Tag: Me

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Naked I Shall Return

I never want to quite grow attached to any one place. Is that even possible? To be a migrant in this world, in this day and age? I’m not sure that I ever want to own a house. Perhaps that will help ? help keep the clutter of possessions at a minimal, the roots shallow and the feet moving. Yet I feel that I will always have an attachment to places. Root’s seem to grow fast and stay, even when the rest of the plant is ripped off and moved elsewhere. I just want to overcome that innate desire to own places ? to possess them and keep them.

I want to wander this earth like a wind, sweeping, swirling, rising and falling. Only someday to blow away and be gone, without a trace. I don’t think that’s possible. But no one can stay forever, so why keep things as if I could? We all seem to have a desire to leave something that will last and be remembered, and many have tried, fruitlessly. Why build an empire to be left to decay, crumbling to pieces like that of the great Khan, imperial Rome or the derelict Ozymandias? The only thing that will last is the people, the love and warmth given to them, or the lack thereof. We need to focus on the things that last.

Christ himself said,

“Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head”(Matt. 8:20).

Why should we live so different from that of our example? Why do we have such a rampant desire to hold, to keep and to collect? The earth is ours, but we are all just strangers passing through. Some will build their mansions, but like castles on the beach, it isn’t long before the lapping waves eat these walls to sand, washing them away with the tide of time. Leaving at best, a dimple in the sand the following morning, and this too soon is gone as well.

I don’t mean to argue that everyone should sell their homes, or never own anything. However, I do think that we need to seriously consider the choices we make in our day to day lives and think critically about the importance we place on things and places, not just following the norms of our society, but living a life with purpose. I want to make this a reality in my life, and it will be a daily struggle to do so.

Job says it so well when he writes,

“Naked I came from my mothers womb, and naked I shall return”(1:21).

If only we always kept this in mind. My fear is that in time, as pressures and worries flood in, I will forget this. I will find myself surrounded by things I swore I would never have, and treasuring these useless objects. I pray it won’t be so. I just have to remember to keep my eyes focused on the example.

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Brushing Teeth

I think it pays to have a perspective shift in your life every once in a while. This friday, after my usual shift of working at the coffee shop downtown, and a quick bubble tea with a friend, I hopped on a bus and headed over to my relatives house to baby sit for them while they went to watch a hockey game. I had planned to do a bit of homework that night, but I figured I probably wouldn’t have done it anyway, and baby sitting sounded like a much better idea.

When I got there I wolfed down my Vietnamese sub sandwich (which I had gotten along with the bubble tea downtown) and soon after a bit of briefing and the bustle of parents leaving, I was left with the three kids watching a tv show in the living room. It was fairly late as it was, and because Josiah, the four-year-old was sick, bedtime was very soon in coming. Before long it was time to shut off the tv and tromp our way upstairs. Josiah picked out a story to read, which happened to be Monsters Inc. 3D. I wasn’t quite sure if it was helpful pre-bedtime reading, since he had to wear these silly 3D glasses while I read the fastest and most anticlimactic synopsis of Monsters Inc. – ten pages of character development, one page of conflict and a page to wrap it all off with a nice ending.

After this, I had been told that I would have to brush Josiah’s teeth before he went to bed. I had never brushed any teeth before, so I have to say I was a little unsure about how it was going to go. Josiah walked into the bathroom, and after perching himself on a stool, facing the sink, simply looked at me in the mirror. “So, I guess its time to brush your teeth.” I opened up the drawer to find a toothbrush, and soon received the run down on the teeth brushing. I was shown the hourglass (or two minute glass), used to make sure that we brushed the teeth long enough, and was told who’s toothbrush was who’s and which toothpaste to use for little Julia, as well as which to use for Josiah.

Then it was time to start brushing. The last memories I have of parents brushing their children’s teeth was from my own parents. I can remember my dad scratching away at my teeth so hard that I was worried I wouldn’t have anything left but nice shiny clean bones by the time he was done! So with this torture in mind, I began very slowly, trying to peer into Josiah’s mouth to see the tiny rows of teeth I was supposed to clean. The two minutes seemed to drag on forever, and at times I thought maybe the sand had just gotten stuck in the glass, and that I would be standing there brushing forever. However, it did finally end, and after some spitting and rinsing, I soon had Josiah in bed, but not before he reminded me that he was supposed to go to the bathroom before he went to sleep. I’m glad the kids know what they’re doing!

Next was Julia, the smiling little one year old, just beginning to say a few words. Jenna, the oldest made sure that I had gotten everything done with Josiah before I took Julia upstairs as well. “You brushed his teeth?”
“Yep.”
“And he went to the bathroom?”
Thanks to him. “Yep.”
“Good.”

And so I had the approval of six-year-old Jenna, and could move on to putting Julia to bed. Again thanks to Josiah I knew which toothpaste was Julia’s, and I guessed the smallest white toothbrush was probably hers too. This time I was even more careful. At first I could hardly tell if I was brushing teeth at all! But soon I found her little teeth, which seemed to have a habit of biting down on the toothbrush and slowing down the process. However, we soon got them all brushed, and after a short bedtime story, I laid her in the crib with all her things, and left her to sing to herself.

Jenna and I watched another ten minutes of tv before she went up as well, thankfully to brush her own teeth. And after some Earth Day education from Clifford, her lights were turned off as well, and with all three doors shut, the rituals of putting the kids to bed were finished. I was surprised at how I was, especially since it was only 8 pm. I only wished that it was me getting tucked into my bed.

And so ended my first real baby sitting experience. I was just glad that I didn’t have to change a diaper, thanks to the fact that Julia filled it just before her parents left. The girl has an excellent sense of timing! The whole evening was extremely refreshing in a way; such a good break from the life of a young college student. It made me excited for being a Dad someday. I know I dread that at the same time – but it really was such a nice time. Thank God for all the Dads and all their hard work.

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Don’t Slam the Toilet Seat!

Coming into this year of living in residence, I had very few worries about how I would get along with my flat-mates and the problems associated with four young men living in close proximity. Being that I had spent time with almost twenty boys in dorms, for a great portion of my school life, I figured there wasn’t much that I hadn’t faced before and worked through. However, this has not always been the case.

The guys and I get along fine. We have no reason’s for getting angry at each other or anything of the sort, which is such a blessing. But I find that often it’s the little things in life that seem to pain me most. I’ve never had a plank or anything of the sort get under my fingernails, yet the tiniest sliver seems able to make its way in at times dig deep at a nerve. It makes me worried about marriage in a way. That perhaps it will be these same little things that get under my skin and drive me crazy.

Do you really have to let the toilet seat slam when you put it back down? Why can’t you let it down gently? And why do you leave the dishcloth sitting in the sink after you’ve done the dishes? It never dries that way and pretty soon it will get smelly if you keep doing that. And do you have to make such a racket taking out the dishes in the morning when some others are sleeping? And why is it you have to stomp so loud on your way around the house and back from the bathroom in the morning? Why, why, why?

Thankfully, these little annoyances in life are just that: very little. They are certainly not something I would ever explode over. I’m sure someday, when I’m married, it will be these little things that will drive me crazy, if I don’t drive my wife crazy first. But it’s comforting to know that these are just small frictions that come hand in hand with sharing space. They aren’t an excuse for the outbreak of World War III.

There are parts of life that you just have to get used to. You learn love, forgive, and to live through these differences and make for the best. I suppose that’s what family is all about.

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Books: My Vice

My grandma helps out at a local thrift store here in Three Hills, run by a number of elderly volunteers from the community. Often, if I am around on break, I will go over with her and help to move some of the larger things, before busying myself with sorting the various books that come in. Unfortunately, while it is a truly enjoyable experience, it’s very dangerous for me. I will rarely make it out of there at the end of the morning without a small stack of books I decided to keep. As a result, I have a slowly growing library on the shelves beside my bed and I dread the day I will ever have to move.

Considering my plans for the future, sometimes I fear I may never be able to enjoy my books at all. I’m not even sure if I will ever own a house in Canada, and therefore will have no place to put them. Or if I do ever buy a house here, the reality is that most of my years will probably be spent away from it. However, I won’t let it get in my way. If I ever have to give up my books, I really won’t mind losing most of them. I do hope I will have some place to keep them, but if not, perhaps they’ll serve a purpose as firewood someday. So, with the recent talk of zombie apocalypse or other global catastrophes, I will be prepared. If the sun freezes over, there’s plenty of books in my room to keep a fire going and at least survive long enough to make a cool movie of it. And if a tyrannical dictator shows up and all the books in the world are being burned and destroyed, don’t tell anyone, but I have enough Bibles to supply a small multilingual church.

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Dishes, Dry Yourselves

I’m not quite sure what psychological phenomenon happened to me when I was young, but I hate drying dishes.

When I was younger and would have to wash the dishes at home, I think I hardly ever dried the dishes at all. In fact, I think I could probably count on my fingers the amount of times I dried the dishes. And I think I could even carry that over to putting the dishes away. How did that happen?

When I recollect my various times of doing the dishes, I remember someone would always clear the dish rack for me while I ran the water. It was not because I was unable to, but I always remember wither my mum or my dad telling me that they would clear the dish rack for me while I started. I can hardly remember a time when I actually had to put the dishes away.

Another factor that played into my strange dish-washing psychology is the fact that we have a huge dish-rack at our house. Large, and with three levels, one hardly had reason to run out of space for dishes and, if planned well, one could cram a piles of dishes into the space that was there. Besides, on rack, the dishes simply dried themselves, by no effort my own.

And so, somehow, from these various elements that made up my dish washing history, I spawned an aversion to drying dishes. I really don’t mind to wash them – in fact I find it a relaxing, almost therapeutic exercise – just don’t ask me to dry them.