I Was Never Addicted To Crack.

Some friends of mine have been recently going through a mind melting hardship with an illness in their family.  I don't want to expand on it a ton because it's personal to them and their family and it's not my place to talk about their stuff.  I will say that it reminded me of something I have needed to get straight.

When Krista passed away, I needed God.  I wasn't happy with God, but I needed God.  They are two different things.  Sometimes you can have both, other times you can seemingly only have one.  One of my buddies, Sid Koop, was speaking the other day at church and he said, "Our level of excitement for a Saviour increases when we understand our need."  The level of understanding of our need for God, directly correlates to how excited we get when we approach our faith.

Again, I know that some people who read this will think this "God" talk is absolute poppycock.  Not the good "brand name" kind of Poppycock either.  You know, the great tasting caramel popcorn and nut mixture that I am sure many of you partook of during this Christmas/New Year's season. (Go buy some for your New Year's party, you won't be disappointed.  Unless you are allergic to nuts. In that case you would get an allergic reaction and be very disappointed.)  I suppose that I don't know if I can really speak to you on this blogpost because this post is about my need for God.  I think there is a God, and there's a lot that goes behind that thought (more than I can write tonight, and which are better written about in books like, C.S. Lewis' - Mere Christianity, and Tim Keller's - Reason for God), so you may or may not get a ton out of this.

That being said, I am not assuming that many of you who do believe in God will get much out of my ramblings tonight either, but that is neither here nor there.  This is about MY need for God.  I'll let you work out what you think for yourself.

Anyway...

I remember when I was a kid in youth groups and I remember hearing stories at retreats or concerts and stuff like that from people who came from rough situations.  I'm talking about drug addiction, alcoholic, homeless, criminal behaviour stuff.  I was always really uplifted by stories of coming to faith by these people who had NOTHING else, and they turned to God.  They realized their need for something greater than themselves and asked forgiveness from God.  Their lives turned around, dramatically in some cases, and they found themselves unable to keep quiet about their need for God.  They told everyone they knew.  Sometimes it became their life calling.  Sharing their stories to help young people steer clear of pitfalls they knew all to well, and to share that their reason for living was a relationship with Jesus Christ.

I would always feel really pumped up after those retreats, really excited about my faith, then, I would go back to my life the next week.  Sometimes in fact, I would leave the retreat thinking, "How the heck am I going to share my story of faith with someone?  I have never been within an inch of my life from a crack binge!", "What kind of a story do I have?  Kid from small southern Alberta, raised in the middle class, well fed, healthy, gone to church his whole life, accepted Jesus as his Saviour at age 6.  That is not going to headline any speaking tour!"  That would bug me from time to time.  More on that later...

Since I can remember, I have never been afraid to speak about my faith in God, I don't feel like I bludgeon people over the head with it. (some of you may tell me otherwise)  Never really was one for that style.  After those retreats I would get excited about how I could share my faith, or that maybe, God would show me a situation that I could speak too, and lots of people would come to care about God.  Slowly though, I would drift into everyday.  Sometimes you just forget your need.  Until some disaster happens, then I would get shocked right back into how much I need God.

I was reading an article the other day by a guy named Randy Alcorn.  He wrote a book called, "Heaven".  I read parts of that book when Krista passed away, and I appreciated how he looked at the Bible, and tried to sort out different possibilities on what different sections of Scripture could tell people about what that might look like.  Anyway, he was talking the other day about how when people ask, "Where is God?" in times of crisis, he sometimes wonders, "I wonder how much garbage God has protected us from today?"  He's not saying it in a pious, "I never question God and always look at the bright side because I am so spiritual" way.  He was seriously thinking, with all the capability in the world for wrong to happen, isn't it amazing that more stuff doesn't go wrong?  Maybe we need to think about that as well?  The problem is, we don't recognize a "normal" day as a "good" one until something devastating happens.  Any of you who have gone through tough times, were probably longing for a "normal" day because it would have seemed so much better than the crap you were going through. 

That's why I don't believe that you need to have some ridiculous conversion story to share what Christ means to you.  I think every person's story is real in it's own way.  We don't have to "jazz" it up just to share our faith.  We don't have to have a nice perfect little answer to everything either.  People reading this who don't believe in God, don't have perfect answers for everything either.  We need  to talk to, listen to, and try and understand each other.  Maybe we won't ever understand each other, but that is no reason to disrespect each other...

Basically what I started thinking tonight is that I am so thankful to God for what is normal now.  Three years ago, if you would have asked me what three years in the future's "normal" would look like I would have had no idea.  My idea would have likely been significantly less joyful than what a real day looks like now.  I don't want to forget my need.  I don't want to forget my blessings.  I don't want to sugar coat my troubles either.  I hope I can make the realization of my need for God more of an ever present thing than it has been lately.  Lately it's a, "Thanks so much God for what you have done in my life, but I might not think about you until the next time I say the grace for my food, or bedtime prayers." type thing.  That mundane thinking needs to stop.  I need to recognize my need.  How that looks every day will be different, but it needs to be there for me.  That's when I feel most "right".

Anyway, here's to you not having a "normal" week, but having a "good" week.  Not just because good things happen, but because maybe God is closer somehow this week.  I'm sure many of you reading this, did not need to read it because you are in a place where you feel God close, others of you may feel like me.  Some of you may feel like you want to talk more about why I think people need God.  Just send me a message and I would be happy to talk about it.

Have a good night.

Santa - To tell, or not to tell, that is the blogpost...

     When I was a kid, I’m pretty sure my parents didn’t put up the charade that Santa existed.  I remember being at a preschool or something like that when a Santa guy came in and gave each of us kids a present, and I was pumped because it was a sweet yellow race car with sweet yellow rims.  It was sweet.  It seems to me that as I think about it now, that I was a little skeptical that it was a legit Santa, but never said anything.  In fact, I’m going to phone my mom right now and ask her...

(5 minutes later)

... So the reason why I was a bit skeptical is because right from the start my parents told me there was no Santa (just got the info from my mom).  We were never told or sold the story of a fat guy in a red suit (which makes no sense because we all know that if you are overweight that you should have a black suit, because it's slimming...) who magically comes down a chimney with gifts, eats your food, and then breaks into your next door neighbour’s house version of Santa.  The idea is so weird.  Nowadays, if you were trying to make up a story that you wanted to become tradition, a man coming into your house while you were sleeping, creeping around and leaving packages in exchange for cookies and milk, would be a bad place to start.  It's flat out creepy. 

My mom and dad told my sister and I all about St. Nicholas, and the whole history aspect of it, and the tradition but never fooled us into believing the gift giving to every good child version.  

“That's terrible!” Some of you are saying.  "That's exactly how my family did it.", others of you are saying.  It's actually a pretty polarizing (hehe, that's a pun of sorts because of the North Pole and all...) topic.  I always discuss it with my classes when it starts getting close to Christmas.  I ask them how many of them were told that there was a Santa, and believed it.  Probably about 3/4 of the class is like that on average. Then I ask them, "How many of you were devastated when you found out that he did not exist?" Probably about a quarter of those say that they were rattled to the point of tears when they found out.  I always then ask, "How many of you are going to tell your kids that Santa is real?", and I am always amazed when most of the kids who got hurt the most let me know that they are going to tell their kids about Santa.

They are knowingly going to do something to their kids that they distinctly, and clearly remember as being a terrible moment in their life. "But, the good outweighs the bad. The magic of Christmas!  I want my kids to experience that.  I will love the look on their face when they are so excited that Santa has brought them a present." That's what those kids and other parents I know who are part of  "Team Santa" say, when I ask them why they would do that to their kids.  I guess the look on the face would be pretty priceless.  Imagination coming true is a pretty cool thing to allow a kid to have.

I am pretty sure that you can tell that I am not on "Team Santa".  Krista and I agreed long ago that we wouldn't tell our kids that he was real because we just didn't feel right about it.  I just didn't want to start out the early years of my kids lives by lying to them about where their presents were coming from.  I know that some people do stockings from Santa and some people do presents from Santa, but we both decided to not do anything from Santa to our kids because we didn't want to tell them something that was 100% not true.  I don't ever, EVER, remember being cheated because I received presents from my parents instead of a mysterious obese man.  My mom used to make scavenger hunts for my sister and I to rip around the house to find our presents, and when we got older we actually had to follow clues and drive around to get them.  (that ruled)  

Our kids have a blast when they get to Christmas morning.  They are happy to receive presents.  It's a great time. I have had many conversations with my kids about NOT telling other kids that there is no Santa.  It's not their job to tell other kids.  If another kid asks them a direct question about it, I tell them to tell that kid that they don't believe in Santa, but to leave it at that.  It is the job of that kid's parents to tell them the ins and outs of that truth when the time is right for their family.  The thing is, even if Jaxon mentioned in conversation why he didn't believe in Santa, namely because it's 100% not true, should the parents of that other kid even be mad?  Do they have a right to be mad about my son discussing the truth with someone?  I vote No.  If you are going to keep the facade of Santa going into the school years then you are playing with fire.  If your kid comes home devastated because someone told them that Santa didn't exist, then I think that's your fault as a parent for setting your kid up like that.  (Man, I really sound like I'm getting worked up here, and, I suppose I am.)  I hope Jaxon, Grace and Soph aren't the bearers of bad news for your kids, but if they are being asked directly, I won't tell them to lie just to save some kid's feelings.  I will always tell them to tread lightly on this topic with their friends because it isn't their job to go and tell everyone who doesn't believe.  That's just being a jerk.  But I will not tell them to avoid a direct question because that compromises their ability to learn what integrity is.  I think we would all like our kids to stand up for what is true and right.  Some people would argue that "truth" is different to different people, with regards to religious beliefs and stuff like that.  I understand your argument with that stuff, but NOT about something as false as Santa.  If I make my kids second guess themselves about something like that, I am setting a double standard early.  "Tell the truth about this, but not about that..." is kind of what I am saying.  I don't ever want them to be confused about when to tell the truth when it is being asked of them.

That all sounds rather serious and hardcore, but I guess that's the way I am on this issue.  Anyway, I know some of you will think I am a Scrooge for this stance on this subject.  Some of you will agree with me.  At any rate, here is a video by C.G.P. Grey that talks about where the North American version of Santa comes from.  If you are talking to your kids about it, it's pretty interesting. 

Here is another video of a Christmas tradition in Austria called Krampus. It's crazy.

I realized I just ranted.  Goodnight now.  Merry Christmas.

This Is The Start Of My Book.

This is the start of the book I am trying to write.  I think I am going to call it "AFTER KRISTA".  Here is a cover idea. I hope to have it done by the summer.  If you are reading this, thanks.  Unless you don't like it.  In that case don't ever talk to me again.  Just kidding of course.  I like acting like an idiot at times. (by the way, it's not really edited or anything yet, just basic right now)

Foreword

I don’t know if you are like me, but when I see a Foreword in a book, I want to just skip it and get into the chapters.  It’s like I don’t really think that it is part of the book or something.  However, I always feel guilty not reading the Foreword, so, I reluctantly start to read it and always feel better about it.  Like I actually read the book like a proper reader should.  I know that sounds a bit dumb, but that’s my brain.  I realize that the author wants me to have a background or a focus for their writing.  Some people just read the Foreword because it’s just what they do. 

 Anyway, for whatever reason you are reading this Foreword, I thank you because I want to make sure you get a couple things about me, and why I decided to write this thing.

I want you to know that I am not writing this book because I consider myself an “author”.  Even telling my friends that I was going to write a book felt weird.  I picture authors as smart people who have a great grasp of language and sort of bestow their knowledge on us. In reality they are people just like you and I that just decided to put their thoughts and stories on paper to share them.  Some are awesome, some, not so much, and I have no idea where I fit on the spectrum.  I’m pretty sure I’ll find out that out after I finish.

To say that I hope you like this book would be a strange thing to say considering the topic.  The word “like” can mean so many different things.  What I really hope is that through my sharing of my experiences in marriage, kids and rough times, that you can understand that you are not alone and that you can take comfort in that.

 

After my wife Krista passed away three years ago, I started writing thoughts that came to me, and it helped me to sort out how I wanted to deal with things that would come my way in the future.  I had to  reflect on how I had dealt with situations before Krista died and evaluate what I needed to keep and what I needed a change in perspective on.  I started writing a blog, and I wanted to flesh things out in a greater fashion.

I’m almost done the Foreword.

What I really hope you understand is this.  I do not think I know everything.  I write because I want to explore the things I want to know and these are my thoughts. The thing about thoughts is that they can change based on your experience.  The thoughts you have in the future may not be the thoughts you had 10 years, 5 years, 10 minutes ago.  These are a collection of my thoughts now, and I know I will continue to think about them as my life continues, however long that is.

1 – Where do babies come from?

On August 26^th 2009, my daughter Sophie was born.  She is third of my three children.  Jaxon was 6 and Grace was 4 at the time Soph was born.  I tell you, there is not really anything more beautiful than seeing your wife give birth.  Wait.  That’s not really true at all in one sense of the word “beauty”.  In that sense of the word, the striking/good-looking/gorgeous sense, there’s probably nothing much worse than child birth if we’re being honest.  There’s a lot going on there that wouldn’t be considered beautiful in that sense.  You know what I mean though.  I am talking about when a child is anticipated and desired.  When people take seriously the magnitude of what it means to bring another life into the world.  That is significant.  That’s when it’s a beautiful miracle.  The thing that is crazy to me about kids is all that needs to happen to have them arrive.  I’m not talking about sex either.

Krista and I met in university.  I was from Medicine Hat Alberta Canada.  Yes, my hometown is called Medicine Hat.  It stems from a battle that was fought between two native tribes on the banks of the South Saskatchewan River and when the Medicine man from the Cree tribe lost his Hat the battle was over and then the Europeans who settled there called the town Medicine Hat.  Jay Leno mentioned Medicine Hat in one of his monologues where he mocked the name, and we have the largest teepee in the world there along with about 60,000 people.  It really is a lovely city.  I suppose my description isn’t doing it justice, but that isn’t really the point of this book.

Krista was from Calgary Alberta, Canada.  It has about 1 million people.  It is home to two professional sports teams you may have heard of.  The Calgary Flames of the NHL (National Hockey League), and the Calgary Stampeders of the CFL (Canadian Football League).  It is home to the Calgary Stampede which is a pretty big deal there.  It’s a big, week-long fair that involves a rodeo, carnival games and rides, bands, and a whole bunch of people dressing up like cowboys.  Many of said cowboys like to get really hammered too.  It’s a pretty big party.  The majority of these people never dress up as cowboys again the entire rest of the year, but it unfortunately gives the impression to foreigners who visit during that time that everyone is a cowboy.  I swear, if anyone ever had a layover in Calgary and got their impression of what a Canadian was by the airport gift shop, they would think that all we did was eat maple syrup, and ride around on horses. Or bulls.

Krista and I met when we were both recruited to play basketball at the University of Lethbridge.  I’m a general science major (Biology/Chemistry/Archaeology (Physics to start, but when math turned from numbers to letters, I was out)) and she was an English major who had a minor in partying.  In fact, I’m pretty sure it was the other way around...

...and it will continue from there.  Thanks for reading the start to a book.