Bees in My Bonnet

 People tell me I've had an interesting life. And finally, I've begun to believe them. But here's the thing: I was taught that talking and writing about myself was a form of self-centredness. When I was younger, I used to talk about myself and my life and experiences and stories quite freely. But likely some of this was excessive. And along the way, with certain ones giving me negative input and reprimanding me over this issue, I became more cautious. Now, likely some of this negative input was valid. Maybe I was self-centred. Maybe I did talk about myself too much. And well-meaning others meant to help me learn to interact better. And I hope, these many years later, I have learned something of the value of limiting the telling of my life. But I'm not sure the shaming and reproach were exactly helpful to my soul in this matter. And I've had to overcome a lot to even begin to tell some of my life here on my blog.  Joseph in the Bible comes to mind. He had dreams and ...

 Random Thoughts in the Middle of the Night It is what I call 'Writers Unite" hour. Except it's not exactly an hour. It's that time in the middle of the night when writers everywhere have all the thoughts zipping this way and that and they start writing things in their heads and then get into a debate about going to all the trouble to get up and write the things in their heads, and mostly the urge to lie still and keep thinking and doze off wins out and most of those thoughts float into 'nowhere land.' Which reminds me of that great Beatles song, 'Nowhere man,' but I digress, as I'm prone to do, forgive me. So I was thinking about mental health things - like, mostly my mental health things - and I was thinking to all my strange and unusual journeys. I was thinking about all the wonderful ways God has shown up for me. I reflect on these things often - sometimes they are super tangible and concrete, and often they are super obvious, yet hidden all at ...

I think this is the one probably everyone can at least find some connection to, because, as far as I can tell, we all eat.  I considered expanding this category to include anything that has a special interest - like a particular sports team or a certain brand name of shoes, or a certain city or language or culture (for me that would be HONG KONG!! - shout out to all my Hong Konger friends!) But I think special interest might be its own category.  I'm still hashing this all out in my head, and that can take a while to foment. Thanks for your patience. Why is food a particular love language? Why is it not in the category of 'gifts' or 'quality time'? Because it might blend these two, but it may also include words of affirmation ("You baked this amazing cake?!! Wow! I feel so loved!!"). Since it touches on so many categories - like, even touch - who can eat food without touching it? - it must be its own special category. We even talk of 'serving a meal...

(If you missed Part 1, click here to go back) After some of what I picked up from Monet, I then circled back to the previous gallery where I'd missed the works of Toulouse-Lautrec.  I knew very little about him, but I saw a crowd sitting and standing around a huge painting and a guy talking about the artist and this work.  I was curious, so I began to eavesdrop, as I am apt to do. He was in the middle of showing how Lautrec had initially cut out the part of the painting with the green-faced woman in it.  She is off to the side, with a distressed look on her face, and not exactly an attractive part of the painting.  One could understand that he wanted her out of the image.  Then he went on to tell the story of who this woman was and what we know of her.  I found her story fascinating. She was a kind of show-girl - dancer, singer - stage performer, and she was out to make it and become someone - maybe sought fame or applause.  He said we really kn...

Back in November I wrote a post about collecting Manna - I explained what Manna was in the Bible and how I am making a habit of observing the Manna God sends me each day.  Sometimes my eyes grow dim and it is hard to see the hand of God at work in my life.  Sometimes I jot down my days events and it is foggy looking back over the day and I feel like I am a spoiled child even wondering what God is up to.  Yesterday was not one of those days.  Nor the day before. Because God dropped Manna in my lap, and I think you'll like these accounts. The week after I wrote that, I received a generous gift - a cheque in the mail - with a note saying, 'Here's some manna to supplement your grocery budget.'  I kid you not.  It may be a helpful reference point to put this out there: My weekly budget for gas and grocery (everything except medical) is $255 U.S. (dollars, that is).  Is it crazy to think of feeding a household of 9 (including 17 year old son who can...

True love is a sandwich The sacrifice of time Yearning for one more moment: Sleep, warm catharsis I'm pulled by love to the kitchen. Maybe chips, sweets, crackers - Caloric fillers to top them up? True love slices the tomato - Ripe, juicy - just enough squish to layer Textures of delight in crevices - Slices mixed-grain sustenance Freshly dense, yeasty With extra wheat-germ And just a touch of molasses. The Grand Sandwich Dotted, smeared, draped in White and yellow glue Unites distinguished parts Into a cohesive whole: The love is forming. "It's always good with fresh dill Sprinkled on top." A ceremonious christening Must sanctify The gardener in me Cultivates and collects seeds Which, not unlike me, Require burial and yielding, If only by force of wetness And darkening Must die to their old, tiny, lifeless and Dry life, To begin a new one. A breaking, hidden in deep earth, Mystically imparts life Their leaf will adorn my lov...

This is what I wrote just a week ago, on Dad's 77th birthday. Tuesday, 3rd January, 2017 Today Dad would've been 77 years old - and he would tell me that he had attained perfection eleven times over (7 being the number of perfection)!  The grief and missing him comes in waves - tears cannot be restrained and emerge when I'm alone, driving to pick up kids or wishing I could watch him blow out candles on the traditional Crutchfield birthday cake. Last year I decided to form my year around 3 words - to orient me, to clarify where I was at or what was/were going to be my theme(s).  I found myself with an uncanny (and unusual, for me) drive to clean - toothpick clean - and found cleaning to be both therapeutic and frustrating at the same time.  The word "CLEANING" emerged for me as a picture of much needed backlog of internal soul-work that had been left untouched. I had prayed for God to lead me to the three words I needed for the year.  And on the threshold of...

An extra day - a breather; a pause. Crisp air, rushing winds, but deadness still sits on parched and empty branches. Just enough warmth to warrant hope and a hint of squishyness in the mud - To promise the dawning of spring. Lent is a season of austerity - a time away from what is our common lot.  I put off a habit and add one that requires discipline.  I wonder what it is really all about - the ashes, mourning, reflection on spiritual life.  Perhaps the last moments of this winter are a visual, experiential reminder of the deadness of soul, which without Christ's redeeming - and resurrecting - work, would remain our permanent condition. Winter's deadness seems to say, "Come, and sit a while in this quiet emptiness.  No life is visible in me, yet we know resurrection is at hand.  But, for now, wait in it - feel what the absence of vibrant life is like.  And wait.  Yearn.  Hope - while it is dark and bleak.  Be still in it.  Do no...

Someone asked me today what I thought my trajectory might be for 2016.  I said I really have no idea.  It isn't something one can answer off the cuff, if that one is me, I suppose.  After some thought I'm sure I will come up with something.  I like the word 'trajectory' better than 'goals', 'ambitions', or the dreaded, 'resolutions'.  (Sounds so final, and defining and confining, that one). You may have ideas for my proposed trajectory.  Or not.  But regardless, I felt a word of poetry was in order, because it has such rich meaning, and a great message for us all.  And since I didn't write it, I can commend it to you: Sleepers, Awake These are the dangerous days Christmas elation is past ornaments now put away bells are no longer ringing carolers cease their singing clean snow slowly grays. These are the dangerous days as we turn from adoring the child to adding up income taxes  to writing thank-you letters no ...

There were a few things that I found troubling and disturbing.  One was the graphic nature of the incident.  The other was just the presence of police and flashing lights - these sent me back to 16 years ago in the hours following the burglary that launched our lives together.   (Here's the first part of THAT story :) ) The one difference is that I sensed no fear - there were no criminals in the immediate vicinity out to do no good to us specifically.  But the tragedy, the mess, the sadness, the unexpectedness of it all - these were a burden in and of themselves.  I'm trying to keep this past tense - to reflect on it and gain distance, for my own reasons. Back inside, we finally went to bed.  Throughout the previous couple hours we had been calm and engaged with those around us.  When our heads hit the pillow that calm somewhat vanished.  A sense of caffeine-rush washed over both of us.  We were awoken twice in the night - police checking ...

The man was friendly - shaking - and, to put your mind at ease, yes, there were police all over and I did not think twice about inviting him inside. The question has been posed to me: Did you really need to go out there?  Why didn't you just let the police do their work?  Why did you get involved?  Do you have a morbid curiosity that draws you into these things?  The answer to these isn't entirely clear to me.  No, I didn't 'need' to go out there.  Was I drawn by curiosity?  Yes, no doubt.  Is it morbid curiosity?  Maybe - I can't be sure.  I didn't exactly mean to get involved - or maybe I did.  I can't examine my own tendencies at this point.  I merely saw activity and wandered out there to be of service.  I didn't take the time to think it through and decide if it was the best thing to do at the time.  I guess these are things I'm not going to know fully, so I'll let the questions remain. Once inside I could s...

I'll admit it: blogging helps me process life, sometimes.  So, here I go - processing this past week. Our neighbourhood is very safe.  We enjoy a quiet, almost country-like feel where we live - our lawn has mature pine trees and we sit a bit back from the street, but not so far back we don't see what happens out there. Usually I am asleep at 11 p.m.  But a week ago we had a young friend over to stay the weekend.  She and I were up late chatting about general life stuff - you know how that is, I suppose. We noticed police lights outside.  Normally I wouldn't bother checking it out.  But there were multiple emergency vehicles - three police cars, then an ambulance.  A car was stopped at our corner and three people were standing there huddled in the cold, without coats.  I grabbed shoes, as I noticed a man lying on the lawn.  I didn't want to disturb Sam, but he awoke and I merely said, "I think there's a guy passed out or dead on our fro...

We know that in some sense, all of life is in one frame or another, an act of worship. It just depends what we are worshiping. While I hold to this concept, I do not want to minimize what Christians do when they gather together in order to corporately worship - solely focus their hearts, thoughts and being on the person of Christ, the greatness of God in the power of the Holy Spirit. This, I fear, is attempted often times, but often falls short of what it aspires to do. Why is this? I think habit can deaden the senses. No matter what the habit. Be it liturgy, dancing in the aisles, old worn hymnals... any habit can become boring. At the same time, the heart of the worshiper can be so moved by the familiar, by these habits. The heart can be engaged by both variety and by familiarity. So, regarding corporate worship gatherings I have an idea. And since cyberspace is where I toss my ideas and then run for cover (what a blessing!) here I go. Why not have a group - be it a Church...