let you know." She thanked me for being open with her. I wondered that if we had a few hours, I'd probably convince her to move here too! I ended up with saying that we are here to make a difference, be good neighbors and raise our kids knowing the good, bad and ugly but trusting and believing God can change the stuff that isn't so good, and keep us safe at the same time (not that he has too, mind you...). Well, even a drop off and pick up was risky for her to think about, no matter what I tried to reassure her.
After relating this to the boys (who were curious what the big topic was about), Jo was confused and questioning. Alot of these guys at the sleep over are from a Christian school by suburb residences that he is going to this year. "I can't believe it!" he said. "We've been here a long time! and we're doing good here!
piped in Silas. "You should've asked them if they were real Christians" Jo said. Yep, that just might have been my next words out of my mouth. To risk, to love, to walk the West End streets and trust in His grace to make this a good place for me, my kids, my church family....that is being a real Christian.
After relating this to the boys (who were curious what the big topic was about), Jo was confused and questioning. Alot of these guys at the sleep over are from a Christian school by suburb residences that he is going to this year. "I can't believe it!" he said. "We've been here a long time! and we're doing good here!
piped in Silas. "You should've asked them if they were real Christians" Jo said. Yep, that just might have been my next words out of my mouth. To risk, to love, to walk the West End streets and trust in His grace to make this a good place for me, my kids, my church family....that is being a real Christian.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
You Need to Talk About Thier Dog
"So we had this ESL teacher called David", Indy said with a smile, reminiscing. "He said to our group, newly come from refugee camps to Canada, to make friends here you must talk about their pets first!" . The people around the table, giggled and thought about Canadian conversations. "Yes, so I saw my neighbors and talked about thier dog, or cat or whatever they had and it worked! Except when I meet my Phillipino neighbor, they spoke broken English, I spoke broken English, we couldn't go back and forth!". Our giggles became a little more louder, as Indy himself broke into a huge smile and laughed with us. "In Burma, we don't care about our dogs like that", he kept on, "it was so strange to hear that, Canadians care more about dogs then people." Wow, that one took my breath away. What a commentary on our present society...what would he say at how much we spend on pet food (just the right kind), vet bills, toys and trinkets? How much we actually talk about them at home to family members...one of the first things the kids do when they run down the stairs in the morning is give Cyclone a hug and kiss, and "Hi Mom!" after.
Anyways, Indy and I had been at a meeting of our West End Christian Collective group. He had told about his recent trip to the Thai-Burma border in refugee camps of up to 50,000 people. Children have grown up in these camps, never leaving its boundaries and are now youth with really no past and no future. 10 churches in one camp try to meet needs, but they woefully fall short of resources and tools to help people spiritually and physically. A hill of humanity, with no where to run to or go if the Burma militia decides it's time for a raid. Indy is a co-pastor of City Church, an immigrant and refugee church of 250 just a half block from our little church. Asian, African, Caucasian worship there in unity and purpose...trying to heal from the past and struggle through a difficult present in the inner-city. Many youth at this church are still searching for hope and a purpose, and love youth group every week but are faced with inner-city realities that bond them tight against gangs and racist neighbors.
Will I talk about my pets with neighbors when I see them next (after the blizzard threatening this evening)? I might, for that connection, but remembering a refugee's, an immigrant, a fellow Canadian's need for relationship, hopeless hearts and minds, a neighbor is one who stops at the side of the road to heal, understand and nuture (any smackings of Jesus' parable?? Of the Samaritan who stops....), I will follow the thread to get-to-know and to-be-known. A little more like the surprising concern of the guy in the parable. Perhaps this is a simple "how to" of neighborhood (and world) transformation?
Anyways, Indy and I had been at a meeting of our West End Christian Collective group. He had told about his recent trip to the Thai-Burma border in refugee camps of up to 50,000 people. Children have grown up in these camps, never leaving its boundaries and are now youth with really no past and no future. 10 churches in one camp try to meet needs, but they woefully fall short of resources and tools to help people spiritually and physically. A hill of humanity, with no where to run to or go if the Burma militia decides it's time for a raid. Indy is a co-pastor of City Church, an immigrant and refugee church of 250 just a half block from our little church. Asian, African, Caucasian worship there in unity and purpose...trying to heal from the past and struggle through a difficult present in the inner-city. Many youth at this church are still searching for hope and a purpose, and love youth group every week but are faced with inner-city realities that bond them tight against gangs and racist neighbors.
Will I talk about my pets with neighbors when I see them next (after the blizzard threatening this evening)? I might, for that connection, but remembering a refugee's, an immigrant, a fellow Canadian's need for relationship, hopeless hearts and minds, a neighbor is one who stops at the side of the road to heal, understand and nuture (any smackings of Jesus' parable?? Of the Samaritan who stops....), I will follow the thread to get-to-know and to-be-known. A little more like the surprising concern of the guy in the parable. Perhaps this is a simple "how to" of neighborhood (and world) transformation?
Sunday, January 16, 2011
two months
Not sure how to explain my two month interval in writing in my blog. After two specific encouragements at how some readers like my writings...I am reminded that I like to write and that my brain actually functions better after a good deposit of words and thoughts into this page. (sounds like other bodily needs that feels good after a dump....). Ok. So there was November.....hmmmm....not much to remember except keeping the home fires burning. Let's try December....nothing comes to mind...Christmas? Two hours in a car line up at U.S. customs to end up at the "Caribbean of the High Seas" Water Park in Grand Forks? Going into a log cabin theatre room to watch Dawn Treader and being disappointed with the first island adventure that wasn't at all like the book and what was all those clean uniforms for, even after grimeing it out for months and against a sea serpent? Doesn't one look rather worn and ragged after facing your worst nightmare and holding the rudder for days in a storm?? For that, (my two-bit commentary) I think C.S. Lewis would be dissapointed to see his image of the journey distorted. I did like Eustace though, his face was priceless...something that charms and defines him in story. Aslan raking the sand didn't cut it for me, the book depicts him as raking his dangerous, ripping claws down Eustace's scales to remove the skin. That feels more like what Christ does to remove that habit of sin skin that is wrapped so tightly around us. Agony, and once gone, pure bliss. That's redemption.
I could write about a strange panic dream I had a couple of weeks ago, dumpy house, different neighborhood...the man (one of the many sitting all over in our house) who yelled, "so you're the new tenants??" Tenants? I thought, no, my worst nightmare!!!! And another young man wanting juice for his daughter in the kitchen...I look in the fridge, moldy and dirty...leftovers from the previous occupants. "Nope! Just water this time!"...inside I am freaking out.."where is my beautiful, calm, safe haven Furby house with my comforting yellow blanket on my bed????". I was so glad to wake up out of that dream under that comforting yellow blanket. Or I could write about my walk the other day and was amazed at the number of shopping carts upended in the snow banks, then one in front of a house filled with snow chunks (???)
So I'm kind of having writer's block, be patient, I'll think of something yet.
I could write about a strange panic dream I had a couple of weeks ago, dumpy house, different neighborhood...the man (one of the many sitting all over in our house) who yelled, "so you're the new tenants??" Tenants? I thought, no, my worst nightmare!!!! And another young man wanting juice for his daughter in the kitchen...I look in the fridge, moldy and dirty...leftovers from the previous occupants. "Nope! Just water this time!"...inside I am freaking out.."where is my beautiful, calm, safe haven Furby house with my comforting yellow blanket on my bed????". I was so glad to wake up out of that dream under that comforting yellow blanket. Or I could write about my walk the other day and was amazed at the number of shopping carts upended in the snow banks, then one in front of a house filled with snow chunks (???)
So I'm kind of having writer's block, be patient, I'll think of something yet.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)