Melancholy

I've slowly been learning to come to grips with a cold, hard, beautiful fact of my life: I am a melancholy person and I currently am experiencing this truth. Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy life and I believe I laugh quickly and with gusto and enjoy seeing others do the same. But it doesn't take very long for me to get to a place where I feel more deeply and feel like my guts are sloshing around in the basement of a sad house.

Life is beautiful, so incredibly beautiful. I watch my kids and I listen to them tell stories and say ridiculous things ("God is so powerful that he can carry giant lawn chairs." What?!?). I am able to sit on a lake and fish and watch my world. I enjoy relax in the evening with my wife and we figure out exactly how to save the world. Typically this occurs right around 11:00 at night. We call it 11 o'clock genius.

But life is incredibly tragic and seems to be more so for some than others. I could list off a small book of people I know who are fighting cancer at this very moment. These people all have family and loved ones who are hoping and praying that everything goes very well but who all know the possibilities on the other side of the coin. I just read an article on CNN about police finding a women who spent the last 17 years living in a shed. She was abducted by a couple when she was eleven years old and was concealed in a shed while having two children who were fathered by her captor. The kids are now 15 and 11 and were raised in a shed. "They are all in good health," Kollar said in response to a question about how Dugard and her children are doing. "But living in a backyard for the last 18 years does take its toll." Go figure.

These are just a few of the things that reinforce my melancholy self. Life is beautiful, but life is also incredibly brief (even if you live for your 80 years) and unpredictable. I wear that sentiment on my leg partly because I enjoy brilliant, inspirational art and partly to remind myself on a lazy Sunday afternoon to take my kids to the park and be ridiculous even when I would love to just be lazy. The blossoms are falling from the tree and we never really know when they're done.

So, I'm going to go to a party to celebrate my niece's upcoming wedding tonight. We're going to laugh, enjoy each others company, have good food and drink and hope for a wonderful future for them. Sometimes hope can be a rare commodity but I'll do my best to revel in it and stoke it's flame so we can all keep warm.

Grace and Irresponsible Love

There are times that Christians likely try too hard to stand up for... well, fill in the blank. I've been reading Brennan Manning lately and his offering, "The Furious Longing For God." Manning argues (convincingly I believe) that Christ was quite serious when He spoke of what would be the marking of a true disciple of Christ. That would be love in case you're wondering. Yes, I could provide the book, chapter and verse but it's past 1 in the morning and I'm a little lazy.

Manning is often criticized by talking too much about love and not enough about sin, judgment and hell. There is a tension for me as I read his work because there's a part of me that says, "but what about..." well, fill in the blank. It's that piece of me that has it ingrained that to be a follower of Jesus is to uphold the moral standard. If you've never read any of Manning's work, don't get me wrong, he is not a feel good, postmodern hippie looking for a tree to stroke. His words are challenging, beautiful and absolutely terrifying at times because he speaks of true discipleship and calls his readers to take Christ's words for what they are: truth and not just bumper stickers for southern gospel conventions.

Wouldn't it be a treat to be criticized for talking too much about love and loving too much?

"Mercy, there's a word you can drown in every moment." Remember that Mallonee guy I made mention of in the first post, well that's his line. It's haunting because it's true and it's the call of the follower of Jesus since mercy is the kissing cousin of love. Two things. First, I don't know of emotions can actually be cousins and second, I have no proof that they have actually kissed or even held hands for that matter. But I believe they have shared a long glance from across a smokey room filled with sinners and saints and all the beginners.

To wrap up this rant, I'm tortured with trying to understand faith and its relevance in our world. But as I continue to understand what the fundamentasl of faith are I have to start with Love. I'm not sure how many stories my faith house will have but if I don't have that foundation correct, what's the point? Really, what's the point?

Providence and a Corolla

It's just a car, it really is. 4 wheels, an engine and a robin egg blue exterior. And please don't suggest that there is a color more masculine than robin egg blue because you will lose that war, and badly I might add.

What I'm trying to figure out is if that Corolla came to me by, and represents in some way, God's grace in this world. I've been struggling with the way in which God works in our world lately. I have found my theological grid revealing less and less room for God working in the everyday in our lives. Not that I don't believe that God works in our world, it's just that sometimes I wonder if Christians sometimes attribute stuff to God that really isn't God at all and it's about stuff that God really doesn't care about. So I'm not suggesting that God "gave" me the Corolla. The reason I have a difficult time chewing that theology well enough to swallow is because of the incredibly horrible fact that the MAJORITY of humanity lives in such squalor and horrific poverty that I can't really fathom. In light of that it would seem rather trite that God would take the time and energy to deliver a car in my hands. However, I was tortured and consumed by vehicle hunting, especially the day Robin found me. That's the Corolla's name. It fits.

Theologians use a term called "common grace." Basically it means that there is a certain level of grace found in our world that everyone experiences and it is separate, yet linked, to the grace of salvation. It's kind of like the oxygen in the air and I hope that is a decent enough analogy.
Perhaps Robin is evidence of common grace. I'm struggling with understanding a car as divine appointment, you know? But maybe, just maybe Robin showed up because, and is evidence of God's grace in this tragically beautiful mess of life. Not God lining up events and timing for me to buy this car, but God's gracing permeating people and events enough that it worked out this time.

As I reread my post, I'm struck by a tension that exists and I don't know what to do with it right now. How about more consideration?

Bought a car, now pass the kleenex

I've been looking for a car for far too long with very little success (see previous post). Piece of junk after piece of junk with owners that seem to match (Ok, ok that's too harsh, but c'mon). Then after coming back from a late lunch I took the time to check online and low and behold was THE CAR. Wait for it...1994 Toyota Corolla, one owner, "too old to drive", 83,000 kms. Made the phone call, talked to a great old guy who is advertising for his 80 year old brother and owner of the Corolla. Julie and I load the kids in the van with a sweaty handful of cash and have an experience that is far removed from my other car hunting excursions.

We pull up to the house, grab Ivan and go over to see Vernon's car. This thing is almost a time capsule, at least on the inside. Small spot of rust that I made too big of a deal over. Ivan and Vernon are showing me this car, bragging about the condition. "The tires are three years old." I swear there is 95% of the tread on them. "Three years old", I said. They're brand new! I mean, do the math. 83k kms over 15 years is just over 5000 kms a year! I've done that in a month before! We do some intense negotiation and agree on a price. I have to take Ivan back to his house to get the safety and bill of sale for Vernon to sign. Ivan invites us inside and his wife gives my kids iced tea and cookies. We're sitting around the table like I'm a long lost son that Ivan didn't know about("Remember that night on the Peacekeeping mission in '74? Well, hello Dad"). Long story short we bought the car and it's now in our driveway, gently weeping because deep down it knows that no matter how well I take care, its better days are now officially over.

Here's the deal. This was an emotionally draining experience for me. I have a difficult time with seniors because I can't help but feel deeply tragic when I see them shuffling with a walker in a mall. Growing old means an ever increasing amount of loss. Loss of career, the home they've lived in forever, a license (Vernon was voluntarily giving up his license) among many others that contribute to a loss of independence. When I took the keys from Vernon I couldn't help but feel that I reached into his chest and took a piece of his soul with me (I put it in the glove box between the owners manual and registration). He was so anxious to make sure I knew everything about the car. "To turn on the interior light there is a switch on the dome inside." He was losing his car that he had taken care of so meticulously for the past 15 years. He was relegating himself to the bus and rides from friends and family. He just wanted to make sure that his car and me had a proper introduction.

It's just a car, but there is a lot of meaning for me wrapped up in this aqua import.

To be continued...

Dud Finder

So here's the thing. I hate car shopping. I mean, at first I think I really, really like it. There's all the research into finding the right car, looking at all the websites, blah, blah, blah. Then 12 hours later I realize that looking for the "right" car is like looking for a walnut in a big pile of poop. I'm just so tired of going to look at a "nice car with good body" and walking up to a vehicle that has rust and dents all over it. Ok, I'm picky and I know it, but c'mon. I wish I wasn't so nice sometimes. I firmly believe my gift is to find some of the most misrepresented vehicles advertised. If you ever need to find a dud, give me a call. I can sniff them out with the best of them.

My problem is that I place a great deal of pressure on myself to find the perfect vehicle. It has to have the ideal blend of fantastic shape, low kms, great features all for a price that comes up only once a lifetime. The problem is that car really does only come up once in a lifetime (and it was about 4 weeks ago but I missed it). Essentially I'm a heroin addict looking for the high of the first hit. Every time I sit down at my computer I start slapping my arm, my eyes start to twitch and I start grinding my teeth: "C'mon Baby! Make me feel something!"

What drives me crazy is how much I can let myself be defined by a vehicle. I oscillate between feeling happy and content with driving older vehicles all my life and lusting after something quite new and shiny with options that delight the senses. And I think I've noticed that I'm drawn to the latter when something else in my life is going poorly. It's like the idea of driving a new vehicle will complete me more. Apparently I've learned nothing from human history.

Capacity

I sit with people. A lot. I've heard many stories and many expressions of frustration, anger, hurt and pain in a variety of fashions throughout my eleven year career as a "people helper." What never ceases to amaze me is how people have this unbelievable capacity to hide their pain and crap from others. I'm not just talking strangers or acquaintances, but from close friends and family members. So often when people's darkness comes out the ones that know them best are shocked. We are able to hold things together long enough in certain situations that prevent others to see the heartache that is occuring. I mean, there's leakage. There's always leakage and if you think that there isn't you're fooling yourself. Our words and our actions betray us even when we think we're being oh so sneaky. It's like our bodies and our souls recognize when they are being ignored and they send signals to the outside world in the hopes that someone's radar will pick up the blips. It's just that most times we're all too busy to hear and to see and we don't take the time and energy to pick up on the leaks. It's usually not intentional, but... well that's for a different time.

I say these things for a couple of reasons. First, their just rattling up in my head and I think part of this whole blog thing is a way to get some of this out. Second, it's a reminder that the people I see, go to church with, have coffee with, am in community with and love are likely struggling with something. I'm just not noticing the leaks.

Post Number One

So, like probably tens of thousands of other people today, I've started a blog. Why would I bother you ask? Perhaps I'm the one asking that question. I'm somewhat hoping that there will be some catharsis involved here. I've always wanted to do more songwriting so perhaps I'm hoping that this will be a gateway to that end. A "priming the pump" sort of thing. Perhaps I'm waiting for someone and am a little bored. Content? Hmmmm. A little of this and a little of that I suppose. Comments on my perspectives on life, faith, family, fishing, music and, well, we'll see. There's no commitment here by the way. This might be over before it starts. I may not even have the courtesy to call back the next day even though I swear I will. We'll see. So what is it about putting your thoughts out for everyone (and chances are, no one) to read and experience? A soap box I guess that sits out in the great information highway, although that title is suspect. Misinformation would likely be more accurate but nonetheless it is what is. I'll do my best to not add to the latter label. "Audible Sigh" comes from a song and album name from the great Bill Mallonee (pronounced mal-o-knee). I spent 10 years pronouncing his last name mal-own-ee until I finally saw him live in a club in Minneapolis last year. Despite this I am a very big fan of this terrific songwriter who never has and, unfortunately, never will gain any sort of notoriety. He seems to be able to capture the pain and tension of living in a world full of heartache and satisfaction, sorrow and joy. There will likely be plenty of his crooning all over this thing as well as many other artists I admire. I don't have enough original thought to go around so I'll borrow from wherever and whomever I can.

As for who I am, well there's time for that later. Alright, let's get things started then. My appointment is almost here...