Convert Man

Transformations #41: Daddy Date Day

2012-01-25T19:45:00.002-06:00

With my eldest daughters just on the cusp of puberty, I've decided to start a one-on-one date night with one of my kids per week. Next week I'll complete my second run through the five eldest kids. Michael, our four month old #6 child, is exempt for the time being but I'll include him soon enough.

It's nothing really bizarre that we do; we just pack a couple of board or card games, or colouring books for the real young ones, and head to the nearest Tim Horton's. I'll get a coffee and the kid will get a hot chocolate and a donut, and we'll play for an hour or so, making small talk and just enjoying the one-on-one time together, away from the bustle of an eight-person family.

I remember my dad doing a similar thing with us when we were teens, and wanted to implement the same idea with my kids. It's been a challenge to fit these Daddy Date Days into my hectic schedule, but it's already showing fruits, and the kids positively love going out with me. It's amazing to think of the influence I have over them as their father. I pray that I'm able to be the father God wants me to be to them.
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Busy, Busy, Dreadfully Busy

2011-09-18T00:45:00.000-05:00

I've got a lot going on these days. For starters, you can expect a birth announcement post in the next week or so - our sixth child is due Sep 24 and my wife is quite predictable when it comes to adhering to her due dates.

The school year has started again, which adds its own layer of complexity to our busy lives.

My insatiable lust for Star Wars and Star Trek novels has flared up again and I've consumed at least a dozen books in the last few months.

But the real project I'm devoting my time to is building some models to be used in our school's Atrium program, also known as the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd. This is a Montessori method of educating children about the truths and mysteries of our Christian faith. I've been buzzing about in my garage all summer, putting in anywhere from five to fifteen hours a week.

This work of mine corresponds nicely with what my wife has also done in the last year, as she was attending classes with the ultimate goal of becoming an Atrium instructor at some amorphous point in the future. So as she was learning about the Atrium lessons on a spiritual & academic level, I was learning about them on a functional level. We both surrounded our labours with prayer and took great delight in sharing perspectives with each other!

Here are a few photos of the projects I've done so far. You can click the photos to enlarge them.

Sheepfold - this is one of the first models the children are shown. The grass is a soft indoor/outdoor carpet. Figures of a shepherd and a flock of sheep are used to display how the shepherd guides the sheep into the sheepfold on the right, calling them each by name. The same lesson is applied, using the altar on the left circle, to show how Jesus calls us all to encounter him in the Mass.

Miniature Altar with Base - note the miniature lectern in the background as well. Using this model, the children are shown the vessels used during the Mass.

Cenacle (The Upper Room). This is the first project I did. It has an empty space below for storing the figures of Jesus and the Apostles. Someone else is making those. Children are shown a re-enactment of The Last Supper using this model.

Puzzle Map of Israel at the time of Jesus - this was my first foray into the amazing flexibility of coping saws. The pieces are cut from a pine blank, and it is backed with 1/4" plywood. After painting each piece I protected them with clear Varathane.

Topographical Map of Israel - this is the most challenging one I've yet completed. The heights are achieved through use of cardboard egg-carton paper mache and a few strategically placed blocks of wood. Most of the paint was sprayed on. The three flags represent the locations of Nazareth, Jerusalem, and Bethlehem. Children are taught the significant locations in salvation history using this model.

Jerusalem - this model, as you can see, is still a work in progress. It promises to be the most challenging one yet. I enlarged a topographical map of Jerusalem and traced the various heights onto nine pieces of hardboard, then cut them out and glued them together. Next, I'll be using Plaster of Paris to give the ground a smoother appearance (I built a small mock-up of some slopes so I could test this method, and was pleased with the result). After the ground is complete, I'll build the city walls and major buildings. They will be removable, so the most complicated part of this project will be building them to fit easily on the contours of the ground. This model is used to teach children about the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus. They are shown the key locations where Jesus was throughout Holy Week.

I'm also working on a model of Mary's home where the Annunciation occurred, but haven't taken any photos of that yet. Still on my to-do list is the Nativity model showing where Jesus was born, and a generic house used to demonstrate the parable of the Pearl of Great Price.

This is a very rewarding experience and I'm truly relishing the opportunity to use and develop the woodworking talent the Lord has given me. Plus, being a carpenter makes me just a little bit more like Jesus. :)
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Priorities

2011-09-02T10:38:00.002-05:00

I frequently admire the wit of the famous xkcd web comics. This one in particular really illustrates the polarization of modern society. It reflects the difference between people whose priorities are the accumulation of pointless wealth and people whose priorities are more focused around family. Very poignant.

source: http://xkcd.com/946/

Told

2011-07-19T08:55:00.001-05:00

The other day I was helping my four-year old wash her hands. After rinsing I playfully flicked my wet fingers into her face. She flinched, then frowned and scolded me: "Daddy, I don't like when you do that."

"Well, I like it," I said with a grin.

Confused, she replied, "Then why didn't you do it to yourself?"
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Why I Love Twitter

2011-07-13T12:36:00.002-05:00

For work recently, I had to find some replacement parts for a customer's barbecue. After some legwork I was able to find the required part numbers, and I assured our customer we would have them ordered and delivered to her. It wasn't a smooth process but it all worked out... I'll let the email thread below speak for itself:

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From: James
Sent: Monday, July 04, 2011 11:32 AM
Subject: Parts for Broil King Signet 20

Hello,

I need to order the following parts for a Broil King Signet 20 (9865-54):

10184-E78 DOOR - TOP CAP – LEFT

10184-E76 DOOR - BOTTOM CAP – LEFT

10184-E79 DOOR - TOP CAP - RIGHT

10184-E77 DOOR - BOTTOM CAP – RIGHT

What is the best way to place the order?

James

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From: Gordon
Sent: July 13, 2011 11:51 AM
Subject: RE: Parts for Broil King Signet 20

James,

The best way to order these parts is through us over the phone, simply call in at 1-800-265-2150 and talk to a representative in our office here. I created a file for you with the part numbers you provided, so simply reference your name and the information should come up and the rep you talk to can help you from there. I hope this helps!

Gordon
Customer Service Representative

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From: James
Sent: Wednesday, July 13, 2011 12:16 PM
Subject: Re: Parts for Broil King Signet 20

Gordon,

Thanks for getting back to me. I tried calling but was stuck on hold longer than I cared to wait, which was what prompted me to send the email. I also found Broil King on Twitter, and have talked to Rich through that channel. He has taken care of the order, so you can cancel the file you set up for me.

As a customer service rep myself, I must say I’m not impressed with the phone delays Broil King is having, and am even less impressed that it took nine days for anybody to respond to my email. Please let the powers that be know that I’m very impressed with Rich and the service he provided via Twitter though.

Regards,

James

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UPDATE: (at 3:48 PM, same day)

From: Gordon
Sent: Wednesday, July 13, 2011 1:36 PM
Subject: Re: Parts for Broil King Signet 20

James,

I’ve just been in contact with Emilie who I understand just left you a message asking if you had given your address to either Rich or myself. Emilie is taking care of sending out your parts but doesn’t have your address to send them to. If you could either call her back or just shoot me one last email and then we can take care of everything for you. I apologize for any delay and confusion and hope to help get this resolved as soon as we can. Thanks for understanding.

Gordon

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From: James
Sent: Wednesday, July 13, 2011 3:19 PM
Subject: Re: Parts for Broil King Signet 20

Gordon,

I got Emilie’s message – yes, I had provided my address to Rich and he was going to send the parts to me. As I said, Rich has taken care of the order, so you can cancel the file you set up for me. I don’t want to seem rude, but didn’t you or Emilie communicate with Rich before replying to & phoning me?

James

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From: Gordon
Sent: Wednesday, July 13, 2011 3:45 PM
Subject: Re: Parts for Broil King Signet 20

James,

We’re sorry there was this mixup, because Rich works separately from us in the customer service department it can get somewhat convoluted exchanging information when customers contact us through our several different inlets. We’re glad that this was able to be resolved however and hope these parts work well for you! Thanks, and sorry once again!

[emphasis added]

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Commentary: I appreciated the apology, but the inference within it is very unfortunate. I refused to wait on hold for 40 minutes to reach an agent, and when I had no response to my email a day later, I decided to use Twitter to try to reach somebody. But how am I to blame for their lack of internal communication? Do I even need to be told that? Businesses really underestimate the power of a simple, "We messed up and we're sorry." Besides, I don't need to hear the root causes of your confusion - that's for your managers to know.

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Update: July 20/11 - I've received the parts I ordered - twice as many as I ordered, actually, but since they sent them no charge I can't complain about that from a financial point of view (although their accountants probably can). The real kicker is that the replacement parts all broke during transport - even the surplus ones. That's right: the parts I ordered to replace broken ones were broken as well. I think there's an issue with quality of the plastic used, but they were also poorly packaged, which is obviously what caused the damage.

Again though, Broil King's Twitter guy, Rich, came to my rescue. I sent him a video showing the damage and he replied that he'd personally package a new set of parts and send them again.

It's not uncommon in the modern world to find products that break easily. And it's not uncommon to find companies too bound up in policies to provide decent customer service. For all the failings I encountered in Broil King's phone & email support team, I was impressed enough with their Twitter guy that I haven't lost confidence in the brand itself. That's a valuable lesson for any company to learn - one person can make a world of difference, plus or minus, for your brand's image. I only hope Broil King is smart enough to recognize the asset they have in Rich and that they compensate him well and start to clone him.
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Transformations #40: Biking To Work

2011-07-06T21:30:00.000-05:00

My steadfast readers will recall that I've been eating differently, starting back in November 2010.

I've stuck to it and have seen the pounds drop off - 46 lb lost, at my last weigh-in.

In addition to the new eating plan, I've recently added some exercise to my life (yes - every pound I've lost, except for the very last measurement, is due strictly to the change in my diet). Now that summer's finally here I've also decided not to buy bus passes for the next few months, until the weather turns cool. Instead I'll be taking my bicycle to work. Credit goes to our local Bike To Work Day, back on June 24, to get me kick-started in this. So far it's been great - it actually takes me less time than the bus ride takes, and I really enjoy not being bound by schedules, surrounded by smelly people, or stuck in traffic.

I'll also save the $76 monthly bus pass cost (although I do get about $11 of that back at income tax time), over what I expect will be the next three months.

Knowing that I've accomplished so much is a huge boost to my confidence too.
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My Ten Favourite Christian Songs: 10/10

2011-06-14T22:56:00.000-05:00

Time to finish off this list, folks.

Again, let me reiterate that the order of these songs is irrelevant - just like my kids, I love them all the same.

So without further ado, number ten is True Believer by Hokus Pick, a now-defunct Canadian band who were based out of Vancouver. I saw them in concert a few times, most recently around the year 1999, the year they stopped making new albums. I wore my Hokus Pick t-shirt, with their logo crammed into a Superman S-shape. After the concert, one of the band members looked at my shirt and commented, "Wow, that's a really old one." I bought one of their newer shirts after the concert, and I still have it today (hanging in my closet next to the Koo Crew one).

They are roughly comparable to The Barenaked Ladies in style, but happily they don't have an offensive band name. Their albums are heartfelt, yet vibrant and full of fun. Some elite musicians may scorn their compositions as amateurish, but as an amateur musician myself I very much appreciate being able to pick out the chords and play along.

To hear True Believer on iTunes, click that link and play the sample (track 8). Why not buy the whole album there and give these good Canadian boys a few cents? There's a hidden track at the end that's easily worth $10.

The lyrics are what I appreciate most about this song:

I'm not a rock.
Do I believe it not?
For I have denied the grace I've received by name
The saints of old chickened out when the rooster crowed
Still they were forgiven without consequence or blame

I'm trying, crying, denying
I wanna be a true believer
Giving up, running out, full of doubt,
But I wanna be a true believer

Songs like this give me a great assurance that no matter how hard I fall in my faith, the faithfulness of God is more powerful than any sin I can contrive. It's OK to be imperfect in my quest for holiness.
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Campaign Sign

2011-04-22T14:07:00.000-05:00

Generate your own Liberal lawnsign!

h/t SDA
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2011 Election, Families, and Twitter

2011-03-30T14:19:00.000-05:00

So we've got another election happening up here in the Great White North.

I'll say this once: Canadians have to stop complaining about elections. If you're sick of their frequency as of late (a complaint the Iranian people certainly don't have), then give the Tories a majority government for once so you can get in your four years of shut-eye.

The government spends $300,000,000 on elections, the pundits tell us, and Canadians don't want that. Pah. The government (no matter which party is in power) spends that much when it farts. Get over it. Show me a government that executes simple fiscal responsibility, such as, oh I don't know, NOT SPENDING MORE MONEY THAN IT HAS, and once that's in place then go ahead and complain about expensive things.

For all their faults, the Conservative Party is the closest we're going to get to that model of efficiency, so they've got my vote. This is no secret to anybody who knows me or reads my blog.

One of the not-faults of the Tories is their Universal Child Care Benefit, which pays families $100 per month per child under the age of five. That benefit was an election promise the last time we hit the polls, in contrast to the Liberal promise to establish free day care for everybody. As a father to five young children (soon to be six) who delights in his wife's desire to stay at home with the kids, I gotta tell ya, the Tory deal is a better one for us. Under the Liberal plan we would get nothing. Now, ideally, no government should be giving me money just because I've had some kids. But if I gotta choose between cash in my pocket that supports our lifestyle choice, or institutionalized child farming that condescendingly suggests the government would be better at forming our progeny, the choice is clear. I can't for the life of me figure out why the Liberals think that a one-size-fits-all childcare solution is appropriate for Canada.

The pundits are also saying that this election will be 'the social media election.' Not surprisingly, they're already oohing and ahhing over how wonderfully the also-ran parties are embracing it. They do have a point there. Part of Barack Obama's disastrous election win was due to his ability to engage young voters in an unprecedented fashion, and social media was a big part of that success. Fortunately for the Tories, Jack Layton and Elizabeth May don't have near the charisma that fooled so many Americans into thinking Obama knew what he was doing. But they're on the same low-charisma playing field with Prime Minister Harper and Michael Igantieff.

A 2010 analysis showed that about 2% of Canadians are active on Twitter. I'm one of them. From what I've seen in the #cdnpoli thread, most of that 2% are left leaning folks, which isn't surprising, since the main demographic that uses Twitter is, for the most part, too young to realize how left-leaning policies have a terrible historical track record.

Ultimately, I'm of the opinion that social media won't matter very much at all in this election. I predict that the mainstream media and the left leaning parties will vastly overestimate the importance of social media over the next few months. They'll burn up their ROI by spending too much time, effort, and money preaching their liberal agendas to the liberal choir, and the Tories will quietly win the race, slow and steady.

It will be fun to watch.
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My Ten Favourite Christian Songs: 9/10

2011-03-14T23:47:00.001-05:00

Something about David Mullen's music has always resonated with me. He's a gritty, no-frills soul rocker, and his lyrics continually twist and turn in, out, through, and between complexity and simplicity. The man is a true artist.

One of my favourite songs is Functional Faith And Clothing, from his 1991 Faded Blues album. It's short - 88 seconds long - and so the only clip I could find online is actually a good chunk of the song. If you find it on iTunes it's easily worth the $0.99. Yes, the penny-to-second ratio is less than 1, so it might not seem like a good deal, but it's such an amazing & simple little song I can't see how you'd regret the decision.

Here are the lyrics:

Me and my jeans, we fit together most naturally
Me and purity, should fit together as easily.
You do what you, I don't care
When it comes to faith and clothing I need something I can wear.
I need functional faith and clothing (repeat this line a bunch of times)

The fun thing about this song is the beatbox/scat with which he opens and closes the song, in tune with his guitar picking. Percussion is a simple djembe flitting around the guitar's rhythm. The melody is charming yet covers a broad range, and he puts his whole heart into blasting it out.

Simply brilliant.
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Transformations #39: The Tweetup

2011-03-11T00:06:00.001-06:00

If you've noticed, on the side of my blog is my Twitter feed. I trust you're all monitoring it ceaselessly and are enjoying the hilarity ensuing therein.

Ahem.

One of the things I've come to love about Twitter is how I can connect with people that I never would have connected with before. Some may argue that a connection of 140 characters is of dubious worth, and indeed many Twitter experiences lack value. But some do, and the ones that do, really do. And I'm not just talking about opportunities for business growth here. At the other end of each tweet is a real person, and many of them are very interesting.

Over the past year, I've built digital friendships with a number of other Winnipegers who are using Twitter for work, like I do. These people are usually representing the face of their company or employer on the various social media channels, also like I do. One of them, Matthew Shepherd, organized a tweetup for March 9. A tweetup is basically a chance for Twitter users to meet up with each other in real life. I wanted to go and have a chance to meet some of these interesting people face to face.

The only problem is, I'm an introvert, and being in a crowd really drains me - especially when it's all strangers. My wife, in God's idea of irony, is a roaring extrovert. This disparity really caused a lot of difficulty early in our relationship ("I want to go out." "I want to stay in!" and back and forth like that), although we've reached a healthier balance now. Now when we go out together, I consider myself lucky just to be able to be out with her (having five kids will do that). Not only do I enjoy her company more than I ever have, but she grounds me when an environment is outside of my comfort zone. She is my rock.

So here's the transforming moment: I went out to a venue I've never been to before (Tavern United), I didn't know a soul there, and my sole source of social strength - my wife - wasn't with me. Talk about taking the forceps to one's comfort zone.

Only twice before in my life have I voluntarily and without a driving reason put myself in a completely foreign situation like that. The first was when I toured with The Challenge Team in the late 1990's, and the second was when I joined Toastmasters. Both of those choices have resulted in amazing life experiences for me, and so I'm confident that good things will come out of this tweetup and the ones to come in the future.
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My Ten Favourite Christian Songs: 8/10

2011-02-22T23:13:00.001-06:00

I can't list my favourite Christian artists without including at least one who has, like myself, migrated to Rome. John Michael Talbot's biography does more justice in and of itself than I can in a summary, and you should read it - it's well written.

As with most of my music, the one album of his I have dates from the mid-1990s. I remember when I bought it. I was living in Ottawa at the time, and still not yet formally received into the Church, although I had begun the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults. I wanted to add something Catholic to my music collection, so I found a Christian book & music store and asked them if they had anything like monastic chanting. The closest they had, the lady explained, was this monk who plays guitar. I took a chance and bought the CD. It was "Troubadour For The Lord."

Many songs on this compilation resonate with me, but his rendition of Psalm 131 stands out as unique for its pure simplicity. There is no harmony and sparse accompaniment; a chorus of male voices repeats the same melody (lifted from true monastic life, I've no doubt) throughout the short psalm. Considering the lyrics, the simplistic approach is perfect for the arrangement:

Unless you acquire the heart of a child
You cannot enter the kingdom of God
O Lord my heart is not proud
Nor haughty my hands
I have not gone after things too big
Nor marvels beyond me
Truly I have set my soul in silence and peace
As a child has rest in its mother arms
Even so my soul
O Israel hope in the Lord
Both now and forever
Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit
As it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever, amen.

To listen to a sample of this song, click the Troubadour link above. It's track #16 and you can hear 30 seconds of it there.
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"I Know One!"

2011-02-22T22:40:00.000-06:00

My boss shared something with me the other day that made me both proud (in a humble way) and ashamed (in a collective way) to be Catholic.

As a learned Christian man, he does some part-time teaching at a local Protestant Bible college. He told me that one of the classroom discussions led itself into a discussion of the Catholic Church, and one young lady commented how Catholics are all lost and have no personal love for Jesus. He challenged her on that statement, asking the class if any of them knew Catholics who didn't fit that description. A lot of blank stares were passed around the room, until another young lady, by chance my boss' niece and also a coworker of mine, said, "I know one."

"Who are you thinking of?" he asked her.

"James," she replied.

"I was thinking of him too," he said. He told them a bit about my conversion story and how my living faith is evident in my life. He then warned the group that it's not fair to characterize one group of people by the actions of any of them, and a whole different discussion morphed out of that.

I was taken aback by this when he shared it with me. Little old me arising as a sign of contradiction, in contrast to the way Protestants perceive Catholics! I know these misconceptions well; I held them dearly once myself.

Indeed, I can identify with the words of G.K. Chesterton, another convert, who wrote, "When a man really sees the Church, even if he dislikes what he sees, he does not see what he had expected to dislike. Even if he wants to slay it he is no longer able to slander it.... There drops from him the holy armor of his invincible ignorance; he can never be so stupid again." Once I learned what I learned, I couldn't unlearn it, and for better or for worse I had to keep going.

Anyway, as my boss shared this tale with me, I struggled with a surge of pride, as would only be natural to any man in such a situation. But as I pondered it more and more, my pride slowly migrated toward shame. I'm not an amazing Catholic, really. Just a normal one. I still sin, I'm not always filled with sublime joy when approaching the Mass, and I get angry at my kids. So instead of me standing out because I'm awesome, instead I stood out because the rest of the Catholics these young Christians know are so... unchristian. They don't seem any different than the pot smoking neighbours, or the cursing motorist, or the irate customer. In many cases, these people are Catholic, and the backdrop to many a middle finger is a rosary dangling from a rear-view mirror. That's what other Christians know as Catholicism.

Now, I know many Catholics who live a spirit-filled, vibrant faith. Their love for Jesus can't be denied. Most of them accept the hidden glories - the poopy diapers, the late night shifts in the adoration chapel, the echos of prayers whispered in quiet prayer corners. These indeed are praiseworthy, and more Catholics would do well to follow these examples of selfless love.

But my heart cries out for my estranged Protestant brethren, and I long to see them witness the same Truth which was revealed to me. I suggest that every authentic Catholic should make at least one Protestant friend, and be willing to engage him or her in a frank discussion on the issues that separate them.

Maybe then my coworker won't be the only person in that classroom of young Protestants who can say, "I know one!"
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Big Dipper Science Project

2011-02-11T09:14:00.002-06:00

For her grade five science project, my daughter decided to take a look at the Big Dipper from a different angle. I had been discussing with my kids how constellations only look like they do for us because of where the various stars are in relation to Earth. To help them understand, I had put three beads on threads and hung them from the kitchen ceiling. I arranged them so that from one angle you saw them in a straight line, and from another angle they formed an equilateral triangle.

That little teaching moment blossomed into this science project. We discovered that the seven stars in the Big Dipper range from 78 to 124 light years distant from Earth. Through trial and error, we scaled that down to 0.8 cm per light year, and came up with this model. Shown here are the 'front' view, from Earth, and the view from the 'right side.' If you were plotting a course on the USS Enterprise, that would be bearing 45, mark 0, at warp factor nine for about 34 days - a distance of around 140 light years (we didn't put the Star Trek trivia in the project though).

This was a fun and educational project, both for me and for my daughter.

Pale Blue Dot

2011-01-18T21:44:00.000-06:00

I stumbled across this image the other day on a blog called "a simple prop."

It's a photograph of the planet Earth, snapped by the Voyager in 1980 on its way out of our solar system (still within a razor's edge, astronomically speaking). Astronomer Carl Sagan famously commented on the ramifications of the perspective this photo brings:

Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every ‘superstar,’ every ‘supreme leader,’ every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there — on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.

I've pondered the significance of our place in the cosmos many times; I even found a prior blog post on the subject. It's entirely true that the scale of our planet to the others in our solar system, and that of our massive sun to the majority of its stellar neighbours, is minuscule. It's also true that the distances between stellar systems make even the superlative sizes of Betelgeuse and Antares seem like specks.

But I take issue with Sagan's belief that humanity has no privileged place in the universe. I don't consider the vastness around us to be a sign that the odds are against God reaching out and encountering us. I rather consider his revelation to be all the more miraculous. Looking at the minute nature of our world compared to the rest of the universe can spawn one of two reactions: we are either very fortunate (i.e.fate thrust upon us with no guiding force) to have had our primordial ancestral soup be in the right place at the right time, or we are very blessed (i.e. a benevolent, involved creator immeasurably beyond our comprehension) to have had our primordial ancestral soup be in the right place at the right time.

I can't imagine going through life thinking that life itself is a giant series of coincidences, like the final destination of a Plinko disc. Far better to grasp the extended hand of God and embrace the infinite mystery of his love.
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My Ten Favourite Christian Songs: 7/10

2011-01-16T17:39:00.001-06:00

This Christian musician is probably the most obscure of my favourites, even taking into account my affinity for Rick Cua. He is also the most recent addition to my list of favourites.

He is Mark Mallett, a small-town boy who grew up to marry and have eight kids (so far). I was first introduced to his music when I sang with the worship team at St. Mary's Church when we lived in Ottawa about ten years ago - our worship leader had attended John Paul II Bible School with Mark in Radway, Alberta. Just a few years ago, I met him in person at a small Christian music festival called "Rock The Grott" in St. Malo, Manitoba. I purchased some albums and a songbook, and was drawn to his prayerful worship style.

One of my favourite songs is Let The Lord Know (follow the link to listen to a snippet of the song). It's got a catchy tune, and the lyrics are based around the seven sacraments in the Catholic Church, which I thought was very clever. If you like it, you can purchase it from Mark Mallett's website.

I'd highly recommend it, if for no other reason than he's a professional Catholic musician from Saskatchewan. His wife told a joke at Rock The Grott: What's the difference between an professional Catholic musician and two extra large pizzas? Two extra large pizzas can feed a family of ten.
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My Ten Favourite Christian Songs: 6/10

2010-12-31T10:59:00.000-06:00

The Newsboys are among Christendom's most amazing performers. I've never been to a concert, but I know several people who have, and they all say they've never seen a concert like a Newsboys one.

Founded in 1985, they've been around the block a few times. They have over a dozen studio albums released, as well as several singles and one compilation. As with most of my music, I stopped collecting Newsboys releases in the late 90's so I'm quite out of touch with their later work. This may be something I have to rectify.

Their lyrics are deeply insightful and superbly constructed. I think of the perpetual play on words which goes on through the title track (link is to the very creative music video) for the 1996 album Take Me To Your Leader:

Justin is adjusting to the odor from Theodore's evergreen incense
But aromatherapy don't make him any younger than Oliver's All Liver Supplements
His late mate Marilee merrily said immortality can't be bought in a jar
This just in - Justin's had enough of cure-alls, gonna quiz the neighbor kid with the fish on his car.

You have to say those words out loud to get the puns. The odor & Theodore, Oliver & all liver... etc.

As neat as that song is, however, the one song that blows me away every time I hear it is Lost the Plot from the same album. The rhythm is a pounding, driven expression of the heart's intrinsic anguish when lacking intimacy with Christ. The lyrics are a conversation with God which reveals just how mediocre, hypocritical, and slothful the believer has become. It's a real guilt trip - the healthy kind - and it serves as a wake-up call to all believers. The first two lines sum it up:

When you come back again,
Would you bring me something from the fridge?

Here's the whole tune. Crank it up:

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Ornaments

2010-12-14T23:20:00.000-06:00

My Ten Favourite Christian Songs: 5/10

2010-12-14T21:00:00.000-06:00

One cannot be a fan of Christian rock from the latter two decades of the 20th Century without having Petra somewhere in the list. As I mentioned in the initial post on my favourite Christian music, Petra was the first album I ever bought.

Their style has consistently been rock, with a strong theme of spiritual warfare. They make heavy use of the Scriptures in their lyrics, and seemed to have a limitless imagination for plays on words. They rendered Caesar's famous quote, "Veni, vidi, vici" (I came, I saw, I conquered) into a song about Jesus called, "He Came, He Saw, He Conquered." I was stunned when I first heard the title to "Killing My Old Man" until a friend (thank you Christa!) explained that it was a reference to the sinful man who dies in baptism, to be reborn anew with Christ in the resurrection. And when they released their first praise & worship album - Petra Praise: The Rock Cries Out - they played heavily on the fact that Petra is the Greek rendition of rock, and the passage in Luke 19:40 where Jesus responded to those who told his disciples to stop praising him that "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out."

All of my Petra music is on cassette tape, with the exception of their God Fixation album, which I bought on CD and is the most recent one I have. I did have an LP of Greg Volz, who was Petra's original lead vocalist but left the band to start a solo career.

His replacement, John Schlitt, did a concert of some of Petra's best hits in Caronport, SK on January 16, 1991, and that was the first concert I ever went to (the date stuck in my head because it was at the beginning of the first Gulf War). He performed by himself, using recorded tracks of the band's music. I remember how puzzled Schlitt was when the audience demanded an encore, as he hadn't prepared anything. So he simply did the first song in the set over again.

With my journey to Catholicism and discovery of the fathers of the ancient Church, I was naturally drawn to Petra's song "St. Augustine's Pears." It's taken from a passage in St. Augustine's Confessions (which I must confess I've never read) where he recounts how he stole pears from a tree for no other reason than that he could. St. Augustine used that incident from his past to open a vast meditation on the nature of sin in his heart.

I also enjoy this song because of a neat trick they did with dual guitars and stereo channels in the intro. Crank the volume and make sure you're listening in stereo. The effect is magnified if you're wearing headphones.

Here it is - enjoy.

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Transformations #38: What Our Ears Tell Us About How To Live Our Lives

2010-11-19T16:44:00.001-06:00

Twitter Protocol Observations

2010-11-17T13:53:00.001-06:00

For the past few months I've been delving into the complex and chaotic foray of Twitter. It's been fascinating watching this relatively new online community evolve, and I've gradually come to my own understanding of how to do Twitter well.

One thing I've observed is that there are four types of Twitter users:

Type 1: The novice who isn't really sure what to do
Type 2: The casual user who posts things whenever the mood hits, hoping somebody will reply
Type 3: The seasoned user who regularly reaches out and listens to a broad spectrum of people
Type 4: Spammers who seem to think everybody is just dying to click their links (#doingitwrong)

Right now, I consider myself progressing from a Type 2 to a Type 3. This post is addressed to Types 1 and 2, and to a lesser extent to Type 4.

These are some of the guidelines that I've seen the Type 3's out there adhere to, whether it's instinctive or planned.

First and foremost, be real. Your profile should be a short summary of what interests and/or motivates you. And don't automate your tweets. Compose all your replies and direct messages personally. People can smell a robot.
Use your face as your avatar. By default, Twitter assigns a monochrome egg as your profile picture. If you haven't removed that within a week of signing up (at most), you have no business using the service. Nobody will take you seriously. If you don't want your face online, delete your Twitter account.
Be clever. When you get a laugh out of people, the trust and interaction factors skyrocket. If you're not naturally clever, then tell a joke. Anybody can tell a joke.
Be brief. Twitter forces you to keep your comments to 140 characters. You can get third party tools that allow you to extend this limit. Don't do it. Learn to fit in the frame. If you have more to say, start a blog.
Ask questions. Few people will interact with tweets like, "I love my new shoes!" It's because there's nothing left to say. Most people (including you) are an expert or at least very knowledgeable about something. Use that fact to your advantage. For example: rephrase the tweet to say, "Love my new shoes. What do you look for in a shoe?" You then open the door for two things to happen. Twitter users of all types love to demonstrate their knowledge or give their opinions. Either somebody will reply with an answer like style, price, comfort, etc, or somebody will find a joke waiting to be told and respond with, "A foot!" See point #3.
Don't link your networks. Most social media networks allow you to link your posts from one to the other, so that people who follow you on one and not the other can get all your content, streamed word-for-word, from channel to channel. There are two problems with this. First, you have different types of people on your different networks. Content on one is rarely relevant to content on another, unless you specifically design it to be so. Second, it's lazy, and people will notice. I lose a bit of respect for individuals and companies whose various social networks are just a bunch of echoes of stuff they've already told me.
Use hooks. There's a lot of chatter on the Twitterverse. Most of it is white noise from types 1, 2, and 4. Type 3 users know how to make you want to click their links. Sometimes it's a simple as announcing a contest. Other times you have to be more creative. Again, rely on point #3 for help in this regard.
Tap into your eclectic nature. That's a rarely used word, but it means to have a broad range of tastes and interests. My profile states that I like, among other things, Nerf and Toastmasters. [update Jan 15/11 - it now points to my about.me page, which lets me be a little more detailed.] Use hashtags (the # symbol followed by a word) to search Twitter for a particular topic or theme. Seek out the official Twitter IDs for the brands you like, and for users who talk about things you like, and follow them. But first, see point 9.
Be discerning in who you follow. When my interest in a person or company is tweaked by something I see re-tweeted or a notification that I'm being followed, I review their past few tweets (including the dates of the tweets) to see which of the four types they are. If it's a Type 4, I never follow. If it's a Type 3 (i.e. a good mix of recent original tweets, retweets, and @replies) that displays a common interest, I definitely do follow. If it's a Type 1 or 2, it's a judgement call each time. Remember, quality is more important than quantity. Also, look at the number of followers they have compared to the number they follow and the number of tweets they've posted. You'll start to see patterns in these ratios that will reveal which of the four types they are.
Be proper. Avoid profanity. Use correct spelling, sentence structure, and grammar (but feel free to save a character but putting only one space between sentences instead of two). I'm impressed that after a decade of instant messaging, this indication of sophistication and education has survived.

As I said, these are some of my observations of what the Type 3s are doing. While I'm hardly the first guy to try to build this list, I find it fascinating how the unregulated Twitter community has spawned this emergence of commonly accepted protocols. If you're a Type 1 or 2, you won't go wrong these insights. If you're a Type 3, let me know if I've accurately tagged your secrets, or if there's anything you would add to this list.

If you're a Type 4, don't bother commenting - I'll just delete it.
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Shelley Glover and the Clerical Error

2010-11-10T15:15:00.001-06:00

Whoops!

Today I received three emails from Michel Trudel, an office staff member for my Member of Parliament, Shelley Glover.

The first email was a newsletter. Nothing unusual there.

The second email was a note saying that "Please note that I have made a mistake on sending out old versions of the E-Newsletter. Please see the attached for correct copies. Sorry for the any problems or confusing I have caused. Thanks." There's some poor grammar there, but that's par for the course with emails these days [disappointed sigh].

And yes indeed, the updated version of the newsletter has been tweaked a bit. Again, I would normally not have an issue at this point.

The third email, however, demonstrated a lack of technical competence on the part of the user. The contents said merely,

Glover, Shelly - Assistant 2 would like to recall the message, "".

The worst part is that the third message was addressed - non-BCC - to all of Shelley Glover's newsletter subscribers - 1181 of them, to be precise. An unscrupulous subscriber could really go to town with that list, and it's likely that somewhere in that 1181 there are a few spies for political & ideological opponents.

I've deleted that message from my inbox.

But first, for fun I whipped up a chart showing which email providers her subscribers use.

I've voted for Shelley Glover, and I've got nothing against Michel Trudel. I certainly hope he learns a lesson here.

What do you think? Is an error like this in a federal official's office worth dismissal?
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Transformations #37: Movember, Cancer, & Sugar

2010-11-08T23:29:00.001-06:00

Day 9 for the Flavour Saver

I'm officially going ahead with it. The results of my poll came back with about 2/3 of votes for the moustache.

By the way, what's up with the weird American spelling of moustache? They spell it m-u-s-t-a-c-h-e, without the "o". We Canadians spell it the proper way, just like harbour, neighbour, colour, and splendour. But on those words, the Yankees dropped the "u." Why the "o" this time? Just trying to mix it up a little?

The Movember initiative is designed to help awareness of prostate cancer, as well as funds for research.

From what I've seen & read though, the need for more research is minimal, as existing studies are very clear. All cancers thrive on sugar, especially refined sugars present in processed foods and drinks. Remove the sugar from your diet, and your risk of cancer plummets. Additionally, your body can start to heal any cancerous growths already present.

The typical Western diet is full of sugar. It's no coincidence that cancer rates have skyrocketed as our diets have changed over the decades. So instead of raising funds for research, I'll be trying to promote awareness in a different way. I'm removing sugar from my diet. And before anyone thinks I'm insensitive towards cancer victims, know that I, like most people, have lost dear friends and family members to this disease. My hope and prayer is that society can grasp the hard lessons out there and end this disease once and for all. I firmly believe that the long term solution to cancer will not be found in drug or chemical treatments, but in lifestyle choices.

I should note, in all fairness, that this change in my diet was my wife's idea and her one condition of me growing the moustache. She also has a vested interest in seeing me lose a few pounds.

It's amazing how many items have sugar in them. If you didn't know, any of the additives on an ingredient list that end in "ose" are refined sugar - dextrose, sucrose, glucose - and it's hidden under other names too. I've really got to have a keen eye to catch them all. It's much easier just to eat nuts, sauce-less meats, lots of vegetables, and hunks of cheese.

The transformative part of this experience for me is the self control it takes to avoid the chocolate bars and chips - especially in a house crammed full of Halloween candy. Right now I'm snacking on almonds as I write this. My wife made me a blueberry smoothie for an after-supper snack, including yogurt, coconut milk, and avocado. Delicious, and without a molecule of refined sugar. The body, I'm told, takes about a week to restructure its digestive processes to burn fats instead of sugar. So far I've doing this for five days (I got a head start with the moustache). I can feel my body craving the other stuff I used to eat, and I'm amazed how easy it has been so far to resist.

Stick around - I'll post more Movember pics, and will give updates from time to time on how the sugar purge is going.

Nov 30 UPDATE: I compiled a video of the photos I took throughout the month:

The sugarless diet is going really well. My wife is incredibly supportive and has kept me well fed with lots of healthy food, and I'm definitely noticing an increase in my energy level. I want to keep eating like this; it tastes better and I don't feel guilty about what I eat. It's more difficult, yes, but ultimately it's more rewarding.

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Responsibility Lessons & New Directions

2010-11-06T00:18:00.000-05:00

My Ten Favourite Christian Songs: 4/10

2010-11-02T22:10:00.000-05:00

Rich Mullins was an icon and trendsetter in the Christian music scene. He was killed in a tragic car accident in 1997. I have a special affinity for him because he too was drawn to the Catholic Church after a lifetime of living as an evangelical Christian, although his death interrupted the formal completion of his journey to Rome.

As with many of my favourite musicians, there are a host of songs I could reference. But I'm going to go with Sometimes By Step, as there is one lyric within it that really resonates with me.

Sometimes I think of Abraham
How one star he saw was lit for me
He was a stranger in this land
And I am that no less than he...

Poll: Should I a grow a moustache to promote prostate cancer awareness?

2010-11-02T14:20:00.003-05:00

Online Surveys & Market Research

Guest Blog Post

2010-10-29T09:55:00.000-05:00

I've done my first ever guest blog post!

My boss, William J Cole, AKA Bill, has turned into my friend over the last two years. He's a fellow man of faith, has a passion for social media, and is a solid businessman. When he asked me if I'd be willing to do a short video blog posting for him, I immediately agreed.

Head over to his blog and watch, "Standing Out: Lessons From A Light."
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My Ten Favourite Christian Songs: 3/10

2010-10-13T22:09:00.000-05:00

There is no way I could compile a list of my favourite Christian songs without including something by Rick Cua (note that a song will play when you visit that link). He's a niche artist without broad appeal in Christendom, but he definitely found his niche with me and my quirky ilk. He's a true rocker and really pounds the bass line out, and the weaker of his albums were the ones where he tried to soften his style for who knows what reason.

I was and remain a huge fan. I'm even a member of the original Koo Crew and have the t-shirt to prove it. Sadly, it has shrunk so I can no longer wear it. Ahem.

I remember reading that when he was first developing an interest in music, he started learning guitar. But his dad told him that if he wanted to ensure he always had a music job, he would do well to master the bass guitar, as every musician and his dog wants to play guitar or drums, and they'll all need a bass player if they want to form a band. He took his dad's advice and landed a gig with the Outlaws in 1980, a southern rock band. He left them three years later and launched his own self-named group. His album "Midnight Sun" was the second one I ever purchased, and he is the only musician for whom I have collected every album. I've had his music on his LPs, cassettes, and the last two releases on CD.

Also he was born in the same year as my dad. That's bizarre.

The content of his music relies heavily on the theme of "Help me God!" - yet another niche he has filled, for this world is replete with people who need help and encouragement. I could easily pick some faves from across the decades, such as I Can I Will, Help Me Out, Won't Fade Away, or Be God, but after much deliberation (and a last minute change of mind) I'm going to go with 1992's Be A Man. Lyric sample:

When his disciples got up and ran
He walked alone on the road to be a man
His body broken, blood on the sand
Still he got up, got to be a man
The drove a spike right through his hand
He could have walked but he had to be a man
You wanna grow up? Well here's the plan:
Let the Lord teach you how to be a man.

You gotta hear this one.

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My Ten Favourite Christian Songs: 2/10

2010-10-12T21:50:00.000-05:00

Next up in my list of my top ten favourite Christian songs was a piece written by Steve Schellenberg. My wife and his wife are friends through his wife's sister, and he graciously helped me pick out a guitar when I first learned to play. Within this top ten list, he is the only artist whom I actually know.

His music is folksy, airy, and imbued with poetic, whimsical lyrics. It's difficult to pick just one of his songs, but the one I selected is Cold, Cold Wind. He performed this song on a show the CBC put on a few years back. It's all about welcoming strangers into your home when they are in need, and that gift of hospitality has been poured on my wife and I in spades. We are constantly entertaining guests, so it's little wonder that this song resonates with me so much.

For the tune go to this link and play track 13. A sampling of the lyrics:

I heard somebody knocking at my front door
What ya gonna do when the cold wind blows?
Well I think we got some room for maybe just one more
So won't you come in, yeah you better come in
Get a little shelter from the cold, cold wind
There's a lot of people walking this world alone
What you gonna do when the cold wind blows?
Well they got no family, maybe got no homes
So won't you come in, yeah you better come in
Get a little shelter from the cold, cold wind.

This tune is a prime example of the Gospel in action. Jesus told us that on the last day he would judge his disciples by whether or not they had fed him when he was hungry, clothed him when he was naked, visited him when he was sick - and revealed that whatever we do to the least of our brothers and sisters on this world, we do unto him. That's a tall order, and the song reminds me of this holy obligation to recognize the divine dignity inherent in all my fellow travelers on life's road.
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My Ten Favourite Christian Songs: 1/10

2010-10-11T14:20:00.000-05:00

Being raised in an evangelical home, I was surrounded by the Christian music my parents had collected. As I grew older I started looking at the years these albums were released, and I noticed that around the time of my birth, my parents had stopped purchasing music. I asked them about it one time, and they didn't have a clear answer, saying something vague about how it just wasn't a priority any more.

We are a musical family, so I didn't understand how that could be, until I started having kids myself and saw the same thing happen with my music collection.

I was about sixteen when I purchased my first cassette tape with the money from my paper route: it was a collection of Petra's greatest hits entitled, "Petra Means Rock." Tentatively I showed it to my parents, fearful of what their reaction would be. Rock music was something they simply did not have in their collection - even Christian rock - and while I was branching out in my own direction, I was uncertain how they would respond. They didn't react at all, which pleased me: I had been worried that they would insist I take it back.

And so my journey began. My wife constantly pokes fun at me, since most of my music is from the Holy Decade of Christian Rock - the 1980s. But I still enjoy it all, although I have updated my collection with a few newer albums too.

A couple of days ago I compiled a playlist of ten songs that resonate with me, and burned it to a CD so I could listen to it in our non-iTunes compatible minivan. Over the next few series of posts I will share these songs here. Note that the order these are posted in is not reflective of where the songs rank.

So without further ado, here is number 1: Nothing Can Take This Love, by Whiteheart, 1982. Steve Green, who later went on to a more subdued musical solo style, is the lead singer on this penultimate album of one of the earliest Christian Rock groups.

This song has a sharp, pounding bass line, tightly chorded piano, and a chorus which builds to a tingle-inducing crescendo. A sample of the lyrics:

Only you could have changed me, sent the clouds from my eyes
Now I see things in a different way, since I gave my life to you
Now I know the love I'll never lose, never lose
'Cause you gave all you had for me
You gave all you had for me
You gave all you had for me
Nothing can take this love, nothing can take this love from me
Nothing can take this love - no!

The tune itself is catchy and I love the fact that the verses don't rhyme and yet still flow smoothly. The lyrics themselves resonate with me, as in all of these songs, because of their truth and relevance to the life I've lived and the love I've known.
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Transformations #36: How New Is New?

2010-10-05T22:41:00.000-05:00

During my time in the adoration chapel last night, the Lord drew me to the Luke 5:36-39.

He told them this parable: "No one tears a patch from a new garment and sews it on an old one. If he does, he will have torn the new garment, and the patch from the new will not match the old. And no one pours new wine into old wineskins. If he does, the new wine will burst the skins, the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. No, new wine must be poured into new wineskins. And no one after drinking old wine wants the new, for he says, 'The old is better.' "

He challenged me to answer this question: Has my heart grown old? Am I stuck on the old wine?

I run into this concept at work all the time, as I try to explain the concepts of Twitter & blogging to some of my older colleagues who are nearing retirement. Many of them are quite open to this type of change in the world of business, but a handful are the stereotypical crotchety old men who can't see why anybody has to do anything different. It's ironic: when the fax machine first came out, these men were at the forefront of the new technology. Same thing when early computer-based word processing software came out - they jumped right on the technology bandwagon and left their previous generation in the dust in terms of squeezing more hours out of their workday. But an amazing thing happened: they got used to the new things, and before long they weren't new anymore. Suddenly the fax machine is archaic, and being able to increase your font size in MS Word doesn't leave your coworkers gawking in astonishment.

But I see this same trait in myself. When I first learned my MS Excel skills, it was on Excel 97. I have Excel 2007 at home, and it's chock full of new features that weren't around when I cut my teeth on it. Like that new Office Clipboard that lets you copy multiple chunks of data into memory simultaneously and paste them individually at your leisure - it annoys me and I've disabled the feature, because I am used to the copy-and-paste-one-at-a-time method. So I find myself stuck in an old rut when there is a new and more efficient method. I just don't have the desire to learn to use it. Just like a crotchety old man who doesn't give two cents about Twitter.

Similarly, my decision to surrender my life to Christ is not, chronologically speaking, a new thing any more. Naturally, at the moment of my rebirth I was made new, as I Cor. 6:17 says, "If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" This is what the Lord challenged me with last night. The theme of this entire blog - Be Transformed - is derived from Romans 12:2: "Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will." Renewing is an active, current verb and implies continuity.

I'm also reminded of Lamentations 3:22-23, which says of the Lord, "His mercies never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." If the Lord gives me new mercies every day, then I should be renewed every day. I am learning that my rebirth in Christ was not a single event, but is a lifelong journey. If I stop moving, stop growing, stop receiving his mercies, stop being transformed, then I am stagnant and dying. G.K. Chesterton said, "A dead thing can go with the stream, but only a living thing can go against it."

Lord, show me your new mercies tomorrow morning; help me to swim upstream.

And starting tomorrow, I'm going to figure out that multiple clipboard thing in MS Office.
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Promises, Promises

2010-09-29T11:18:00.000-05:00

For those of you who don't know, I work for a moving company, helping to plan moves, resolving claims, sending quality surveys, managing the social media channels, etc. My title is Customer Relations Coordinator. [Shameless plug - if you're moving and want it done right, feel free to send me an email. I can give some free advice or can have one of our moving consultants contact you to provide an estimate. And it doesn't matter where you live - we're well networked and can probably recommend somebody local to help you.]

For the past couple of weeks I've been trying to get in touch with a firm with whom we did some business in the US. We contracted this company, an automobile hauler, to move a large boat trailer for one of our customers, as it wouldn't fit on our tractor trailer unit. They did move it, but in order to attach the trailer to their truck, they needed to improvise the trailer's connections to the extent that the hydraulic brake fluid for the trailer leaked out, depressurizing the whole system. When our customer received the boat trailer and realized what had happened, he took it to a dealer who re-pressurized & resealed the brake system at a cost of $155. Naturally, this expense should have gone to the auto hauler, as it was their fumbling that caused the problem in the first place. Whether or not it was a necessary problem, I don't know. But ultimately, the customer should not have been saddled with the cost.

We asked the hauler to send a cheque to our customer in compensation. This is where this post's title comes into play. After a bit of a runaround, I was referred to Julie in their claims department. I emailed her on Sep 7, and followed it up with a phone call on Sep 10, asking her to send a cheque and to let us know when it was done. Her voicemail greeting is fairly standard, but it ends with something unique: "I will call you back by the end of the business day." That emphasis is hers.

I thought that promise was impressive, but seeing as she hadn't responded to my email from three business days earlier, I was skeptical. I waited until the following Monday, Sep 13, and still having received no response at that point, for the sake of our customer we decided to send him a cheque ourselves. We didn't want him to be the one stuck waiting for a reply from the auto hauler.

To this date I have never actually spoken to or received an email from Julie. I left another message for her on Sep 21 letting her know that we had sent the cheque ourselves and that we are expecting them to reimburse our company directly.

My only complaint here is that unfulfilled voicemail promise: "I will call you back by the end of the business day." Most companies out there, in my experience, provide mediocre follow-up as a matter of course. I've come to expect that as a norm. Very rarely can you find a person or a company to whom you can assign a task and expect it to be done without at least one reminder. I'm blessed to have a good collection of coworkers who are exceptions to this rule (although everybody has their off days). But for third parties, I've grown accustomed to following up on all the requests I make to other people and companies with whom I work.

So if that line hadn't been there on Julie's voicemail greeting, it would have no cause to complain. Following up with our auto hauler for this cheque would have been just another item on my to-do list, and I wouldn't have thought any less of them. This would have been just another mediocre firm with whom we had to do business because there were no better alternatives. But Julie led me to believe that she and her company were better than that. With one email and two phone messages unanswered, she's proven they're not, and I'm reluctant to send any more work their way in the future.

The moral of the story: don't make a promise that you can't keep. People notice.
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Transformations #35

2010-09-24T14:07:00.000-05:00

In the past few months, as I mentioned before, I've been reading a lot of Star Wars novels. Eighteen of them, to be precise. I've got two left in the series I'm currently in, but I've decided to put them on hold for the time being and read a book I just had delivered.

Give God Permission: The Memoirs of Fr. Bob Bedard was published this year, based on the handwritten notes this venerable old priest (my former spiritual director, and the Church's official witness of my marriage vows) had been compiling for the last few years. About a year ago he ran into some health issues, most of which have settled down, but a sad curtain of dementia has remained, shrouding this once bright mind.

Fr. Scott McCraig wrote in the book's introduction, "The signature dry humour and compelling directness of Fr. Bob suffuse the book from beginning to end. More than a few people have found themselves laughing aloud at times. But it also deals with serious matters.... It is a very personal reflection on his life." Buy it here.

I'm wrenching myself away from my fiction obsession to take in the truths and lessons contained in this book, and to reminisce on the life of a dear old friend who shall enrich Heaven with his worship there when the Lord finally calls him home.
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Transformations: Change of Strategy

2010-09-24T13:43:00.000-05:00

My initial concept of these 100 Transformations posts was to do three per week. Lately this hasn't been happening. I started this initiative at the beginning of summer, when the Lord was granting me a season of rest. Now that the chaos of the school year has resumed, my free time has diminished.

I am therefore changing the rules. I will still aim to do 100 posts on the theme, but I will take my sweet time to do it. My blog, my rules, my prerogative. I refuse to feel bad about it.

That permission to change my own rules is almost worthy of a Transformations post itself...
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"Work is not Rabbit"

2010-09-16T23:37:00.002-05:00

This post's title is a quote from the eminently readable David Warren's Labour Day column. It's a quote from an old Czech friend of his, followed by, "It will not run away."

The meaning is that one's job, or more precisely, work in general, will always be there, and one should not sacrifice one's soul to it. Rather than endorsing irresponsibility, he encourages priorities, by saying, "Lose a job, and you may find another. Do not lose a child."

Reading it reminded me of the job I held for 3 months before my wedding. I was the receptionist at an electronics repair shop. I took in customers' VCRs & stereos, arranged dates for service calls on large TVs, and did a lot of general office work, including filing. I enjoyed the work and my colleagues were great. The boss, however, was a weasel, as I learned after about a month on the job.

Every now and then he would give me a stack of completed repair invoices for filing. The moment I realized his weasel-ness was when I noticed that one of the invoice copies I was filing was one I had already filed, and the total cost at the bottom of it was higher than the original had been. I pulled the original out to confirm what my memory had told me, and as I looked through the whole stack of copies he had asked me to file, I realized that every single one of them - dozens - had had the price changed.

I looked deeper into it. All of these were for work done within the manufacturer's warranty. If the solution to the customer's poor VCR playback was a simple cleaning of the internal components, that's what the original invoice would say. The customer would come and pick it up, sign the invoice, and be on his merry way. I would file that copy. The pattern I saw emerging was that my boss, a few days after the customer picked up the unit, would open up the invoice software, add a few fictional replacement parts and more labour, reprint the invoice, forge the customer's signature, and use that invoice to bill the manufacturer.

The manufacturers were none the wiser, with the exception of RCA, who had obviously been burned by this in the past and required all of their warranty shops to keep the faulty components they replaced. Every few months RCA would send somebody in to collect them, so my boss couldn't pull the scam off on them. But Panasonic, Phillips, Sony - they had been nailed for years this way, I realized once I started looking back through the older files.

My moral compass was, thankfully, well formed by that point in my life, and I confronted my boss on it. "This is fraud and it's wrong," I told him. "You've got to stop this."

He balked at that idea. "Warranty work pays peanuts compared to non-warranty work. It's not worthwhile to do warranty repairs at the rates we get. Everybody in the repair business does this, and the manufacturers know and don't care. They practically expect it." Classic justification.

I stuck to my guns. "If you don't stop doing this, I'll have to resign," I said. It was an ultimatum, and I meant it. I'm sure he didn't take me seriously; he kept saying things like how young and naive I was; that once I grew up a little and had more life experience I'd see things in more shades of grey that I was capable of right then. This was eleven years ago, and I'm proud to say that my sense of right and wrong has not changed.

Ultimately, he refused to stop doing it, and I resigned. It was a month before my wedding, and it wasn't easy to put a search for a new job on my to-do list right then. But my spiritual advisor at the time, the venerable Fr. Bob Bedard, counselled that I had indeed done the right thing. What kind of husband would I be, he asked, if I caved at the pressures of the corrupt world around me?

It all worked out - I got another job after the honeymoon without any difficulty. Looking back, I'm very glad that I made the decisions I did back then, with the exception of one, which was a wee bit churlish. I had written the poem below to capture my feelings as I went through this struggle. On my last day, I programmed my computer to pop-up the poem about three months later. I never found out if it worked or what the reaction was.

The Fool

To have a conscience in this day of lies
To be a light when darkness is preferred
To dare to stand, when "Sit!" the planet cries,
O pity me, for I must be a fool.

Uneducated, fresh, young, and naive,
I beg your sympathy for my poor fate.
I know my non-conformance makes you grieve.
O pity me, for I must be a fool.

You hearken to me; pray you, listen close!
For neither this, your system, nor yourself
Will be the judge of earth and all its host.
So reckon as you will. I am no fool.
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Transformations #34: Cycles of Life and Love

2010-09-07T13:26:00.001-05:00

At Mass this past Sunday, I had a moment of reflection thrust upon me while watching the faithful gather. As the worship leader for our service, I stand up front, and thus have a great view of the people filing in.

I saw one couple enter, good friends of ours, who this last week have been dealing with the anxiety of a sudden ectopic pregnancy. They're scared, and torn over the moral dilemma of how to resolve the danger to the mother's life without overtly taking the life of the little one. As they took their seats I could see evidence in their faces of a morning full of tears already, and their reservoir of sorrow was still brimming. He wrapped his arm around her, and she held close to him. They were for each other a pillar of strength, yet themselves broken and leaning on the other and the Lord for support.

My heart breaks as I ponder them even now.

A moment later, another couple, also good friends, entered the church. This last week he had proposed marriage to her, setting up the evening with a repeat of their very first date, followed by some time praying together in the Perpetual Adoration chapel, and topped off with a romantic proposal in the courtyard of the church with the moon and stars gazing at them through the trees. She said yes. Theirs will be a good marriage.

They were positively glowing with the aura that only newly deepened chaste love can emit.

These two couples sat not far from each other, a stark contrast in extreme emotions. Yet both had faithfully come before the Lord to share with him their deepest longings; to open to him their hearts. After Mass as I was putting away my sound equipment I noticed these two couples talking to each other. I wondered who was empathizing with whom in that exchange. It also got me thinking: a mere two years ago, the first couple was engaged; swimming in the delight of new love full of unimagined possibilities. The second couple wasn't even a going concern two years ago, as the man had just gone through an unpleasant breakup and was quite despondent, wondering if he would ever find love.

I saw demonstrated here the power of the vows of marriage in their fullness, covering as wide a spectrum of the human heart as is possible. Through both spine-tingling joy and soul-crushing sorrow, the promise of each other, through the model of Christ and his Church, was the ideal to which both couples clung.

It was humbling to observe, and left me with a stern reminder not to take my wife and children for granted.
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Books

2010-08-17T11:10:00.000-05:00

My title is the self-same title of David Warren's recent column, in which he quips:

In general, I favour capital punishment for people who put marks in books. They'd be easy to catch, for almost all put their marks on only the first few pages. The effort of defacement seems itself to exhaust them, so that they seldom make it to the end of a long preface.

I've recently been immersed in a shallow vice: Star Wars novels. There are at least 275 of them, and I've maybe worked my way through twelve so far. It's a daunting task.

I had to laugh when in one of these tomes I encountered frequent use of a highlighter on some of the more profound thoughts. "Evil is as evil does" is but one example.

I know that truth is truth, no matter where it's found. But the poor chap who found inspiration in a Star Wars novel must really crack open a Chesterton essay or some C. S. Lewis; there is much deeper thought contained in their works - even in their fiction.
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Transformations #33

2010-08-17T07:07:00.000-05:00

Yesterday during supper I put on a bit of a show for my kids. We've been watching a lot of Jerry Lewis films as a family lately, and one of Lewis' shticks revolves around having difficulty eating. So I hammed it up a bit, demonstrating difficulty getting one particular piece of roasted zucchini into my mouth.

Even little Benny, at 18 months, found it hilarious and was positively enthralled - just check out the look on his face. On many levels I don't fully comprehend just how much my kids look up to me. Although it started out as an attempt at being funny for my family, this turned into an eye-opener for me.

Transformations #32

2010-08-15T21:43:00.000-05:00

I did it! The project that I've had in my head for the past seven years is finally done.

It's a drawer for the computer desk I made seven years ago. It doesn't slide too well but I think once the nuts grind against the wood long enough to carve grooves for themselves after repeated openings and closings, it will be much better.

Yes, yes, I know, it's far from perfect and I could get one that slides like butter off a bald monkey at any store, but there's a certain satisfaction that comes from having made something with my own two hands.
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Fifty

2010-08-09T23:22:00.001-05:00

I live in Winnipeg. The speed limit on most Winnipeg streets is 60 km/h.

I grew up and learned to drive in Estevan, SK. In this sleepy little town, the speed limit is 50 km/h.

While in Estevan on vacation two weeks ago, it took me about half a day of driving around to get accustomed to the slower speed. At first I felt impatient; like I was dragging a slab of granite behind me. In the "big city," you see, everybody is always in hurry. We have places to go, and a long way to go to get to them. It can take an hour to drive from one end to the other; longer if you take the "shortcut" of the Perimeter Highway.

In Estevan, by contrast, if it took you 7 minutes to cross town, you knew traffic was thick. Either that, or a freight train had bisected the city again, causing commerce and community to halt until the anonymous cargo was clear.

That 10 km/h makes you feel like you're going a lot faster. But try driving at just 10 km/h and see how fast that is. Or better yet, try driving 50 when everybody around you is doing 60 and see how many times you catch up to them at the next red light.

Once I became re-adjusted to the slower pace, the town felt like home again. Now that I'm back in Winnipeg and can go 60 though, it feels so unnatural. I feel like I'm being pushed everywhere I go when I'm in traffic flowing at the higher speed.

Looking back on my visit there, I recall feeling unanchored and lost at first (metaphorically, that is - my taxi-driving days there burned the layout of the town into my brain). My family has all moved on, and there are only a few friends left there whom I had time to visit. But once the slower pace kicked in and I gave myself permission to take my time, at that moment I felt my vacation peak - and I reached maximum relaxation. It was nice.

Being back at work now and seeing the hectic and frenetic pace that our sales staff, operations crews, and customers operate at is tough. Why can't we all just slow down and savour the world around us? Why does everything have to be done yesterday? Everybody, take a deep breath; chill out!

In a few moments I'll be leaving my house for my weekly time in our church's perpetual adoration chapel. I think I'll do 50 on the way there.
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Transformations #31

2010-08-05T08:48:00.000-05:00

This morning I somehow cobbled together enough self-discipline to drag myself out of bed early and do my first ever bout of burst training. It's a long road ahead, I can tell you that for sure, but at least I've put a foot on it.

Feels good.
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This Post Might Not Be Worth Reading, But...

2010-08-02T14:45:00.000-05:00

Did you catch the title to this post? What expectations did it set in your mind? What are you expecting after reading it that you weren't expecting before?

While driving out west with my family for our recent vacation, we stopped at McDonald's in Brandon, MB. This is one of the must-stop places for us, as it has a great Playland. It's far enough away from Winnipeg (2 hours) that our kids can use a stretch once we've hit it. The only downer is the food.

I went to place our order, and the girl behind the counter was clearly new. Her uncertain stance and the way she kept glancing over her shoulder at her coworkers and supervisor gave it away before she even spoke. Her first words to me were not, "Welcome to McDonalds! What can I get for you?" Instead, she started off by blushing slightly and saying, "Let me just say that I'm new so if I screw up your order I apologize in advance."

Now, I've been there. Even recently. The owners of the company where I work have pointed it out to me on several occasions when I've done pretty much the same thing: opening an interaction by, essentially, asking for permission to fail. I'm becoming more and more aware of my tendency to do this, which is why it snagged my attention when this girl did it. I stopped her before she could say any more. "That's no way to begin," I chided her. "You're going to do just fine. Trust me."

She muddled her way through our order, needing help a number of times, and she made a few mistakes which I caught and patiently corrected. When the food was ready, I offered her a final word of encouragement: "Hang in there. In a week or two this will all be second nature. Trust me."

It would have been easy to get frustrated with her and to beat her down. But that just wouldn't be Christ-like, nor would it embody the spirit of Friendly Manitoba.
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Transformations #21, Addendum

2010-07-27T12:50:00.000-05:00

To sate my readers' curiousity, here is the secret I couldn't tell before.

My wife, as most of my readers will know by now, is was pregnant with our sixth child (see that link before offering your congratulations).

She doesn't relish being countercultural with quite the same passion as I do, and dreading the reaction of those around us who don't understand our lifestyle choice and the priority we put on following the Church's teaching on life issues, she has asked me to keep this news quiet for a bit. Even with five children, we often draw stares or comments like:

"It's called a CONDOM."
"Time to tie those tubes!"
"Are you done?"
"Was it planned?"

I can't even begin to convey how offensive I find such remarks. They a complete invasion of our privacy and quite rude. No stranger in the supermarket would ever dare say to a family with no children, "Are you infertile, or just selfish?" So where do they get off making such comments about families with lots of kids?

At any rate, my wife and I had a bit of a dispute over how appropriate it was to hide our news from the people in our lives who don't 'get' us, and I agreed to postpone our formal announcement until a time of her choosing. This was a difficult decision for me, and I made it by sheer act of will for the benefit of our marital harmony. That act of will is the growth moment which I could not share before.
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The Lord Giveth, and the Lord Taketh Away

2010-07-27T12:48:00.000-05:00

For those of you who weren't aware, we learned on June 16 that we were expecting another child.

On July 24, during our vacation with my parents at Arlington Beach (pictured above), my wife miscarried after about 2 months of pregnancy. She's doing fine physically and is recovering emotionally. So am I. We have named our little lost one Rita Hope Kautz. We were able to baptize the remains, and also received a blessing from the priest after Sunday Mass at the nearby Catholic Church in Strasbourg, SK - St. Rita's Parish. We chose the name Hope because this baby arrived in our lives at a time of renewed hope in our marriage.

As you shared in our joy at the announcement of this baby's conception, we invite you now to share in our sorrow. We commend our lost daughter to the care of our Father in heaven, and to the company of her sister Rachel.

Blessed be the name of the Lord!
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Transformations #30

2010-07-20T03:12:00.002-05:00

At my work, the owners have set up a lending library. The original idea, which unfortunately has lost some steam lately, was that employees would be required to read one book per year which would help them find deeper wells of inner motivation. It's a great concept, but in my two+ years there, I've only been assigned one book - The Fred Factor. I thoroughly enjoyed it and there are a lot of great gems inside it.

For some time I've been petitioning the president to add Lior Arussy's Excellence Every Day to the library. This book was a great help to me as I tried to recover the part of my soul that I lost as I began to succumb to the pressures of mediocrity before I resigned from my last job. It would fit in quite well with some of the other well known titles and authors on those shelves right now, including John C. Maxwell's Developing the Leader Within You and Max Lucado's Facing Your Giants. I've just finished the former and have just started the latter.

Most inspiring was this bit from chapter three. Lucado is describing how Israel's King David, before he became King, was fleeing for his life from King Saul and found strength by praising God. Lucado extrapolates on this effect:

Wander freely and daily through the gallery of God's goodness. Catalog his kindnesses. Everything from sunsets to salvation - look at what you have. Your Saul took much, but Christ gave you more!

This message resounds with me very profoundly. Lately my prayers have been along the lines of complaining how busy I am. With my recent time in our adoration chapel, I made more of an effort to offer up prayers of praise. I was led to Psalm 94, and God put it into song in my heart, which I hope to introduce to the 12:00 noon Sunday Mass in a few weeks. This experience of praise was much more enriching than a simple gripe session, and I consider it a lesson learned.
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Transformations #29

2010-07-20T02:25:00.000-05:00

I admit, I'm a little behind in my announced thrice-weekly schedule of these Transformations posts. I don't feel bad about it, however, and I don't intend to play the make-it-up-later game. I'm just taking one day at a time.

That being said, I know that my subconscious has reason to delay posting this particular item. It knows that if nobody knows about this next step I'm taking, nobody will be the wiser if I give up on it. So here goes: I've finally decided to tackle the fitness dragon with a little more vigour. The other day I was doing up the button on my shorts after using the washroom when it popped off, pinballed around the room, and I'm pretty sure landed in the cyclone of swirling waste which was on its way out of my home (i.e. in the toilet).

I liked those shorts. It's no big deal to sew on a new button, but there's a reason it came off in the first place.

I've asked for a friend who has some experience with exercise to help me design a workout program. Once I've got a better understanding of it, I'll post again with some more details.
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Blast from the Past

2010-07-16T01:31:00.002-05:00

Years ago - way before the Internet - I had a Tandy 1000 TL computer. This featured an 8086 processor, less RAM than my old calculator watch, and two floppy drives - for 5.25 inch and 3.5 inch disks. In its day, it was a very trendy and innovative computer. Tandy monitors could display sixteen colours using their proprietary technology while IBMs still maxed out at three colours. It had a bootable ROM, which could launch Deskmate, a program which arranged all your Deskmate applications like the text editor, drawing software, games, etc into windows on the screen. The actual individual programs needed their floppy disks inserted before you could run them, however.

If you installed a serial port card, you could even hook up a mouse to make navigation easier. If you didn't want to have to keep swapping discs out when you ran programs, you could install a "hard card" - which was an expansion card with a 20 MB hard drive stuck to it. I had two of those hard drives, and they both stopped working years ago, when I was still actively using the machine.

This Tandy has been one of the few things I've managed to hang on to since my bachelor days. I did a lot of writing on it back then, and it was on this machine that my old buddy Phil Chajkowski at Aldersgate College saw me doing journal entries and came up with my nickname "Doogie" which has stuck to this day. I must have moved sixteen times in my unstable and gallivanting bachelor days, and it came with me every time.

While tidying up the garage, I dusted off the old beast. On a whim, I hooked everything up and tried booting the computer. Here's what happened:

So it looks like I'll have to consign this dear old electronic friend of mine to the scrap heap. It's a pity, but life goes on. Although I wonder if it's so old that it's become a collector's item...
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Transformations #28

2010-07-16T01:04:00.000-05:00

I surprised myself when I found out that this will be my 501st post on this blog. I don't know where the self-doubt I have about my ability to write a book comes from, but it's clearly ridiculous. All I have to do is write a book where every chapter is about something different and the publisher lets me take five years to write it.

Anyway, on to today's transformation event. I bit the bullet and tackled the workbench in my garage. It was a huge chaotic mess. Considering that I have about 30 labeled drawers in the garage for my various tools and hobby supplies, I've been feeling rather bad about how cluttered the workbench itself had become, especially because I consider myself to be an organized individual. To those women out there who would shriek in dread at such a tidying project, you must understand that for a man, time alone in the garage is energizing and relaxing. It's almost a "nothing box" activity.

With all the responsibilities and duties that stream my way each day, I often find it difficult to take some truly relaxing time for myself. This statement may surprise my wife, but it's true. So when I made the decision to tackle the mess and informed my wife I'd be in the garage, it marked something new and different for me. I've observed that the "fun" label I'm assigning to this post is the least used of my transformation labels, especially when it's about something that I'm doing in happy solitude.

Now I have a nice, clean workbench, and part of my soul feels more rested.

How to Put a Shirt on a Baby Without Interrupting the Bottle

2010-07-14T12:48:00.001-05:00

Over the years I've picked up many useful tricks, insights, and shortcuts on parenting. Five kids will do that to you.

Here's one.

Transformations #27

2010-07-12T23:07:00.000-05:00

To celebrate our 11th anniversary this past weekend, my wife and I secured overnight babysitting and shot off to St. Malo Provincial Park for a 20 hour vacation. We set up a tent, swam in the lake, cooked our food over an open fire (note to self: bacon grease combusts easily on open fire), and cycled to the nearby Farmer's Market to peruse their wares.

We woke to rain at 5:00 AM on Saturday, but after ensuring the tent was not leaking, fell asleep until the summer heat woke us up again at 9:00. Campsites are so much easier to set up and tear down when you're not wondering where your three year old is!

Overall, we had a positively splendid time and have pledged to do this once a year.
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Transformations #26

2010-07-09T16:12:00.001-05:00

This week I did something that I never thought I would do.

My 11th wedding anniversary is tomorrow (woot!). I couldn't think of anything steel to give to my wife, and I had no other leads. I wandered into Michael's the other day, looking for inspiration, and suddenly it hit me.

A scrapbook!

My wife is an avid scrapbooker, and she has always tried to get me involved in it, saying that it's not just a thing for women. I've always told her that because I'm so gifted in the arts and crafts area that if I started scrapbooking I would soon intimidate her, and it's for this very reason that I don't intend to keep scrapbooking (heh). But I wanted to do it this one time, out of pure love. I picked up a medium sized book with 10 pages in it and a few supplies.

I told her that I was working on her gift and that she couldn't bother me in the basement for the past few nights. The first night - Tuesday - I spent scanning through old photos from when we met, our courtship, our wedding, the children we've brought into the world, and life in general. I picked out 34 photos which touched on a little bit of everything and mapped out which ones would go on which pages.

The next day - Wednesday - I took the original photo prints and a USB stick with some digital pictures on it and had them reprinted during my lunch break. On the way home on the bus, I wrote a couple of poems to put in the book on the first and last pages. Once the kids were in bed I sequestered myself in the basement again and cropped photos, stuck them on the pages, and added a few thematic flourishes.

Too anxious to wait for our formal anniversary (it's not like sex, where you have to wait for the wedding date), I presented it to her last night - Thursday - and was shocked to discover that she had no idea that I was working on a scrapbook. She thought I had been doing something with steel. But she loved it.

It was a profound experience for me, as I was amazed at how my love and affection for her grew as I immersed myself into our memories.
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Transformations #25

2010-07-06T02:40:00.000-05:00

This weekend my parents and my nephew visited us. They picked a brutally hot and humid weekend to come, but overall we had a great time.

You idiot! You shot my hand off!

My nephew Dustin is a neat kid. His dad - my brother Ben - and I aren't cut from the same cloth, but in many ways Dustin's acorn fell closer to my tree than to Ben's. One of our common interests is a passion for setting up forts from scrap blocks of wood, filling them with little plastic army men, and shooting them with Nerf dart guns. OK, this may be more of a thing I'm into, but Dustin certainly enjoyed it while he was here. Even if he couldn't beat me.

Dustin lives on a farm and hasn't a chance lately to resupply his stock of army men (there are many reasons why a boy's supply of them can dwindle). We had some time on Saturday, so I took him to Toys R Us to see what they had in stock.

Dustin was my very first nephew; the trailblazer. I remember when he was just a wee babe, and I'm amazed at how he's grown up so fast. I rarely get the chance to see him nowadays - once a year, at most. So it was a neat opportunity to spend some time shopping with him, and to get to know each other just a little bit better. It's a reminder that there's more to my family than just my family.
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Transformations #24

2010-07-01T21:38:00.003-05:00

Today I did something I've never done before.

I had a beer.

This may shock some of you, and I'd wager that the split is 50/50 between shocked that I've never had a beer, and shock that I had a beer.

It was a Moosehead Light Lime (check out that website; it's very creative!), at a friend's house for a Canada Day / birthday get-together. The temperature was in the mid 30's, it was smotheringly humid, and there was no wind.

This news may sound unusual for a transformations moment, as typically a man trying to improve himself would be moving away from alcohol. But mine is a special case. Raised as a tea-totaling Protestant, my first sip of alcohol was a glass of champagne at a wedding reception I attended shortly after deciding to become Catholic. I was 23. I believe I had a bit of wine at Christmas that same year. Then someone introduced me to Bailey's and the other creamy liqueurs. I would occasionally try some beer, but could never quite develop a taste for it. This may stem from my taxi-driving days, when I grew to identify the smell of beer with... less pleasant odours.

So today, finishing my first ever bottle of beer, marks a milestone for me.

But don't worry Mom - I won't make a habit of it.
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Transformations #23

2010-06-29T23:00:00.000-05:00

Tonight I had the honour of presenting some of the awards at our school's Grade 8 Awards Night. As the board chair I'm somewhat expected to attend, and it's my pleasure to be there. It's delightful to see how far the kids at Holy Cross School are progressing, and the deep friendships they've made over the past 9 years in the school. The board role is necessarily a hands-off one, and the rare moments like this when I get a glimpse of the camaraderie between the staff and students make the nitty gritty behind the scenes work very much worthwhile.

Watching these early teens walk stiffly up to the stage to receive their awards, arms pressed to their sides, and wearing fancy clothes that don't always fit their growing bodies properly, made me wonder if I was the same kind of awkward little 14 year old.

Looking back through my yearbook from then... apparently I was.

But my Grade 8 year was an unpleasant one. My social awkwardness began to reach a crescendo and even my classmates who had never had an issue with me before that year began to pick on me. I had no friends; none at all. My best friend had moved away after Grade 6. At recess I would sit under a tree and read my Bible, which evoked further teasing. It was after that year that my parents pulled the plug on public education and sent me to a private Christian school where I made friends again.

This is difficult to write about, and me facing this in this way is my transforming moment for today. Seeing all those kids at the school today made me realize what I had missed. I found myself scanning the class groups for the lonely kid - the one nobody acknowledged - and couldn't spot any. I thank God that in Holy Cross School, the friendship seems to have penetrated all levels, and I hope and pray that as these kids move on, they will continue to know true friendship and true Divine intimacy.
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Transformations #22

2010-06-25T22:49:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is my last Toastmasters' meeting before the summer break. It's been a hectic year, all told. I completed my Competent Communicator certification, which means that I finished the ten speeches in the first speech manual they give.

There are umpteen other speech manuals I can choose from for my ascension through the Toastmaster certifications. The next level will require another ten speeches. Since it was such a busy year I was planning on waiting to start down that path once the meetings resume in the fall.

But today I pulled myself up with my bootstraps and prepared the first speech for that next level and will present it tomorrow.
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Lion of Judah

2010-06-22T02:56:00.000-05:00

I was reading through an old prayer journal tonight and found this excerpt, which I feel prompted to share with my readers:

Dec 6, 2005

The reading this morning is from Genesis 49, from the passage where each of the sons of Israel is prophecied over. Of Judah it is said: "He crouches like a lion recumbent, the king of beasts - who would dare rouse him?"

Then I flipped the Liturgy of the Hours 1,874 pages to discover St. Eusebius of Caesarea's commentary on Isaiah. He writes: "What does it mean to bear the good news but to preach to all nations, but first of all to cities of Judah, the coming of Christ on earth?"

We must not forget that our Christian faith is rooted in God's promise to the Jews. After the diaspora, only the tribe of Judah reassembled in Israel. They proved a mighty people, as the accounts of battles in Nehemiah and Maccabees attest. Who, indeed, would dare to rouse that lion?

Eusebius' answer is clear: the evangelists and apostles. They had been shown the Messiah; they knew the promise had been fulfilled. So they took their shepherds' staves and poked the lion, prodding it out of its slumber, saying, "Behold the lamb of God!"

Perhaps that's what Scripture means when it refers to the lion and the lamb in rest together: it's not some hippie rendition of world peace, but a powerful metaphor of Israel accepting Christ. It calls for a stiff-necked people to bow their heads and pray for God's blessing.

Transformations #21

2010-06-21T00:10:00.000-05:00

Today's transformative moment will, for the time being, have to remain undisclosed.

But trust me, it's a good one.
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Transformations #20

2010-06-16T12:52:00.000-05:00

On Sunday I went on a bike ride with my whole family.

The last time we tried this was late last summer. Our destination then was a local park, and as soon as we got there my second daughter, seven years old at the time, took off for the play structure and promptly proceeded to split her chin open by falling off the balance beam. The rest of the kids weren't even off their bikes yet.

As a dad, I've learned that it's necessary to carry numerous things on one's person for the day-to-day needs of one's family. I carry a tiny pair of fold-up scissors and a set of nail clippers in my pocket. I also carry a small multi-tool with a flashlight. And in my wallet are a few bandages. Luckily my supply of bandages was fully stocked that day, so I was able to slap one on her chin and we all biked home, from where I drove her to the hospital to get stitches. While they were patching her up, I watched them with a sort of detached fascination, admiring the skill behind the work the doctor was doing as he injected a numbing agent into the cut and started applying the stitches. And then I passed out. I - a guy who had seen his wife give birth five times - fainted. It was terribly embarrassing.

That was nearly a year ago. I hadn't been on a bike ride with my family since then. The previous experience was a bit of a hump for me to get over.

We did have a fun outing. My third daughter scraped her leg at the park, and that was the extent of the injuries incurred.

And, no, I didn't faint.
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Transformations #19

2010-06-14T00:13:00.001-05:00

When I was growing up, I used to go swimming all the time. We took lessons at the public pool near Oungre, SK (can you believe it's on Google Streetview?). In the change room there I recall talking back to a bully, who was nicknamed "Stu," by asking him if his last name was "Pid." Ah, the wit of tweens. Timeless stuff. I also remember throwing up in that pool a different time after having eaten too much watermelon at the picnic which preceded our swimming. At another pool near my hometown of Estevan, I responded to more bullies by punching the leader in the face and breaking his nose. Not bad for a scrawny 13 year old.

My desire to swim seems to have decreased in inverse proportion to the size of my belly (embarrassment?) and my family (the logistical chaos). But re-reading the above paragraph, it seems that I associate a lot of bad memories with swimming as well. Racking my brain for good memories, I can recall flirting with a girl I liked by swimming under her and tipping her over. It didn't work though; I ended up marrying somebody else.

This year our family took out a membership in a nearby YMCA and my wife has been taking the kids swimming nearly every week. Yesterday (Saturday) I manned up and went with them for only the third time.

I don't particularly dislike swimming, but when holding either an infant or within arm's reach of a toddler the whole time, there's not a lot one can do to make it fun for oneself. Yet it's so clearly fun for them that it feels rather crude for me to say that I don't have fun. And my wife takes great delight in seeing me interact with our children in a way which reminds her of her own pleasant childhood memories.

Perhaps I can organize some family fun activity more in line with pleasant memories from my youth. Food for thought... and possibly another post in this series.
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Transformations #18

2010-06-10T21:19:00.000-05:00

I have my wife to thank for today's Transformation post. You'll recall that way back in #3 I announced a new practice - giving a quick prayer offering up my day before I even get out of bed.

Two days ago my wife was having a rough day, and as we cuddled up at bedtime I prayed with her, that she would find strength and hope. It was a warm, intimate moment, and it brought her a lot of comfort. Last night we cuddled up at bedtime and were silent for a few moments, until she lifted her head and asked, "Aren't we going to pray?"

I felt guilty for not thinking of it first, and that guilt triggered some kind of weird response that made we want to pray even less (I'm kinda messed up that way; I know, but that's part of why I'm doing this whole Transformation initiative). I manned up, took a deep breath, and led her in prayer again. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be.
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Transformations #17

2010-06-08T23:17:00.001-05:00

Many of my readers know that I joined Toastmasters about a year ago. I had always known of the organization, but being a fairly confident public speaker, never really felt the urge to go. There was a point, however, where I came to realize that while I am good at giving speeches when I have ample time to prepare, I'm not so strong at speaking off the cuff.

Seeking to improve this skill, I sought out a local Toastmasters club - finding Manitoba Morning to be the most suitable for my schedule - and after trying out a couple of meetings as a guest, purchased a membership and joined formally. I was amazed at how much I was able to improve in my impromptu speaking, and even in my prepared speeches. In addition, I have also made improvements in another valuable skill: how to listen and provide constructive, practical feedback to other speakers. And the flow of the meetings provides valuable experience which ties directly into my work on the board of directors for my kids' independent school.

My overall confidence has grown, I've made new friends, and I've stretched myself in ways I never thought possible. I believe there isn't a person alive who would not benefit from a Toastmasters membership. Find a club in your area and check out their meetings. It can't hurt.

Last month our club held elections for the executive positions which are needed to run the club effectively and in accordance with Toastmasters International norms. Several members approached me and asked if I'd be interested in running for President, or VP of Education. I declined those invitations, as my schedule is already quite full with school board work, the music I do for church, and the administration of the schedule at our parish's Perpetual Adoration chapel. I didn't want to take on any position which would require that I do any more work outside of the basic Toastmasters club setting. At the last moment, I decided to put my name forward for Secretary, and won. My term begins July 1. I reasoned that this job would be OK for me as most of the Secretary's roles are within the meeting itself.

Right after the elections were finished, I learned that all executive members - and the Secretary is one - must attend a a 2-hour training session put on by the local Toastmasters district leadership. Immediately I had a sense of regret. I didn't realize this would happen! I wouldn't have put my name forward if I had known that I would have to do a single iota of extra work outside the club setting. And yet there I was, committed.

My training was tonight. During the introductions, I got a laugh by introducing myself by saying that since I'm not very outgoing, I am the incoming Secretary for Manitoba Morning. And being the keener that I am, I had downloaded the training material from the TI site and reviewed it prior to the training, so I didn't learn a whole lot tonight. I was, in all honesty, a wee bit bored. But my sense of foreboding faded somewhat, once the training was over. I'm beginning to see what I can learn from this role and how it can help to continue to form me in other areas of my life.

I'm well out of my comfort zone though. But I guess that's kinda the point.

Eighty-three to go.
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Transformations #15 & 16

2010-06-06T10:28:00.000-05:00

As I continue to press forward with this goal of 100 Transformations, I am finding that each day when I plan to post about one, I find my self planning ahead of time what I will do differently that day. This is generally a positive enhancement.

Accordingly, yesterday I planned to work on a project I've had in my head for years - the completion of a wooden drawer for my custom-made home office desk - and to categorize it under "fun". I do enjoy woodworking but seldom get a chance to whisk myself away to the garage on weekends due to the demands of my large family. But a friend yesterday offered to take our three eldest children to the circus, and the younger two had their naps in the afternoon, giving me the perfect chance to work on this project.

In the last few months I've been able to cut & assemble the pieces. Yesterday I stained the drawer, meaning all that's left now is to mount it on sliders.

This alone would have been sufficient for my "fun" category, as I did enjoy it and it does present a departure from what I normally do for fun.

But a second notch is worth recording. In the evening we paid a visit to some friends who happen to live near the "Hi Neighbour" street festival happening in Winnipeg this weekend. The husband was working, so it was three adults and eight children in a house never designed to hold that many people. After about an hour there, we decided to go for a walk down to the festival.

As soon as we got everybody outside, it began to sprinkle. Undeterred, we pressed on and arrived at the fair, fairly damp. We purchased some tickets and went on a few rides, had some cotton candy and mini donuts, and ultimately stayed there for several hours, getting more and more wet. Happily, I didn't go on any uncovered rides. My wife, on the other hand, did, and made the observation that being whipped into the rain in a circular motion results in the accumulation of more water on one's self than would have happened had she merely stood and observed the ride in action. All told, we had a great deal of fun, and arrived home after midnight.
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Do You Agree?

2010-06-03T22:06:00.000-05:00

A long time ago I had a cassette tape (a what?) containing songs from a Promise Keepers conference. I've had one of the songs on my mind lately - called "Yes We All Agree."

The song is done in a monastic style, where a leader makes a statement or question, and the group gives a response in chorus. The questions being asked are things like "Do you agree that he's holy?" or "Do you agree that by his precious blood we've been set free?" to which the response is "Yes, we all agree." It's an attempt to forge some kind of unity from the diverse grouping of Christian men who would be attending the Promise Keepers rallies.

This was a laudable attempt, to be sure, but they failed to ask the one question which would signify that true unity had been achieved: "Do you agree that we've asked all the important questions?" I can only imagine how muddled the choral response would be to that.

And in case there's any doubt about my stance: no, I don't agree that the song has asked all the important questions.
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Transformations #14

2010-06-03T21:52:00.000-05:00

Today wasn't really an extraordinary day, but I did receive the sacrament of reconciliation followed by gelato dessert with family and friends - it's a little tradition we in our faith community call "Confession and Coffee."

Any time I receive this sacrament I feel renewed spiritually. And happily, I sin a lot, so I get to feel renewed a lot. I know it may be difficult for my Protestant friends and family to understand why the Catholic Church believes in confession. If you want to try to learn why, check this out. Or this, which is a bit easier to read.

Tonight's confession was more difficult than usual. I've been in a spiritual desert valley lately, with many factors contributing. In fact, I'm coming out of one of the bleakest phases I've ever experienced. To sit in front of the priest and name my sins when I am feeling as down as I am was an act of sheer will; my heart really wasn't in it. I still feel like I'm tottering as I write this, as though the narrow streams of joy that have been trickling back into my life might suddenly be schlorped up by the parched sands around me, leaving me for dead once again. But all I can do is go on, one day at a time, continuing to trust, persevering in faith, ever hopeful in the love I have been shown by the work of Christ on the cross.

But I know that the power of the sacrament is real, and this emboldens my joy.
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Transformations #13

2010-06-01T13:27:00.000-05:00

Last night as I tucked my three year old into bed, I had a rare moment between kids needing attention, so I sat her on my lap and read her a book. This is something I don't do very often, and especially not at bedtime when everything is usually so chaotic.

After that book, she brought me another one. I read that to her as well.

And another one.

I stopped her at the fourth one. Then we cuddled for a few minutes, just daddy and daughter. It was very nice. It warms my heart as I think about it even now
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Transformations #12

2010-05-29T23:37:00.001-05:00

For the last few days, we've had torrential downpours in Winnipeg. This morning I came downstairs to find that our basement sewer drain had backed up onto our bare concrete floor a little bit. Fortunately, it began to recede almost immediately. More seriously though, we have water coming in from all four corners of the basement.

LEFT: AN EXASPERATED DAD LOOKS AT THE WATER TRICKLING TOWARDS THE DRAIN IN HIS BASEMENT

Last summer we did a lot of external landscaping to slope our lawn away from the house, as well as rerouting some downspouts, and it seemed to make a dramatic difference. But this, well, this is crazy.

I'm trying to regain hope by telling myself that every house in Winnipeg is having these issues, and that the planning we've got for finishing our basement isn't shot, as this is likely a once-in-a-lifetime storm.

Anyway, the transformation I did today was getting out the ladder and cleaning our eaves-troughs. I could only get to the lower ones on our front porch, as our house is a 2 ½ story monster and while my ladder technically reaches the top roof, it's mighty wobbly up there. I did make the climb, but once I neared the top I figured that some jobs are best left to professionals.

Nevertheless, I do count this as progress.
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Transformations #11

2010-05-26T22:17:00.000-05:00

I tend to procrastinate with getting to bed on time, which usually makes for a difficult morning. I'm not sure what makes me tick this way, because whether my day was stressful or not, whether my wife and I are fighting or not, whether I'm tired or not, whether I'm bored or not, all too often I stay up far later than I should.

Tonight I'm going to bed early. Specifically, right after I post this.

Good night!
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Transformations #10

2010-05-25T22:30:00.000-05:00

Yesterday we did something I haven't done in nearly twenty years - as a family, we planted a garden. If you've seen our yard and the constant traffic of kids we have through the only sunny portion of it, you may wonder how we're doing this.

Answer: a protestant church down the street has a community garden, and we booked a 5' x 10' plot. It's a start; a confidence booster for us, but especially for my wife who I don't think was ever put through the gardening paces like my mom did for me.

So hopefully come the fall, we'll be able to enjoy a meager bounty of peas, carrots, beans, beets, basil, and oregano. Better food, less cost, and a formative activity for my family to head down there every few days to deny the weeds the fruits (and vegetables) of our labour.
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Transformations #9

2010-05-23T00:33:00.000-05:00

Tonight I curled up with my wife and watched Julie and Julia, which I swear I didn't know anything about before beginning on this blogging journey (watch the movie if you don't understand why I needed to say that).

Today's transformation: instead of delaying going to bed with her in favour of spending oodles of time on the computer, I will be snuggling up with her as we tuck ourselves in. Which is happening right about... now.

Good night!
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Transformations #8

2010-05-21T12:49:00.000-05:00

One of my coworkers is quitting today, so our boss, her, and I went to Sushi Cushi for lunch a couple days ago for a farewell meal. I've never been to a sushi restaurant before and have never eaten sushi. I'm a meat and potatoes kind of guy, and while the concept of raw fish doesn't gross me out like it does some people, it simply doesn't appeal to me.

I wouldn't call it a comfort zone issue. There's a part of me that views eating sushi as a hip & modern trend practiced by yuppies and other people who are trying to "find themselves." Since I know exactly where I am, I have no desire to assume the label of sushi eater.

I'm not a sushiphobe. Many of my good friends eat sushi. I just know it's not for me.

So going to a sushi place was an opportunity for me not only to support my friend as she embarks on a new journey in her life, but also an opportunity for me to try something that I have absolutely no interest in.

I ordered a chicken stirfry. I did use chopsticks to eat it, until my hand started to cramp. I viewed this as a big enough triumph for me, but my lunchmates disagreed and said that I couldn't use the incident as a transformation post unless I at least tried the sushi.

Throughout my life, I've always resisted peer pressure. This time, I gave in.

I downed a lump of the stuff and could have sworn I felt it squirm around in my stomach in protest. I still don't care for sushi. But ultimately, I tried it and thus did something new and transformative, even if it was in a small way.

This groundbreaking event warrants its own new type of transformation category: fullness, as in experiencing life to its fullest by opening oneself to new experiences.
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Transformations #7

2010-05-17T20:30:00.001-05:00

Today I made a point during our family supper of asking my kids what they did at school that day. At our house, supper tends to be a constant chorus of "Stop touching me" with a descant of "Sit down and eat your food, all of you!"

By asking what happened at school, I am hoping to stimulate a higher form of conversation, to remove some of the chaos by having a focused discussion, and to let my kids know that I'm genuinely interested in them.

And so I learned about "fractured" fairy tales, where they challenge the kids to take a traditional tale like Jack and the Beanstalk and twist it around into an alternate telling. Julie's rendition was The Bear and The Three Goldilocks.
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Transformations #6

2010-05-16T01:44:00.000-05:00

This weekend my wife is away scrapbooking with some friends of hers. They drove 2 hours out of town to a beautiful lodge nestled in the heart of Lac Du Bonnet country.

So in her absence I took the kids to the park. Here's proof:

She'll be jealous she missed this, as she loves doing outdoorsy stuff with me and the kids. It's not my cup of tea, but since I know she and the kids both enjoy it, I am usually willing to do it when she asks. The thing that's different about today is that she didn't have to ask me to go.
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Navigating the Call Centre Maze

2010-05-13T15:10:00.002-05:00

As a 7-year call centre ~~veteran~~ survivor, I've picked up a few tricks on how to get past the front lines of incompetency designed by the evil penny pinchers who govern the support policies of most large companies.

Trick #1 is persistence. Trick #2 is a sense of humour. And Trick #3 is to be polite towards the person you're talking to on the phone, no matter how little he or she has actually helped you.

I put these to use every time I have to talk to a large corporation for support with one of their products.

If you don't know, I work for a moving company and wear a multitude of hats, including the claims resolution beanie. Today, in seeking a resolution to a claim on a fridge with two scratched doors (it apparently didn't quite fit through the doorway), I got a chance to put these tricks to use again.

In my claims capacity I've had to find replacement fridge doors before, so I more or less know what to expect. This is a Samsung fridge. I start at the logical place: Samsung's website. Like most firms, they have a support link in the upper right corner. I click it, key in the fridge model number and hit Search. It asks if I need warranty work or out-of-warranty work; I select out-of-warranty. It also needs to know where I am, so I enter my Manitoba postal code. I'm presented with two options for service providers: The Brick Warehouse, and Direct Energy Marketing Ltd - both in Toronto. My past service experiences with Direct Energy have left a bad taste in my mouth, so I try the Brick Warehouse first. But both numbers listed beside it are out of service.

Blech. Holding my nose, I phone Direct Energy. A friendly, disembodied recorded voice answers the phone with a 15 second call opening, and then repeats it in French, giving me the option at the end to press 2 for French. I press nothing and wait. Now it asks me to enter my ten digit home telephone number. No way am I doing that. I wait some more, knowing that most systems will route you to an agent if you don't press anything, just in case you still have one of these and can't press buttons. Sure enough, the phone starts ringing. It rings five times, then I get hold music. Why do they do that? I mean, really, if you need to put me on hold to transfer me somewhere, can you at least make it seamless? I shouldn't be hearing a ring unless I'm about to talk to a living breathing person. After a few seconds of music, it rings again, and "John" answers the phone. I know John is not his real name; his voice has the distinct sound of an Indian who has undergone accent neutralization. As part of that process, call centre agents in India are encouraged to pick American-sounding pseudonyms. At least this guy didn't pick "Peter Parker" like another rep I encountered once.

I explain my problem to John, and he says he can't help me and that I have to talk to Samsung. "I got your number from their website when I clicked on support," I explain, forgetting that he probably doesn't care. Sigh. "Do you have their phone number?" I ask. I take down the number, and he transfers me.

Samsung wants me to indicate if I'm a personal consumer or a business. Well, I'm calling under the auspices of a business on behalf of a personal consumer... I guess and choose business. The first four options in the business menu are for dealer support. The fifth one is for all other business related inquiries; if I'm in the right place, that's my best shot. I punch 5 and after explaining my problem to the lady who took the call, she says I needed to choose personal consumer support. She transfers me.

Alexis picks up the call next. From her accent, she is a black woman from the southern US. She starts by asking for my phone number or incident number. I give her my direct line at work, and when it doesn't pull up an active incident on her system she begins the process of information collection: do I want to provide an email for Samsung offers? "No." "What is your full name?" "James Kautz, spelled K-A-U-T-zee." (I've learned that Americans get confused by the Canadian "zed" so I never use it when speaking to them). I interrupt her information collection process at this point and explain my issue and that I'm from Canada and that I'm guessing I probably need to speak to somebody who supports Canada, right? "That's right, sir," she confirms. "Do you have a direct number for them?" "Um, I have a transfer number. Let me see if I have a direct number. Do you mind holding?" The rules for call centres, at least for the goods ones, usually include that you need to ask permission to put your caller on hold. "Go ahead," I reply. I hear hold music for about a minute, then she comes back on the line. "Thank you for holding." That's another rule she has to follow. "I'm sorry, I don't have a direct number." The token apology is another rule. "No problem," I say. "Go ahead and transfer me." Her training kicks in again and she applies the last of her rules before she transfers me: "Is there anything else I can help you with before I transfer you?" Ceremonially, I respond, "There is nothing with which you can help me today." She says goodbye and transfers me.

Rene picks up the call next. She started with the same opening litany which Alexis used - phone number, do I want to give my email, what's my name (I use "zed" this time), and I finally interrupt her, explain my problem for the third time and ask if I'm in the right place. "Actually, no," she says. "You need to speak to one of our part suppliers." She rattles off three company names & numbers which I note before thanking her and hanging up.

I call the first one: Regional Factory Parts & Service, in the Ottawa area. I get John. This guy is really John though. He has no opening script, no rules on what he has to say to me, and he sounds like he's personally invested in the business (i.e. he seems to care). I explain the problem and he gives me his email address, asking me to send him the model number and a description of what I need, promising me to have a quote to me by tomorrow morning.

I did it! I successfully found my way through the first five layers of "not my problem" bureaucracy until I was on the phone with a genuinely helpful person. That's a good feeling, and it helps me to realize that all that time in the old call centre wasn't wasted.
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Transformations #5

2010-05-13T13:48:00.000-05:00

Today for my lunch I had two delicious peanut butter and jam sandwiches which I prepared last night before going to bed. Often when I bring lunch to work, it consists of whatever leftovers I can find in the fridge during my morning scramble out the door.

I have kicked my procrastination demon in the groin. Oomph.
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Transformations #4

2010-05-11T02:16:00.000-05:00

If you've ever been to my home, you'll have seen the prayer poster we have in our living room. The idea behind it is to remind us to prayer for the people in our lives. We've got a stack of index cards, and each person takes one and prays for the person or family shown on that card. There was a time that we did this regularly as a family for bedtime prayers, but we've slacked off a lot lately. So for this post, my transformation, which started on May 9, is to begin this practice anew.
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Transformations #3

2010-05-09T00:29:00.000-05:00

Today's transformation (technically yesterday's; I'm up late right now) was a little something I've been meaning to make a habit of for some time. As I groggily rolled out of bed, I said a 10 second prayer giving my day to God and asking him to bless all I was going to do.
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Help Wanted

2010-05-07T15:42:00.000-05:00

I was in Value Village the other day and saw that they are hiring.

For those of you unfamiliar with Value Village, it's a lot like the Salvation Army thrift stores, just not as classy.

Anyway, they have a huge poster on the exit door which lists all the benefits of working at Value Village. The one that amused me the most was "employee discounts."

At a thrift store, full of used goods.
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Transformations #2

2010-05-06T12:41:00.000-05:00

The whole concept of these thrice-weekly micro-transformations is to change the course of my life a little bit at a time. The idea is to do one thing differently, and to carry that one thing forward indefinitely.

I've been on a trend lately of grabbing a quick breakfast sandwich at A&W and going out for lunch too, or else skipping one or both altogether. For the first time in several weeks, I both had breakfast while at home and brought a lunch to work.

My next transformations post will be on May 8.

100 Transformations: #1

2010-05-04T12:52:00.002-05:00

Here it is, gentle reader. A new post!

I've written before about a concept that I call "the tyranny of self improvement." It has occurred to me that I have never really hashed out the meaning of this phrase.

"Self improvement," should its meaning not be already obvious, is the desire to achieve the fullness of life as Christ has ordained for me. This means submitting myself to his perfect will for me, being transformed by the renewal of my mind.

I consider my conversion to Catholicism as my chief conversion. From an absolute point of view, of course, my initial salvation was my main conversion. But seeing as my old Protestant perspective of the timing of that event is challenged by my Catholic perspective (the Protestant marking it with the sinner's prayer I prayed with my cousin Mary-Ruth when I was about five years old, and the Catholic perspective marking it with my baptism as an infant), it makes sense that my Catholicism would be a pivotal event with a magnitude of its own.

But change in my life cannot end with an event which happened twelve years ago. I feel called by the Lord in recent days to set my eyes forward and to embrace the new things he has planned for me for the balance of my days on this earth.

The "tyranny" part refers to that part of my nature that is prone to "undue severity or harshness," especially when it comes to self-analysis. Too often I halt progress down the road to improvement when I see how very long the road can be.

Therefore the point of this post: I am embarking on a new exercise in discipline, similar to my expired World On The Bus blog, where I will commit to posting here 100 entries, three per week, on some activity of micro-transformation I have done that day to further my goals of improvement in faith, family, fitness, finances, and fun. I project this will take me into mid-December 2010.

This post marks transformation number 1. Join me for the journey!
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Lesson Learned

2010-03-23T13:29:00.002-05:00

A few weeks ago I placed an order for USB memory sticks which our company will be using for distributing electronic handouts to potential clients. This involved getting a number of quotes from memory stick providers. I did a quick Google search and clicked on the ads for the first 3 Canadian vendors which came up and filled in their online quote forms.

Since my portfolio of responsibilities at work is so diverse, my desk is always a beehive of activity. I rely on email to keep me on track, and have a compulsion about unread emails. If they're unread, I consider them unaddressed. Sometimes I read them and realize that the resulting task requires more work than I can do at that moment, so I'll mark those emails as unread again so they continue to tweak the ear of my subconscious self until addressed. It's a quirky system, I admit, but it works for me.

Phone calls, on the other hand, are a different ball of wax. When I get a call, I typically open up a Notepad window on my computer and type notes during the call. The unsaved & untitled Notepad file also irritates me on a subliminal level, so until I can either safely discard its contents or store them in a more suitable electronic file, I can't get it out of my thoughts.

But back to the USB memory sticks.

I received an phone call right away from one of the vendors I had selected. I gave a little more detail and was assured the written quote would come via email. I received it shortly thereafter. I continually marked the latest email in that thread unread, as per my habit. I received no other emails from vendors, so after comparing that one online quote with one from a local vendor, I opted for the online quote and placed the order. This all came to a happy conclusion about a week ago.

Today, I got a call from a vendor whose company name I didn't recognize, but I guessed that it was one of the ones I had found online from whom I had yet to receive a reply. I explained that this was the first I'd heard from them and that I'd already placed the order with the one vendor that had replied to me. "But we talked," he insisted. "I phoned you and you said that at first somebody else was going to place the order but that it had landed on your desk instead."

A tiny bell started ringing with that comment; I do recall having that discussion on the phone with somebody. "Did you send me a quote via email?"

"Yes," he replied. I asked him what date he sent it, and scanned my inbox (I don't delete emails, ever, except for the ones that tell me my inbox server file is too large) for that date, which was about a week ago - and found nothing from him.

"I didn't get anything from you on that date," I said.

"Hmm, maybe your junk mail filter screened us out." This is indeed possible. Many corporate email servers and email providers have hyper-vigilant junk mail screening installed, and often many perfectly good emails are flagged as spam incorrectly. There seems to be several layers of this protection, as I have separate folders for spam and junk mail (I've yet to figure out the difference). I'm also pretty sure that there's a hidden filter even earlier in the chain that blocks stuff without giving me the ability to see what's been blocked, unlike the other two folders.

I've personally observed how emails sent from my work can easily be interpreted as junk by common webmail providers like Hotmail and Gmail. The lesson I learned many years ago is that if I suspect my sent email might not be delivered to the recipient's inbox, I need to follow up my email with a phone call 1-2 days later. In this vendor's case, if he had learned and applied this lesson, he would have been in the running for the sale.

The new lesson I've learned is that not everybody has learned the first lesson I've learned, and so I need to try to be flexible in my methodology of tracking ongoing issues to ensure I don't miss elements like this.

Ah, the tyranny of self-improvement.
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Prodigal Thoughts

2010-03-14T17:05:00.003-05:00

The Gospel reading for Mass today was on the prodigal son. This is a rich, rich text and I've blogged about it many times before, but today I obtained a new insight.

The son cashed in his inheritance and spent it all on loose living. In other words, he partied hard. If the tale happened in modern times, I'm sure his parties would have been like modern raves: full of drugs, booze, sex, and thumping music. Probably the only difference back in Jesus' day was the style of music played.

Fast forward... famine, pig slop, repentance, "Father I have sinned against heaven and against you..." and the loving father welcomes him back with an embrace, the finest robe, a ring, new sandals - and finally, a party.

Imagine the difference between the two types of party this man experienced. One was full of strangers, fair-weather friends, and left him feeling shallow and empty at the end. The other was a celebration commenced by those who loved him most, who were truly delighted to see him, and who were eager to treat in him as a member of the family again. The latter party was genuine; the former, a counterfeit. They were both "fun" in the moment but only the father's party assured the son of continual love.

This challenged me to ask myself: are the celebrations in which I partake of any lasting value? Do they rejoice in the happening of a great event, or do they create only a fleeting happiness for its own sake?

If you've ever seen me dance at a wedding, you'll know that I can really cut a rug. The "Lumberjack" sequence is especially entertaining to onlookers, I'm told. But for some reason, I can't muster up the inhibition inhibitors to dance at any other time. Only weddings - and really good weddings - juice me up enough to express my joy through dance. But I digress.

The prodigal son experienced a true reason to celebrate: a welcoming back into the arms of his loving father. That must have been one epic party.
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A Crazy Little Thing I Do

2010-03-04T09:21:00.008-06:00

Years ago, my dad, who is a seasoned coin collector with a passing interest in philately, told me that stamp collectors place more value on stamps from the edges of a print run, assuming they have the extra edges still attached. This is because of rarity: if there are 100 stamps on a 10x10 sheet, 36 of them will have one edge and only 4 of them will have two edges, as corner stamps. He taught me to preserve this rarity by never separating the edges from a stamp when I affix it to an envelope.

Now that stamps come in rolls in addition to the traditional sheets, edges are even more rare. On a roll of 100 stamps, there will be two unique edge stamps: the first and last ones on the roll. This doesn't have any impact on the value of the stamp today, but collectors of all stripes understand that and are more interested in what the value might be years from now.

In my role as Customer Relations Coordinator at work, I send out quality survey invitations via Canada Post. To encourage a better response rate I include a self-addressed stamped envelope, or SASE. It seems to work; our survey response rate is around 65%, which blows away the industry norms.

But that little bit of insight from my dad has stuck with me. In preparing a new batch of SASEs today, I started a new roll of stamps. On a roll, there is a separator every ten stamps which displays the artist's name. The photo above shows how the edge of the roll was cut halfway through a separator.

The reason I include that half-separator edge on the SASE I send is just in case the recepient is a sharp-eyed philateler who would identify this as a rare stamp. It's a one-in-a-million chance that it would ever matter, but I can't help myself. The smile this lucky find would evoke on a customer's face is just too great of an opportunity to pass up.

O Manada

2010-03-03T21:52:00.003-06:00

I've heard that one of the morsels from the 2010 Throne Speech is a promise by the federal Conservatives to ask Parliament "to examine the original gender-neutral English wording of the national anthem."

Jeez, not this again. For years there has been a fringe element demanding that "True patriot love in all thy sons command" be changed. "We know that that language was not meant to include all of us," said Janet Keeping, president of the Sheldon Chumir Foundation for Ethics in Leadership. "I would just change it to, 'In all of us command,' and be done with it."

I reject that sentiment categorically. "Sons" in this context was originally intended (in 1927) to be an inclusive term representing all citizens. To think or say otherwise is absolutely boneheaded. There's something to be said for preserving elements of one's past, even (and perhaps especially) if they don't mesh with the flitting whimsy of modern shallow thought.

But the Harper Tories here are being clever and are trying to disarm people like me. For they are not putting forward Ms. Keeping's suggestion of "all of us." Instead they are suggesting a return to an even earlier (1908) rendition of the lyrics. "True patriot love thou dost in us command" is how it would go, assuming this ever passes into law. So they're not rejecting tradition by bringing this up - they are hoping that by proposing an even earlier tradition they will nullify the traditionalists out there. And I admit, it's hard to argue against.

Except, of course, you'll then get the immigrant population objecting to singing that Canada is their home and native land. And the atheists, both English and Francophone, will have to speak out against the line asking God to "keep our land glorious and free" / "et ta valeur de foi trempée" (thy valour steeped in faith). What next... will the CNIB object to "we see thee rise" or the War Amps to "we stand on guard for thee"? I'm being facetious, of course, but this does have the potential of spiraling down another telling of the fable of the man, the boy, and the donkey. Please all, and you please none. There is great political wisdom in those words.

Of course, we could make the objection that Parliament's time could be spent on better things than this frivolous issue. Heh. I'll let you know how that goes.

Oh, and a big hearty STFU to Liberal leader Michael Ignatieff for his analysis of the issue: "It would be good for us to get gender-neutral language. We of course support it. But if you want to do something for women, can we get families some child care?"

My wife and I are very happy with the current arrangement, which by giving us the money directly, means we have more feasible choices for how we can raise our kids. Under an Ignatieff plan, the federal government would fund daycares only, and families like ours would be excluded as there is no way we would let the state raise our kids. No bones against anybody who prefers that, but it's not for us, and we appreciate having the ability to choose an alternative.

How to Write a Resumé

2010-02-28T23:57:00.005-06:00

With the coming closure of my former place of employment, a lot of people are looking for work. I have had the honour of providing references for several of my former team members. Another former coworker also asked me to take a look at his resumé recently. I provided him with this feedback and thought it might be worth sharing with that small segment of humanity who reads my blog.

I currently volunteer on the board at the independent school my kids attend, and in that capacity I've had the chance to review probably 100 different resumés for various positions within the school. I've gained a fair bit of perspective on what hiring managers & committees think when they're looking at a resume (or at a stack of resumes). I've also seen the things that everybody does on resumés. It is with that perspective that I offer these comments.

In general, your resumé's purpose is to attract a person's interest. Nothing else. It should be one page in length: no more, no less. Instead of giving all the gritty detail on your past career experience, summarize it to no more than 10 words describing your duties within each job. I know it can be difficult; this can be years of your life we're talking about and I'm asking you to sum it up in 10 words. Remember: the hiring manager is looking through probably dozens of resumés. He or she is not going to want to spend 10 minutes reading each one. Make it very simple and concise. Rest assured, you will be contacted if they want more details. Same goes for the references; instead of listing them, say "References available upon request."

The last thing you want a hiring manager to do is look at the first sentence of your cover letter and think, "OK, pretty standard stuff here." There has to be something about it that grabs the attention of the reader in that crucial 30 second overview. It's tempting to spend a lot of time composing and refining that text, but for the most part, it will be ignored, so why waste the effort? If nobody else in the stack jumps out, maybe you'll get looked at a second time. Maybe. You just need to find a way to make sure you're the one who makes the hiring manager ignore all the other boring resumés.

Create a WHAM opening paragraph to your cover letter. Here's one example of one I used for an internal application for a job in management:

Our corporate system, structured around serving our clients’ needs, only works if our front-line employees are satisfied, productive, and reliable. The challenges involved in developing that model employee demand from the manager a very specific combination of empathy, availability, and diligence. In the past two years I have learned to develop these characteristics through observation of positive & negative examples, and through the applied practice of performing the myriad duties of the Team Leader when called upon. I have thrust myself into new and unfamiliar territory many times over the last several months and have found myself amazed at how well I’ve performed – and now I ask for the chance to amaze you as well.

I got the job.

Some other tips:

Add a modest splash of colour.
Print it on a heavier weight of paper; invest in some fancy stationery.
Make the resume and cover letter yours.
Don't email it to them: mail, courier, or hand-deliver it. This way you get to choose the media on which it's read, and that tactile reality has a huge impact.

Follow these tips, and subconsciously - or maybe even consciously - the hiring manager will think, "This person not only has the talent I want in our organization, but also knows how to communicate effectively."

A lot of advice is out there saying to keep one's cover letter neutral and professional. Let everybody else follow that advice. Stand out. Be different. Get noticed. In my own experience, I only ever attracted interest from my cover letters when I injected my personality into it. I applied multiple times to be considered for an internal position at my last workplace, but my successful application came the one time that I began my cover letter with an almost poetic preamble about my ability to grasp how complicated systems operate. Same thing for the next step up the ladder I made there - it only worked when I ignored the standard advice and decided to own my resume.

So in a nutshell:

View your resumé from the hiring manager's perspective
One page cover letter
One page resumé
STAND OUT

Good hunting all!

“The Box Is Falling”

2010-02-24T23:56:00.005-06:00

When I was a teenager at Living Hope Christian Academy, the school's pastor once opened the Scriptures for us to reveal what I'm about to share with my readers today. Perhaps ironically, his insight is particularly potent for me now that I'm a Catholic with a staunch faith in the Eucharist.

The golden Ark of the Covenant was the dwelling place for the presence of the Lord in ancient Israel. It and its tent were the first things the Israelites were commanded to build after successfully escaping Egypt and receiving the Law. Its chief feature was the Mercy Seat, situated on top of the Ark, smack dab in between two cherubim figures.

Our tale starts with the book of Exodus. Ex. 25:10-22 gives a very detailed set of specifications on the construction of the Ark. Included in those instructions is this:

You shall cast four rings of gold for it, and put them in its four corners; two rings shall be on one side, and two rings on the other side. And you shall make poles of acacia wood, and overlay them with gold. You shall put the poles into the rings on the sides of the ark, that the ark may be carried by them.

And true to the command, Ex. 37:1-9 indicates:

Then Bezalel made the ark of acacia wood… and he cast for it four rings of gold to be set in its four corners: two rings on one side, and two rings on the other side of it. He made poles of acacia wood, and overlaid them with gold. And he put the poles into the rings at the sides of the ark, to bear the ark.

Good man – he obeyed the command to the letter. God really digs it when we do that.

The Israelites carried the Ark with them on the rest of their desert journey, and when the priests carrying it entered the Jordan River to cross into Canaan, the waters parted. When Joshua led his people to conquer the city of Jericho, the Ark preceded the army as a beacon of the Lord's approval of the conquest and of his protection of his people. Similarly, it was taken into battle against the Amalekites and the Benjaminites.

It's mentioned again in I Samuel. 4:3-11, after the Israelites had suffered a humiliating defeat on the battlefield. Chronologically, this is placed right after Samuel's prophetic calling. Eli, the priest who had encouraged Samuel to respond with obedience to God's call, had two sons – "worthless men who had no regard for the Lord". Their names were Hophni and Phinehas, and they basically stole the offerings the people would bring to God. Scripture says that "the sin of Eli's sons was very great in the sight of the Lord because they defiled the offering the Lord" and that "the Lord had already decided that they should die."

If you're even slightly familiar with the ebb and flow of Old Testament history, it basically goes like this: Israel obeys God, and they prosper against all odds. The next generation disobeys God, and they are beat up by their enemies until they repent and obey God once again. Shampoo. Rinse. Repeat.

So it should be no surprise that in this environment of disobedience by its leaders, Israel lost the little skirmish they fought. Moreover, when the leftover troops came home…

…the elders of Israel said, "Why has the LORD defeated us today before the Philistines? Let us bring the ark of the covenant of the LORD from Shiloh to us, that when it comes among us it may save us from the hand of our enemies." So the people sent to Shiloh, that they might bring from there the ark of the covenant of the LORD of hosts, who dwells between the cherubim. And the two sons of Eli, Hophni and Phinehas, were there with the ark of the covenant of God.

Do you see it coming?

And when the ark of the covenant of the LORD came into the camp, all Israel shouted so loudly that the earth shook. Now when the Philistines heard the noise of the shout, they said, "What does the sound of this great shout in the camp of the Hebrews mean?" Then they understood that the ark of the LORD had come into the camp. So the Philistines were afraid, for they said, "God has come into the camp!" And they said, "Woe to us! For such a thing has never happened before. Woe to us! Who will deliver us from the hand of these mighty gods? These are the gods who struck the Egyptians with all the plagues in the wilderness. Be strong and conduct yourselves like men, you Philistines, that you do not become servants of the Hebrews, as they have been to you. Conduct yourselves like men, and fight!"

So the Philistines fought, and Israel was defeated, and every man fled to his tent. There was a very great slaughter, and there fell of Israel thirty thousand foot soldiers. Also the ark of God was captured; and the two sons of Eli, Hophni and Phinehas, died.

Well, it's not like we weren't warned. Wait… what was that other part…?

Also the ark of God was captured…

Oh boy. That's not good. But we are then treated to what seems like a rather comical account. I Sam. 5:1 – 7:1 has the details; I'll summarize it for you.

The Philistines took the Ark back to Ashdod, about 40 miles away, and placed it in their temple to Dagon, next to Dagon's statue. The next morning though, Dagon's statue was found face-down in front of the Ark. The Philistines picked it up again, which I'm sure Dagon appreciated very much. But the next morning the statue had fallen down again, and this time its head and arms were broken off, which really freaked the Philistines out. The good people of Ashdod said to each other, "Let's get rid of this thing."

But after they moved it to Gath, there was a great panic. The Lord was hard on that city also.

On top of that, the Lord cursed the Philistines with hemorrhoids. Yep. It's in the Bible. At least, in my version. Other versions, including the one to which I'm linking, just say tumors. But using 'hemorrhoids' makes for more interesting blog search hits.

Likewise, the people of Gath also freaked out and tried to move it to Ekron, another of the Philistine cities. But Ekron said, "Nuh-uh, I don't think so." Thus the ark was left in the Philistine hill country, away from the population centres, for seven months.

Eventually, the Philistines asked their priests what to do to abate the anger of the Lord. Being very silly priests, they replied, "Well, it seems to be his thing, so maybe make some golden statues of hemorrhoids." Yep.

More sensibly, they tacked on, "But do not harden your hearts as the Egyptians and Pharaoh did. After Yahweh had afflicted them, did they not have to let the people go?"

But nobody wanted to go near the Ark, much less carry it any distance. So the Philistine priests advised the people to put it on an ox-drawn cart, along with the golden hemorrhoids. The oxen would decide where to take it.

The oxen took it back to Israel, to the city of Beth-shemesh. The people there saw it approaching while they were harvesting their wheat, and "they rejoiced greatly." They opened the Ark, which other Scripture tells us contained a jar of manna, Aaron's staff which had sprouted new life, and the tablets of the ten commandments, and placed it along with the golden hemorrhoids on a large stone and made an offering to the Lord. But the Lord struck thousands of them dead because they had opened the Ark.

In mourning, the survivors sent word to the people of Kiriath Jearim that the Ark had been returned.

Then the men of Kirjath Jearim came and took the ark of the LORD, and brought it into the house of Abinadab on the hill, and consecrated Eleazar his son to keep the ark of the LORD.

Now we have to fast-forward a bit again. We go through the kingship of Saul, his downfall, and the rise of David to the throne. David, with his zeal for the Lord, desired to bring the Ark back to Jerusalem, the capital, where he wanted to build a temple to house it. II Sam. 6:3-11 has the tale:

So they set the ark of God on a new cart, and brought it out of the house of Abinadab, which was on the hill; and Uzzah and Ahio, the sons of Abinadab, drove the new cart. And they brought it out of the house of Abinadab, which was on the hill, accompanying the ark of God; and Ahio went before the ark. Then David and all the house of Israel played music before the LORD on all kinds of instruments of fir wood, on harps, on stringed instruments, on tambourines, on sistrums, and on cymbals.

And when they came to Nachon's threshing floor, Uzzah put out his hand to the ark of God and took hold of it, for the oxen stumbled. Then the anger of the LORD was aroused against Uzzah, and God struck him there for his error; and he died there by the ark of God. And David became angry because of the LORD's outbreak against Uzzah; and he called the name of the place Perez Uzzah to this day.

David was afraid of the LORD that day; and he said, "How can the ark of the LORD come to me?" So David would not move the ark of the LORD with him into the City of David; but David took it aside into the house of Obed-Edom the Gittite. The ark of the LORD remained in the house of Obed-Edom the Gittite three months. And the LORD blessed Obed-Edom and all his household.

There are a number of interesting points here. First, David has gone to the house of Abinadab to retrieve the Ark. Note that "they brought it out of the house." There is nothing that indicates it had any special placement or treatment during the 10-15 years it would have been there. Uzzah and Ahio would have grown up with the Ark right there, all the time.

Second, the way they transported it was on a cart. Remember this command though?

You shall put the poles into the rings on the sides of the ark, that the ark may be carried by them.

The Philistines didn't know any better when it came to how to carry the Ark. But the Israelites darn well did, or they should have.

Third, the mighty King David, like pretty much everybody before him in this tale of the Ark's wanderings, was struck with fear and didn't want the Ark anywhere near him once the anger of God was revealed. There's a lesson in the equality of all men here – anyone from the most celebrated king of Israel to the lowliest Philistine peasant cowers before the terrible glory of God.

Fourth, Obed-Edom was not struck with fear when the Ark came into his house. And instead of being cursed with hemorrhoids, his household was blessed by the presence of the Lord. Extra-biblical rabbinical literature has more to say about this:

During the time that the Ark was with him Obed-edom used to light a candle before it twice daily, early in the morning and again at evening.

The blessing with which God blessed Obed-edom consisted in children. His wife and eight daughters-in-law bore children twice every month during the three months that the Ark remained with him. According to another version, each of them bore six children at once.

So the ways that the families of Abinadab and Obed-edom regarded the Ark were likely somewhat different. For Obed-edom it was the visible sign of the presence of the Lord, and he took advantage of the opportunity to commune with God in his home. For Abinadab, it was just furniture.

Fifth and lastly, Uzzah was struck dead while he was trying to help. Why would God do that? My old pastor theorized that Uzzah's reaction when the oxen stumbled wasn't one of concern for the dwelling place of the Lord Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth. Rather, he was acting like a simple cargo courier, who saw the cart tip and thought, "The box is falling!" Steadying it was not an act of faithful love to his Lord, and that disregard for the Lord's presence is what angered God.

I mentioned earlier that as a Catholic now, this insight is profoundly more potent for me. For more than a year, I've been spending time each week in the very presence of the Lord, exposed as the Eucharist in the perpetual adoration chapel at Holy Cross Parish. My time there is generally spent with no other adorers present, and I use the time there to select the music I'll be playing at the next Sunday Mass, as well as do some prayer journaling and Scripture reading.

But at times it gets dry, and it's hard to pray. Sometimes I fall asleep. My mind wanders onto things that distract me from Christ. The sin in my life becomes an obstacle to divine intimacy. Sometimes the glorious golden Ark of a monstrance with becomes little more than a piece of furniture to me, despite the very presence of God enthroned in its centre. Have I become like Uzzah?

I know that the presence of God dwells in me as richly as it does in the Eucharist. I know that where two or three are gathered in Jesus' name, he is there with them. But there is something so peaceful, so special about our little chapel here that I desperately want to avoid treating it like just another room in just another building. I want to develop the devotional fire of Obed-edom and have the Lord bless my family (although I'm not sure how I feel about Dawn having six children at once).

Lord God, help me to seek your presence more and more deeply with each visit to the chapel, and help me to recognize my opportunities to encounter you in the world around me each day.

Space Trek: The Endless Migration

2010-02-19T23:21:00.010-06:00

A few months ago I finished reading Space Trek: The Endless Migrationby Jerome Clayton Glenn and George S. Robinson. The cover art grabbed my eye: I thought it would be one of the old cheesy sci-fi novels I enjoy so much. But I looked a little closer and saw the catch phrase across the top of the cover: "Space colonies may begin before the year 2000! Are we ready?"

Naturally, the first thing I looked at was the year the book was published: 1978, around when I was learning the alphabet.

I couldn't resist - I had to see what the authors had to say about the projected future of technology and civilization. Naturally, they were off-base about the space colonies bit.

They spoke quite highly of Syncon (short for synergistic convergence), which was "a new kind of conference. Several hundred highly diverse people got together over a period of a several days to discuss and examine the various future space options." Started by The Committee for the Future, it was apparently a "well-known" conference. Never heard of the Syncon convention? Neither has Google or Bing.

Nevertheless, in 1972 Syncon brought together a bunch of people who said that were on board for a given space project or technological initiative but felt unsupported by the rest of their peers across their industries. The idea was to show them all that they all had the same vision and goal. How's that working out for ya?

In 1977, US Congressman Olin Teague introduced House Concurrent Resolution 451, which was a pitch from to adopt a proactive approach to space exploration and energy harvesting. This type of resolution is the political equivalent of newspaper on the floor of a bird cage, so it's no surprise that it hasn't become a significant historical document. But the authors of Space Trek predicted that Resolution 451 "could become a Magna Carta for the future." Ouch. It was a bold prediction though, I'll give them that much.

That Committee for the Future doesn't appear to exist anymore, although if I felt like taking a tour of their old headquarters the book helpfully lists it at 2325 Porter Street NW, Washington, DC 20008. Google Streetview hasn't been down that private road, but the overhead view reveals an amazing looking estate. SourceWatch says:

In September 1973, the CFF moved its headquarters to a mansion in Washington known as "Greystone" and called it the New Worlds Training and Education Center. A number of volunteers lived there in a sort of commune, receiving room, board, and a small stipend.

Nice work if you can get it.

Once Glenn and Robinson started discussing the logistics of living in space, they wondered what sort of entertainment "Spacekind" (their term for humans living in space) will enjoy. Um... ahem:

What kind of entertainment will be available? Microwaved coverage of the Army-Navy football game? Electronic sexual affairs with Earthkind? Sexual playpens with spherically padded walls and a large water-filled ball as a bed?
Over the next twenty years biofeedback technology is expected to become far more sophisticated and microminiaturized. It's far from fantasy to imagine eyeglasses, hats, pants, and other articles of clothing equipped with electronic stimulators and sensors; these would transmit impulses, messages, even sensations via small microwave units to one's lover in a kind of electronic sexual affair.... Those of Earth might even get some "sensation" of what it's like to experience sex at zero-G.

Ah, the '70s.

In a chapter on the possibility of space war, they discuss
what weapons might be used in the future.

In a "space war," the weapons could be frequency manipulation, particle accelerators, lasers, psychic or parapsychological "sorcerers," orbital rockets, and hunter-killer satellites.

I can almost hear the combat chatter over my microwave radio now: "Fear me and tremble, space soldiers! I am Gortak the Invincible, and I call upon all the powers of the underworld to rend your craft to pieces!" followed by "OH S$%@! OUR HULL IS BUCKLING! ALL HANDS TO THE ESCAPE PODS!"

The book frequently falls into the trap of '70s spirituality, spouting New Age catch phrases throughout and predicting that the new social construct of Spacekind would require the evolution of a new morality. Morality, the authors state, is "an intellectually codified set of responses accepted by civilizations as survival-oriented behavior patterns under a given set of influences. And these influences, or prevailing realities, change."

Hogwash, I say. Morality is more than just a collective thrust towards survival. It's thinking like that that glazed over atrocities like the Holocaust or Tianenmen Square; when the inherent dignity of the individual is denied, the deniers are capable of all kinds of evil. Those who say morality changes say so because they have to find a way to justify the fact that they aren't living according to the "previous" moral code. To those people, I would ask - if you were vaulted into the past (by a sorcerer, for example), would you willingly change your moral code to match that of the era in which you lived? If you ended up in the heart of Puritan or Victorian times, would you adopt a lifestyle of chastity because that was the social norm? Or conversely, if you landed in 1930s Germany, would you be silent in conformity with the majority and let the Jews be rounded up?

The book isn't all retrospective goofiness, however. Glenn and Robinson do make a few predictions which turned out to be true. In discussion on the broad impact and potential spinoffs of technological advancement, they predict that:

Third World countries will no doubt make great moves toward conventional industrialization; however the catch-up move will be integration into the Space Age communication system. Through satellites and computers, villagers in Africa will receive the best education and medical diagnosis and treatment that Industrial Age money can buy. Farming can be greatly improved through satellite photography.

And I absolutely love this quote from another one of the Committee for the Future's workshops on what society must do to promote general human advancement:

This requires a world-wide and real-time interactive information system with easy access to all individuals. This new media gives and receives information when you want it, where you want it, and in the style you want it. It is the key condition to nurture decentralization. It gives local access to world resources and it allows all people the opportunity to evaluate, monitor, and model the dynamic relationship between population distribution and resources distribution. The mistakes, injustices, and change options become apparent to all. It is the little boy saying the emperor is naked, the emperor has no clothes.

Perhaps some sort of series of tubes can make that happen.
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Sage Advice

2010-02-09T11:23:00.003-06:00

Some very good insights on balancing the technology department while contributing to corporate strategic planning, from UniGroup's CIO Randy Poppell:

You have to hire the best people. There’s nothing magical about organizations. It’s like chemistry—you have to find the right mix of people and the right mix of skills. When you have some really talented people that manage your infrastructure, security, networks and application development, it makes it a lot easier to empower them and let them run with their particular area of expertise. You provide the guidance they need from time to time, but it frees you to focus upward in the organization and be more valuable versus trying to manage the details of the operation. Also, if you leave the details to your team and empower them to work through issues, they grow and become better leaders.

I like the way he thinks.
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Clever Ad

2010-02-06T16:35:00.001-06:00

This is one of my favourite bus ad campaigns:

Regarding References

2010-01-31T16:09:00.004-06:00

One of the curious Protestant habits which I've noticed has vanished from my vocabulary since my conversion is the tendency to include the book, chapter, and verse when quoting Scripture.

I remember when I first started going to Mass after having made the decison to become Catholic, and like any dutiful Christian, I took my Bible along with me. For those Catholics who may not be familiar with Protestant worship services, any time the Scriptures are read, the reader will usually say something like, "Please open your Bibles to I Corintians 13, verses 1 to 13." One then hears about five seconds of tissue-thin pages rustling before the reader begins.

In the Catholic lectionary, which is the big book containing the Scripture readings for each day's Mass, the text prompts the reader instead to announce, "A reading from the first letter of Paul to the Corinthians." And that's it. So when it came time for the Word to be read aloud at my first Mass, I dutifully had my Bible ready to look up the chapter and verse to follow along, but was left scrambling to find the passage from memory. Little did I know that at the back of the church there is usually a supply of Missals which have all the readings, along with their specific references in Scripture, for churchgoers to follow along.

But getting back to my original point: it almost seems to be a point of pride for Protestant Christians to announce the references of their Bible quotations in their discussions with each other. Rarely have I encountered a doctrinal debate where the debaters look up each others' references on the fly. So in looking back at when I used to do this, and looking at how some of the Protestants in my current circles do this, I must wonder why.

The only conclusion I can come to, and I point the finger at myself in this as well, is that giving the Bible reference in a verbal discussion announces to your listener that you really know your Bible. And not in a subtle way; it's not as though, like Jesus, I was amazing those who heard me expound the Scriptures. Instead, by saying things like, "Paul said in I Cor. 13:1 that if he speaks eloquently but without love, he is a clanging gong," I was subconsciously broadcasting my intelligence and my wisdom and my holiness. Of course, in the grand scheme of things this means that I was actually broadcasting my foolishness and my insecurity. Like a clanging gong.

It bears mentioning that I am referring here only to verbal communication. In written communication one does have the opportunity to consult the references given to support a position on a certain doctrine, and can thus prepare a response against those references. But the staccato machine gun method of spouting off chapters and verses in a verbal discussion is pointless and even arrogant.

When Jesus quoted Scripture he did not do this. When on the cross he cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" he did not preamble it with, "Like the Psalmist said in Psalm 22, verse 1..." On the contrary; the written Word of God was so deeply internalized for Christ, the incarnate Word himself, that it was supremly natural for him to use it to express his deepest emotions.

That is the calling of every Christian, and I call out my fellow Catholics on this especially. Think of what you do just before the Gospel is read at Mass: you trace a cross on your forehead, on your mouth, and on your chest. As you do this, you say a silent prayer: "May the Word of God be on my mind, on my lips, and in my heart."

Absorb the written Word of God. Live it; breathe it. But don't feel the need to add footnotes to your conversations when you speak it.
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Light

2009-12-19T00:40:00.003-06:00

Throughout the themes of my life, a recurring one is the concept of light. One of my favourite Bible passages is Matthew 5:14-16: "You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden... In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your father who is in heaven." A lit-up city is a welcoming sight to a weary traveller, even today. It signals invitation, warmth, rest, food, and companionship. But all too often I encounter Christians who take this passage to mean something more like, "Let your light shine before others like a cop with a flashlight checking their sobriety."

Over the years, my dad and I have developed a Christmas custom - we exchange light-themed gifts at Christmas. One year it was a ball cap with lights built into the brim. Another year it was a micro multi-tool with a fold-out flashlight; this little trinket has calmed many a restless child. There was the USB-powered laptop lamp and the flashlight with a fold-out tripod built into the handle.

And to top it all off, I married a girl whose name signifies the very coming of the morning light itself (Dawn).

When the ancient Israelites were seeking their release from captivity in Egypt, God sent a plague of darkness on the land. Their pagan captors were shrouded in deepest night for three days, but the Israelites had light where they lived. They travelled through the desert after escaping Egypt, God himself led the way in the form of a pillar of fire by night to light their way.

At the Easter Vigil in the Catholic Church, we start in darkness symbolic of the tomb, and hear a reading of the creation account in Genesis. "Let there be light!" the voice of God thunders. The priest processes into the church with the new pascal candle for the year, freshly lit, and from that monstrous candle he lights a handful of small tapered candles held by nearby parishioners, who pass it on and on until the whole church is aglow in a warm, soothing light. We sing, "The light of Christ has come into the world." Then we erupt into the majestic Gloria and celebrate the Resurrection.

The Nicene Crede, in defining the nature of Jesus, calls him, "God from God, Light from Light, True God from True God." John's Gospel tells us that the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

And shortly after Christmas we recall the oriental magi who followed the light of a star in their quest to find the prophesied Messiah. Yes, indeed, light is all throughout Scripture and the history of our faith.

As I take my bus ride home through downtown Winnipeg each workday, I am amazed at the volume and variety of Christmas lights erected. It seems they are adding more and more each day. There is the obligatory Santa, sleigh, & reindeer, but there are also angels galore, poised in symphonic symmetry lining both sides of Portage Avenue, trumpets raised to proclaim their tidings of great joy, which will be for all people.

Something about light resonates in the human spirit, even in this age of rampant secularism. As a species, deep down we bear an intrinsic knowledge that we have been lifted out of a darkness more pressing than any clouded night sky; a spiritual shroud has been lifted. On the anniversary of this singularly great event, we manifest this deep knowledge with the simple gesture of Christmas lights - for this is the celebration of the dawning of a new era; a fulfilled convenant; a holy promise kept.

The Messiah - Jesus, the Lord - has come, and he beckons us to respond. This Christmas, I invite you to revel in the Light of Christ; to drink it in and to be awash in it. Pray for holiness, pray for peace, pray that the light will spread.

Then reach out with your candle to those next to you still cowering in fear of the banished darkness. You have some very good news to share with them.
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This Just In #7

2009-12-12T09:37:00.002-06:00

*
Superman Condemned by IPCC
DP - Metropolis

The International Panel on Climate Change today scolded the Man of Steel for his role in global warming. "Through his excessive use of heat vision, our computer models calculate that Superman's own cumulative contribution to global warming over the past five decades has been a full 0.6 degrees Centigrade, nearly a third of the total estimated warming in that same time period."

Scientists understand little of the last Kryptonian's physiology, but they do know that his great strength and speed, the gift of flight, and his heat vision all derive from his body's unique ability to store the energy released by our sun.

Since Superman has been fighting crime so long and in so many different locations around the world, it has been difficult to track how many times he has used his heat vision. But the best estimates indicate he uses the superpower an average of 3.1 times per day, at an average released energy of 43 gigajoules per use, approaching nearly 50,000 terajoules annually. By comparison, the Hiroshima bomb dropped in 1945 released approximately 60 terajoules.

"Superman's considerable impact on crime has been without a doubt monumental," continues the IPCC press release. "But we call on him to minimize the use and the output power of his heat vision so that we can all look forward to an environmentally stable and crime free world in the future."

Superman could not be reached for comment.

No Year For Priests (In Canada)

2009-09-14T22:56:00.005-05:00

This is disturbing.

In June of 2009, Pope Benedict XVI announced the beginning of the Church's "Year For Priests."

By contrast, the exact same search on the US Bishops' website reveals:

Why? Why? Why?

Left Behind

2009-07-28T02:28:00.002-05:00

I've just returned from a grand time at Arlington Beach Camp smack-dab in the middle of Nowhere County, Saskatchewan.

This camp has a large part in my history and the history of my family. It was where my parents' courtship quickened, where they were married, and where they've semi-retired. For as long as I can remember, I've gone there at least once a year. I attended as a summer camper, years later as a camp counsellor, and on a college retreat. It's where my wife's parents met my parents for the first time as our separate worlds merged.

Grandpa & Grandma's old yellow beachfront cabin is long gone, supplanted by a house moved in from a nearby town and subjected to major renovations and additions. With it and the workshop/bedroom combo across the road as well as all the lawn space for campers and tents, it's not unusual for my parents to have 25 people - or more - staying there during family camp.

The camp itself is coming up on its 50th year, and is a ministry of the Free Methodist Church of Canada. That is the branch of the Christian tree in which I held membership before my conversion to Catholicism. Let me tell you something: Free Methodists can sing. The worship services at the old "tabernacle" are renowned for their heartfelt praise, especially the Sunday morning service signalling the end of Family Camp. There's nothing quite like participating in the multi-part harmonies of hundreds of willing, talented voices rendering "How Great Thou Art" or "All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name" when the singers mean every word of it. It brings tears to my eyes every time I get a chance to experience this type of fellowship.

As a Catholic, I am obligated to attend Mass every Sunday. In a major city like Winnipeg, my options for what time of day to attend Mass vary from the Saturday vigil Mass at different parishes at 4:00 pm and 5:00 pm, and on Sunday itself I'm aware of Masses at 7:50 AM, 10:00 AM, 11:00 AM, 12:00 AM, 4:00 PM, 4:30 PM, and 9:00 PM. Contrast that to the humble country chapel of St. Rita's Parish in Strasbourg, Saskatchewan. At 37 KM distant, it is the closest Catholic parish to the camp, and the priest services three other rural parishes as well. There is but one Mass to attend, and it usually conflicts with the main Sunday worship service at the camp. And the music there... well, when you are led in worship by an old lady pressing "play" and "stop" on a tape recording pieced together from cassette versions of the Catholic Book of Worship III... let's just say the music there leaves something to be desired.

So when visiting my family, I routinely miss out on the grandest worship experience I could have with them in favour of fulfilling my Sunday obligation to attend Mass. But don't think that just because it's an obligation that I'm not eager to be there. The miracle of the Eucharist would draw me there even were it not an obligation. And I know that I could find a priest with low enough standards to give me dispensation [permission] to skip Mass because of the fact that I'm traveling.

I keep coming back to the Gospel of Matthew (13:44-45) where Jesus describes the kingdom of Heaven as a treasure in a field, which a man finds and sells all he has so he can buy the field. Usually I think of this in terms of what else the buyer received when he bought the treasure - mud, weeds, serpents, and other yucky stuff. But this last week I've been thinking more deeply of what I've given up (the "all he has" part) in order to gain this treasure. With rare exceptions, I've given up participating in worship with a building full of eager believers, all of whom are willing and able to put their praise into song. For the most part, I've given up being able to study the Bible with people at a similar or greater level of knowledge than myself. Don't get me wrong: there are Catholics out there that do know and love Jesus personally, who can and do sing, and who read the Bible studiously. But we are the exception, and we're outnumbered by Catholics who are at Mass because they have to be.

God is renewing his Church; of this I am certain. I am also certain that he has a plan for me as part of that renewal. And I know that his reward for any losses I incur will more than compensate me (as if I'm entitled to compensation at all). So I thank God continually for bringing me to this deeper level of Truth and for making it worth the journey. I thank him for the gift of Jesus, both on the cross and physically present in the Church.

It has been worth it, Lord. As much as I am aware of that which I have lost, I have no regrets.
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Fun with Water Rockets

2009-06-18T00:14:00.001-05:00

In case you didn't see it already, here's a video I put together of a fun family outing over the weekend.

God the Father: A Father’s Perspective

2009-06-18T00:11:00.003-05:00

[this is a talk I gave on June 17/09 at the CSE Prayer Meeting, St. Boniface Pastoral Centre - it was recorded; you can listen or download it via this link]

Speaking about God the Father is a daunting task. Jesus himself spoke of God his father over fifty times in the Gospels, which to me says that there is a lot to say.

Approaching the topic from the perspective of an earthly father, while a narrower focus, is probably even more challenging. I must admit, having children has transformed my understanding of love and selflessness. Yet it is impossible for me to ponder the mystery of the heavenly father without being made very aware of my own parental shortcomings.

God’s love is perfect, after all. The story of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32) illustrates this most clearly, and it is the one burned into my mind’s eye with the most clarity. If you’re not familiar with it, here it is in a nutshell: the younger of two sons wants his inheritance early – basically implying to his dad, “I wish you were dead.” His dad grants him the money, and he takes off and lives a wild life, partying, drinking, sleeping around, and doing things which would scar him for the rest of his life, until one day the money runs out and his party friends abandon him.

Desperate, this young Jewish man finds a demeaning job tending to pigs, which are, in the Jewish tradition, among the most “unclean” of all animals. He finds his mouth watering as he watches the pigs eat their slop, and then suddenly he gets a brainwave. “I can go work at dad’s house and at least have a full belly.” In my mind this is another example of his selfish mind because even after all the hurt he has caused his father, he is still only thinking about himself. Yet, he goes home.

This is the part that really gets me.

The gospel says, “While he was still a long way off, his father saw him.” When I read this, I get the sense that his dad was watching, waiting. He had been the whole time. I picture an old man standing on the roof of his house so he can get a good view, and when the servants finally coax him down in the evening he sleeps in a room with an open window facing the road. While he sleeps, he leaves the candle burning to project his welcome, and faces the window to be better attuned to the first sound of footsteps. At daybreak the servants find him on the rooftop again, watching the distant road, trying to recognize his son’s gait in every passing traveler. They take his food to him there but he eats little. His mind, his body, his entire being is wrapped up in the fate of his lost son.

This, by the way, is what I think of when preparing for the sacrament of confession. It reminds me that God burns for me to come and to restore my friendship with him.

Finally, one day, his vigilance bears fruit and he sees his son. I imagine him flinging a plate of food off his lap, and opting for a faster descent than the stairs by jumping off the rooftop. He lands awkwardly and twists his ankle but the pain means nothing to him; he runs, runs, RUNS to his son, sobbing, embracing, kissing, shouting words bursting with love and deepest affection. The son starts into his prepared speech: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you…” but the father cuts him off and calls out for a robe and sandals and rings for his fingers and, “Kill the fatted calf, for tonight we celebrate!”

This son, who was hoping to live out the rest of his days quietly as a servant in a back room and without calling attention to his quite open shame, is restored to his place of honour and dignity in the father’s house. I don’t think it’s what he wanted, but it’s what the father had for him. He was not perfectly penitent, but he was back, and that allowed the father to shower him with love and blessings, which more than compensated for his imperfect act of contrition.

This is the love of a father for his son. This is the love of God the Father for you. For me.

It is difficult to step out of one’s adult or teenaged mind to accept this love. We are conditioned through countless influences to be self-sufficient, to be strong, to show no sign of weakness. Yet my young children are a continual reminder to me of the simplicity of a child’s love. My four daughters, ages two through eight, love me and actively show it through cuddles, kisses, words, and a desire just to spend time with me. My newborn son I’m sure is at least somewhat fond of me, and I am confident this will blossom into that same kind of love as he grows.

Often after receiving communion at Mass, I am holding one of my younger daughters. Every now and then she’ll be especially cuddly and cozy and will nestle deeply into my arms, head tucked down, gentle eyes blinking contentedly. She hopes that moment will never end.

In those moments I am reminded of Christ’s words in Matthew 18:3: “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” This was his answer to the question of who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Jesus wants us to trust and love his father with all the simplicity of a child’s mind.

So in those moments after communion, I try to visualize myself, a frumpy, overweight, awkward man, nestled snuggly in the arms of my heavenly father. It’s a funny mental picture, I admit, and the instinct to reject it is strong. But deep down I know it’s how God loves me; I know he longs to shower me with his affection and he wants me to spend time with him.

Let’s look a little deeper at the types of fatherly love shown in the tale of the prodigal son.

There is the love which endures abuses and insults, yet does not fade. It abides the “I wish you were dead” moments.
There is the love which respects our free will. The father does not prevent his son from leaving, nor does he go out with a small army to bring his son forcefully home. His desire for our genuine act of free love drives this respect.
There is the love which watches, undying, vigilant, ever-hopeful. Nothing can shake the father or distract him. He is singularly focused on the moment of his son’s return. Now most of you, if you’re here, you’re here because you’ve either already returned, or else you never left. But you must acknowledge that before your baptism and the restoration of your human dignity, at one point the father watched and waited for you.
There is the love which restores us to our dignity at the slightest glimmer of our return to the father.
There is the love which perfects our imperfect remorse. It completes the inarticulate cry of our soul; it tells on our behalf the whole story of our sorrow, for we are often too mired in our sin to comprehend it fully ourselves. You only need to start the process and turn to God to cry, “Help!” He’ll do the rest.
There is the love which retains the temporal consequences of our sins despite the perfect forgiveness we receive. Later in the tale, the father tells his elder son, “All I have is yours.” The inheritance which the younger son squandered is gone forever, despite the father’s open re-acceptance of him. This may seem illogical, but look deeper and you will realize that it actually reflects perfectly the dignity to which we have been restored. The father’s standards of good behaviour have not changed, despite our sin or his forgiveness. We are still expected to follow his commands and to reap the harvest we have sown.
There is the love which perceives the pain and disunity the sins of one cause to the family as a whole.
There is the love which rewards the faithfulness of the father’s elder son in the next life. “My son, you are with me always, and all I have is yours.” It is a better thing never to stray from his love.
There is the love which rebukes the arrogance of the self-righteous ones who scorn the return of the sinner, reminding them that there is more cause to celebrate the salvation of a lost one than the fidelity of the faithful.

Pondering this parable makes me wonder if my own love for my children would be so perfect were one or more of them to stray from the faith.

In those moments I draw strength from the love God the father showed for me, for I know that I too have been lost and have returned to his embrace on many occasions.

If, heaven forbid, a child of mine turns from the love of God, I pray that God will give me the strength and depth of fatherly love to sit on my rooftop, watching day and night. After all, he did it for me.

Decreasing Frequency

2009-05-11T23:38:00.004-05:00

(Click to enlarge)

This was all I could figure into why I haven't been blogging much as of late.

Hmm.
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The Pope's Ailing Health, Redux

2009-04-12T15:44:00.002-05:00

This author of this AP article about the Pope's Easter homily is taking a page from the media's playbook from the last ten years of John Paul II's life: throw in extraneous references to his ailing health.

It begins the third sentence in: "The 81-year-old pope tripped as he climbed up to his gilded chair on the loggia, but recovered without incident and delivered his speech to the crowds below."

It's almost like the reporter is secretly hoping for a trip which results in a plummet off the balcony, or at least a nasty gash to the forehead.

It goes on: "Benedict celebrated Easter Mass after presiding over the solemn, three-plus-hour Easter Vigil ceremony Saturday night. At the end of that service, Benedict sounded hoarse and looked tired. But the pope — who turns 82 on Thursday — appeared well-rested by Sunday morning and held up well throughout the Mass."

Everybody, use your most patronizing tone and say it with me: "Oh, good for him."

Is this really news? An 82 year old man naturally can't be expected to retain his voice after presiding over a 3+ hour Mass. There's a guy named Joe in our church who has got to be pushing 90. Why not a gripping exposé on how he did for the Easter Vigil?
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The Humour of John

2009-04-12T15:25:00.003-05:00

The Apostle John is believed to have authored (or had very close connection to authoring) the fourth Gospel. In it, he always references himself in the third person as "the disciple whom Jesus loved" (itself a profound statement of his humility and his wonder).

He really seems to have enjoyed writing the account of the Resurrection.

And I don't mean strictly from a spiritual sense. I mean that, if you read it closely enough and remember that we're talking about a translation from a foreign language whose culture was 2000 years separated from our own, there seems to be a bit of a dig at the Apostle Peter.

Take a close look (emphasis added):

Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came early to the tomb, while it was still dark, and saw the stone already taken away from the tomb. So she ran and came to Simon Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken away the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid Him." So Peter and the other disciple went forth, and they were going to the tomb. The two were running together; and the other disciple ran ahead faster than Peter and came to the tomb first; and stooping and looking in, he saw the linen wrappings lying there; but he did not go in. And so Simon Peter also came, following him, and entered the tomb; and he saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the face-cloth which had been on His head, not lying with the linen wrappings, but rolled up in a place by itself. So the other disciple who had first come to the tomb then also entered, and he saw and believed.

Maybe I'm way off base on this, but it almost seems like John is sending a subtle jibe against Peter. It's like he's saying, "When we heard the tomb was empty, Peter and I ran towards the it. I beat him there. Sure, he went in first, but I beat him there."

This is the type of friendly banter which two dear friends can engage in. Peter, being considered the first Pope, naturally commands the respect of John, but it's clear that their friendship transcended the hierarchical structure of the Church.

What do you think? Does anybody else see that joke in there?
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In The Beginning, There Was Me

2009-04-12T00:11:00.003-05:00

If you pause to look back in the most ancient recesses of your memory, to find the earliest memory you have, you will be struck, as have I, by one singular fact.

I am all I know.

Despite my intricate intimacy with my wife, my profound knowledge of the character of my children, my participation through childhood with my siblings, and even my knowledge of the three persons of the Trinity, formed through decades of reading Scripture, the teachings of the Catholic Church, the writings of the saints, and the various smatterings of wisdom from my brethren in Christ over the years... in the beginning, I am all I know.

And yet as well as I know myself, the knowledge that God has of me is far deeper. Even the great Saint Paul wondered why he did the things he didn't want to do; I too am continually puzzled by my impulses. What makes me tick?

God knows.

Literally, God knows.

For in the beginning - the REAL beginning - God was. If I believe the words of Scripture, he formed me from my beginning. For some reason, he deemed it appropriate that my originating sperm cell, among millions (yay Dad!) should unite with the ovum, and here I am.

The mystery of Christ's suffering and death on a cross makes this truth all the more powerful. For if God knows me better than reality lets me know myself, and if he should suffer and die to free me from my sins and to welcome me into everlasting bliss, does this not elevate my (or reveal my elevated) status as a human being?

An old hymn says:

Alas! and did my Savior bleed
And did my Sovereign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?

The paradox of Christianity is that I can acknowledge fully that I am a worm of a man: sinful, lost, careless, hopeless, loveless... and yet once I accept the warm embrace of Christ, restoring me to the love of God Almighty, I am a king and a priest; a heavenly nobleman. My worth comes from the fact that in the beginning (my beginning), I was spawned into existence because God willed it.

This thought occurred to me after receiving Communion at the Easter Vigil Mass on Holy Saturday. When it all comes down to it, it's just me and God. Everything else fades to black when I ponder his love for me. Everything else in my life could vanish - my wife and kids, my job, my blog - and if I am left with nothing but my knowledge that God specifically called me into existence out of nothingness, I will still be blown away by his love.

For I know that my redeemer lives.
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The Tyranny of Self Improvement

2009-04-04T15:04:00.006-05:00

I'm at a point in my life right now where I am being forced to grow in many areas. My job is challenging - not beyond possibility, but enough outside of my comfort zone that I'm required to stretch. My family life has reached a new level of chaos. My volunteer work at our church and school are requiring increased diligence and responsibility. And through this all, I hear the call of God to simplify, to live life as frugally as possible, and to stay connected to him through prayer.

So growth is happening. Some would call it maturity.

The last time God brought me through such an intense phase of maturity was right before I met my wife. As a teenager, I was constantly lovesick. I needed a girlfriend in the worst way. I knew I was a catch and couldn't figure out why the young ladies I knew didn't seem to realize it. My desperation reached a frenzied pitch until one day God led me to a book called "Wide My World, Narrow My Bed" by Luci Swindoll. In reading it, he challenge me to abandon the hunt for a girlfriend/wife and instead to be content being single.

It took me some time, but I got there. Then he really rocked my world.

"Now James," he said to me, "I want you to be happy being single."

That was a difficult step. "Content" I could do; peace comes easily to me. But "happy"... that was another thing entirely. It meant giving up my quest for what I thought would bring me happiness and to surrender not just my heart to Jesus but my mind as well. It meant to find joy in what I had up to that point perceived as the ultimate despair: being alone.

So I rebelled. Not openly, mind you. I was never the kind of guy to sleep around or go drinking or experiment with drugs. But in my spirit, I said NO to God. I turned away, and although I kept up appearances, for a time I abandoned the concept of believing that God loved me. Over the course of several months, he wooed me back, and I did reach that point where I was able to think about the single life and genuinely smile about it.

God appreciates irony, and it was about two weeks later that I met my wife. Although I was puzzled at God's timing then, it makes perfect sense to me now. He does want me to be happy, but he wants my happiness to come from following his plan for my life instead of my own plan. If I had met Dawn in my own frantic search for the perfect woman, I would not have been wise enough to know I had found her.

Anyway, the point of that story is that right now I'm at a point in my current life where God is saying to me, "You enjoy your down-time and your relaxation, but I want you to give those up and take on the work of the kingdom. I want you to sacrifice your own idea of what will bring you rest and trust me to provide rest for you. You say you don't want to be one of those people who takes on too much; I want you to abandon your idea of what is too much and respond to my call."

So here I am. I am struggling not to rebel against this new direction.

I believe that part of this journey will require me to become more capable in my public speaking, so I am joining a local Toastmasters club. This morning I came back from my second meeting. At the end of the meeting, we all cast ballots on who was the best speaker, best evaluator, best dressed, etc. Today I won an award, and I suspect that I shall be a frequent recipient of this one:
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In case you can't make it out, it is the award for Best Humourist. The trophy itself is a horse's rear end.