This painting by Jack Baumgartner portrays Jacob Wrestling the Angel from the book of Genesis. It’s a central metaphor for this blog – wrestling with life, health, urban issues, and even with God.
Today during the different politicians press conferences outlining their approach to how to best respond to COVID-19, you could see these passive aggressive political shots being taken at one another. The 'right' saying that the 'left' is making bad decisions and the 'left' saying that the 'right' is wrong. The beauty of focussing on Jesus through it all is that He is saying that life is too short to get caught up in all this crap.
So I see online today that the cops are handing out $750 tickets to folks who are homeless for improper social distancing. I guess I should have known it would only be a matter of time until that started happening, but I kind of thought that people who have absolutely no place to go might get a break at this time. No such luck it seems.
I came to grips with my own mortality a long time ago. But I did always envision a more romantic way of dying than suffocating while being stuck in a hospital in ICU with a tube down my throat on a ventilator with family not able to come and see me. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in this
it makes sense that gazillions of dollars are being infused into the economy from governments. People need to maintain their jobs, businesses and housing in order to put food on the table and provide for their families. However, this is considered emergency money for a rainy day like this. But thousands of people being homeless is somehow not considered an emergency and therefore governments can claim they can’t ‘afford’ to help.
I often think of life events as bittersweet. But through this virus crisis I’m seeing things as even more bitter or more sweet. The bitters are bitter bitter and the sweets are sweet sweet.
There’s been so much to be sad/mad about this February. But I only have one more blog post of ranting left for the month. So I figured I would just list some things that have gotten to me
Growing up in the salvation Army, I started learning how to play a brass instrument around the same time I learned to walk. And I fell in love with it. My entire history of playing euphonium up until my mid 20s was in a brass band.
So February continues to show its nastiness. We’ve had some not terribly significant snow but enough to be a pain in the derrière for me. And then this latest batch was followed by some -20 weather to make sure everything was frozen solid, just so February could finish being a pain by kicking me in the teeth. Touché!
I'm tired of being told that someone's mother's aunt's cousin stopped eating pork and now she is running marathons and no longer needs a wheelchair, so therefore I should try that.
The guy who was my pastor for the longest period of time in my life has died. It was a few weeks ago now but it’s taken me this long I guess to process some things. There have been a few occasions lately that have really brought him heavily to mind; especially when we were listening to some guitar music the other night. He was such a great guitar player and very diverse in his musical interests.
Ups and downs, pluses and minuses, good things and not so easy things; that’s life in a nutshell. 2019 was full of great meals, awesome movies, Wonderful new music, really nice books, and good times with my family. It was also full of hard stuff; sickness, hospital visits, ambulance rides, deaths in the street community, exhaustion at work for Erinn, and the uncertainty of life around every corner.
I guess I’m feeling Christmas in the air much earlier this year. I don’t know if it’s because we’ve already had our first snowstorm, or the Christmas displays are up early this year, or we’ve got our Oxford family batch of Christmas wine made, or the Santa Claus parade was yesterday and as a family we hunkered down and watched our first Christmas movie together while eating the festive special, or we have our Christmas lights up outside (not on yet). Whatever it is, I’m feeling kind of Christmasy.
Today I was reflecting on the visit I just had from my mom and two sisters. I will turn 50 at the end of November but, because snow could be flying by then, they flew here from Newfoundland to celebrate my birthday a little early.
As I have been trying to eat less pretty faithfully now for about five weeks, I figured it was time to get some sort of baseline as to where I stand so to speak. So I concocted a plan with my personal trainer at the gym I go to.
Perhaps my favourite part of the camp is the lake. I so love swimming in lake water. There’s truly nothing else like it in my opinion. I would go each and every afternoon from the moment the swimming area opened until almost the time we were kicked out by the lifeguards. During the past few years while my body was giving out, some of my friends and the camp staff would haul me down to the water and literally throw me in, and I would simply float around and take in the serenity of it all. But now that I am in this wheelchair I seem to no longer have a way to get in and out of the water.
This whole ordeal has led me to think about stuff. (What else is new?) We’ve been singing a song at church. “You’re a good, good father, that’s who you are, And I am loved by you, That’s who I am.“