Wednesday, September 30, 2020

“I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I worship in adoration — what a creation! You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something. Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, the days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day.” (Psalm 139: 14 -16 The Message Bible)

                Susan claims that I am not the man she married.

                Yikes!

                But she’s right. I turn sixty-nine this week and over the years I have lost several body bits and pieces and have had others replaced. This coming Monday, I am having shoulder replacement surgery. Eventually I will have the other shoulder replaced as well. My kids call me the bionic man.

                This is the last blog for a few weeks while I recuperate. I will probably be back in mid-November.  I probably could type with one hand and not be any worse than I am with two. But the shoulder needs to be rested for several weeks while it heals. I am putting myself on the Injured List (a baseball reference).

                Satchel Paige, a Negro League baseball player, once said that if he had known he was going to live this long he would have taken better care of himself. Well said! 

                Our bodies are marvelous creations indeed.  We were created in the image of God. (Genesis 1:26) I don’t think we reflect on that imagery as much as we might. Perhaps the apostle Paul had this rich imagery in mind when he wrote: “Or didn’t you realize that your body is a sacred place, the place of the Holy Spirit? Don’t you see that you can’t live however you please, squandering what God paid such a high price for? The physical part of you is not some piece of property belonging to the spiritual part of you. God owns the whole works. So let people see God in and through your body.” (1 Corinthians 6: 19 -20, The Message Bible)

                I know that I could have and should have taken better care of myself over the years. My arthritis is mostly hereditary (thanks Mom)  but a lot of my other physical issues are pure laziness and lethargy. I see men, my age, jogging, riding bikes, just walking  and taking better care of themselves than I am. Ten thousand steps – maybe in a three months for me, at best, but not in a day.

                I can’t preach  what I don’t practice particularly well, but  I am aware that total well-being is a combination of physical, spiritual and mental health. It is all too easy to allow oneself to go backwards in any of those areas.  This lousy pandemic becomes an excuse to cocoon in our personal and  private nests. No travel. Little or no socialization. No or very limited church. Some are afraid to stick their noses outside the front door. I am an expert at reclusiveness.

                Yet there is a need to feed, nourish, exercise, and keep fit this marvelous thing we call our bodies and souls. I am supposed to be practising deep breathing exercises and I am doing so.  Deep breath in through the nose and let it our through the mouth. Fill up my lungs, expand their capacity, take in more oxygen. I do it several times a day for two or three minutes each time. It is a good analogy for taking care of the rest of me.

                Breathe deeply in the love of God. Exhale the toxins of the world around you. Fill your capacity for love and forgiveness. Take in the beauties of life and appreciate more fully the wonder of living. Exercise your soul in some way. Enlarge your spirit. Move the muscles of your ability to live responsibly and meaningfully.  Get up and do something, especially if it is for someone else. You will feel better, stronger and more alive.

                There are no replacement parts for our whole body, soul and spirit. We need to make sure that God’s design on our personal creation does not fall apart.

                Bend those knees. Lift those hands.

Dale

 

Wednesday, September 23, 2020

“Purify me from my sins, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.” (Psalm 51: 7. New Living Translation) 

                Powerwash! I needed a Powerwash last week.

                No, I wasn’t taking my car through a carwash nor was I using a high powered spray to clean my driveway (which by the way I think is a pointless waste of time and good, clean water). I haven’t installed a new more powerful shower head in the bathroom.

                My Chrome book/mini-computer began not to cooperate with me. Among other things, it wouldn’t download Facebook or Messenger. Oh, the horror! Being the highly competent techie that I am – not – after trying a number of possible remedies, all of which failed of course, I took it into my good friends at Staples.

                After their initial examination, they recommended the Powerwash. It is a setting by which the current operating system is wiped out and replaced with the same but working operating system. That’s what they did for me. I lost a couple of things but in about a half hour I was up and running again. Thanks to Powerwash.

                I would really like to apply a Powerwash to the year 2020; wouldn’t you? Let’s just reboot the whole damnable year. It isn’t worth saving. I want a do-over. A fresh beginning. Wipe it out of our memory banks.  Somebody hacked into the year and literally sent us a virus. It’s time for a Powerwash – clean up this mess and let’s have a better operating system up and running.

                But I also am thinking that sometimes our lives could use a good Powerwash, too. Perhaps that is the real meaning of repentance. But I know that throughout my life there were so many things I am sorry for or regret or shouldn’t have done or failed to do or said in anger or should have done differently or made better choices, that I would like to erase those bits and have a clean slate. I have had more than my ample share of good things, too.  I don’t want to lose those memories but I will take a Powerwash just the same.

                Repentance is a start.  But atonement is the religious word for the gracious, powerwash gift of God’s Love which cleans the human heart, spirit and soul.  No wonder it is compared to a second birth.  It is God’s fresh claim on our lives, to help us to put our lives back in good and proper order. We are infused with a new operating system, one that leaves the junk behind and restores love, joy, peace and harmony. This redemption helps us reconnect to those good applications that make life more livable and complete. God helps us to forget and let go of the past, find forgiveness and reconciliation and  give us a re-boot  - not just in the backside but fresh opportunities to live a better and wholesome life. Some might label that as righteousness.

We are made right by God’s Love, Grace and Mercy.

Now that is what I would call a Powerwash.

            “Soak me in your laundry and I’ll come out clean,
                scrub me and I’ll have a snow-white life.
            Tune me in to foot-tapping songs,
                set these once-broken bones to dancing.
            Don’t look too close for blemishes,
                give me a clean bill of health.
            God, make a fresh start in me,
                shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life.” (Psalm 51: 7-10, The Message Bible)

 Dale

 

Wednesday, September 16, 2020

“What a wildly wonderful world, God! … All the creatures look expectantly to you to give them their meals on time. You come, and they gather around; you open your hand and they eat from it. If you turned your back, they’d die in a minute— Take back your Spirit and they die, revert to original mud; Send out your Spirit and they spring to life— the whole countryside in bloom and blossom.” (Psalm 104: 24 – 30 The Message Bible) 

                “I just want my dog to live longer.”  This is the title of a fairly recent Blues’ song by Curtis Salgado. “I don’t care where his nose has been; I let him lick my face again and again.”

                This song takes on some added poignancy for Susan and myself as we said good-bye to Kramer, our black and white Australian Shepherd, last Thursday. He was only thirteen but over the last year, old age had  caught up to him very rapidly until finally it incapacitated him completely. He was existing but he was no longer living any quality of life. Susan noted that he had stopped wagging his little nub of a tail quite some time ago. When you lose your wag, life is barely worth living. We made the choice, tough as it was, to put him to sleep.

                We were, at least, the third home for Kramer. We have often wondered what kind of life he had lived in those other places. We don’t think he was abused but neither did it appear that he was adequately loved.  He never learned to play like most dogs. He was neurotic, anxiety-filled, jealous of other dogs, and to be frank, a few apple slices short of a full MacDonald’s Kid Meal. In spite of all that, he was a very handsome dog. Best of all, he was full of abounding, unconditional love and affection for Susan and me. Indeed, he loved all people. At Hallowe’en, he eagerly greeted the kids who came to our door. He’d follow the Post Office delivery man down the front sidewalk. (He also owned an Aussie.) He and Susan had a very special bond and this loss has been especially hard for her.

                Kramer loved pasta. He would slurp down long strands of spaghetti. Even as his appetite began to fail, he would still eat Kraft Dinner. He loved bread, especially corners of sandwiches. If we weren’t careful, he could clean out a loaf of bread from a plastic bag without even tearing a hole in the bag. When he was younger, he thought he was a lap dog, despite his size, and would get up on the couch with us and sit in my lap, demanding a scratch or two or three. One of his favourite spots was to lie on top of Susan's foot,

                And so on it goes – lots of memories, mostly good. We are so thankful that the two dogs finally were getting along again over the last few months. Charlie even seems to miss him too and has been moping around the house this past week.

                I don’t really have any great profound spiritual insight out of all this. But it makes me aware how precious life is and how brief it can be. Our pets give us love and fill our lives with joy and happiness. We can’t imagine a life without our dogs even though we will outlive them. Why we put ourselves through such grief every time is because the love and the companionship and the fun of having these creatures in our lives outweighs the sorrow at the end. Just the same, my greatest wish is that my dog would live longer.

                Someone once said that if dogs don’t go to heaven, then I want to go where they go.

                Amen to that!

 

Dale

 

Wednesday, September 9, 2020

“Dear friend, I hope all is well with you and that you are as healthy in body as you are strong in spirit.” (3 John 1:2, New Living Translation)

                 The headline is startling: “Half a million US kids diagnosed with Covid.”

                It makes me pause, anyway. Of our seven grandchildren, three of them are going into elementary school (William, Henry and Spencer) and two others (Declan, Amelia and Beckett) are going into day care this Autumn, with a fourth (Naomi) in January.  Along with that reality, there is also the fact that two of our adult children (Nick and Katie) are school teachers. When the provincial government tries to assure us that they have a sound plan for the re-opening of schools, be very skeptical. Although there is some chaos to be expected in these unusual and difficult circumstances, I am witnessing too much confusion, miscommunication and sometimes, just plain stubborn stupidity coming from the top. It adds to the stress of students, teachers, parents and grandparents.

                On top of that, we have two nurses in our family. Maggie works at the hospital in Goderich. Erin returns to work at Sick Kids in Toronto this month, after her maternity leave is over. Krista returns to work in January at the University of Waterloo, Nate is an essential service worker in a medical chemical company. Our family is heavily invested in the current Covid culture.  As are many, many others.

                Hoping and praying that all remain healthy in body and spirit is the least that those of us who are on the sidelines can do.  But I will confess that it almost hardly seems to scratch the surface. But  neither can we simply put everyone in a protective bubble as much as we would like to try. Life goes on, even during a pandemic. So, I am hoping and praying!

               Stay healthy. Stay strong.

                And pray!    

               God has great compassion for the vulnerable, for children, for those exposed to the side-effects of harm and suffering.  Pray that the right vaccines soon became available. Pray for your families. Pray for the front-line workers. Pray for governments to make wise and compassionate decisions.

               Stay healthy. Stay strong.

                And trust!

              Words alone are not going to protect our loved ones from harm. Our words become stronger when they are influenced by faith and bolstered by our confidence in God. We are not alone. We are not abandoned. We have a strong ally. We have a source of strength. We are embraced in Love.

                Stay a healthy. Stay strong.

                And act.

                Let’s not kid ourselves. All of us need to cooperate in doing our part to fight Covid. Ignoring it is not an option. Wishing it to go away is not an option. But we can set examples in our families by doing the right things, e.g. wearing a mask. God expects us to be smart and responsible even as God helps us against this disease. Protect our families. Protect our neighbours. Protect the stranger. It is amazing how we see our prayers answered when we actively become part of God’s process and response. God doesn’t want to go it alone anymore than we do!

                So to all the children going back to school, to the teachers,  to school custodians, to the secretarial staff, to all on the frontlines everywhere  – stay healthy; stay strong. The Lord is with you!

 

Dale

 

Wednesday, September 2, 2020

“Jesus said, ‘Bring some of the fish you’ve just caught.’ Simon Peter joined them and pulled the net to shore—153 big fish! And even with all those fish, the net didn’t rip.” (John 21: 10-11, The Message Bible)

                My Grandpa cred peaked last week. It’s time for another fish story.

                We were up at Nick and Erin’s cottage last Friday for Becket’s first birthday. It was a great day all round! William (7) and Henry (almost 5) were fishing off the end of the dock, their hooks baited with worms. They weren’t catching any thing.  William wanted to cast out into deeper water. He’s pretty good at casting but he asked me to toss the line out. I did and he decided to let me fish the cast. Now I have cast off that dock more times then I can remember over the years (Susan’s parents owned the cottage first) and I cannot recall ever catching a blessed thing. But this one time, I felt a bite, yanked and, lo and behold, I had a fish - a small mouth bass. Not very big but it was still a fish. My grandsons were very excited and impressed with Grandpa’s fishing luck. (Trust me; it was luck.)

                I used to love fishing but have gotten away from it for quite a long time.  Some of my fondest memories of my father were spending time fishing with him when I was young. I have never been the best fisherman or the most successful. I would go out with friends for a day’s fishing expedition and we caught nothing on most occasions.

                Therefore, I remember the few successes I have had.  A large pike while I was fishing from the bottom of a canoe while Susan and my sister-in-law Janice paddled.  A large catfish fishing from  the shores of the Bay of Quinte. A honey hole from which I pulled several large mouth bass of various sizes (catch and release) fishing from a rubber dinghy along the shore of a lake where we had rented a cottage. Not many, but memorable.

                It does not really surprise me that one of the disciples counted the fish on that memorable day. There were 153 fish – big ones! One might argue that they should have been paying attention to the miracle who was standing on the shore talking to them – a living Jesus. But sometimes, it’s the minor things that stick in one’s mind when one is overwhelmed with wonder and being God-struck. It was probably customary to count the fish so as to know what the full value was of your catch when one went to sell it. Doing something ordinary and familiar helps keep one’s equilibrium in unbelievable and incredible circumstances.  Even after a few appearances by Jesus, the disciples had still gone back to their old way of living. But a living Jesus won’t go away!

                We don’t easily forget many of the details of special moments. As silly as it may sound the disciples remembered caching 153 large fish on the same day as they, once again, encountered a living Jesus who was preparing something so mundane as breakfast on the shore. What a mixture of ordinary and extraordinary all happening at the same time, don’t you think?

                Jesus takes the ordinary stuff in our lives and feeds us with his presence. He appears on the shorelines of our futility and encourages us to toss our cares aside. Jesus makes his presence felt in the regular routines and changes the circumstances in ways we barely can imagine.

                Cast your spiritual lines into deeper water.  If one way isn’t working, try another. But more importantly, lift your  eyes away from your routines and occupations, your busy-ness and old habits. That’s Jesus waving at you from the shore.

                Don’t forget it!

 Dale