Verbiage

I am tired of words. Like my trucker friend Nikolai once said after an episode of our boss trying to explain his paycheque to him, “Vords vords, dey explain nothing.  Da more he talk da more I don't know”.  Well I tend to agree with him, and this came to mind shortly after my mother died and my wife and I were privileged to be on a cruise (previously planned).  After several days 'at sea' at end of one grueling social day I came up with this, as typed out on my trusty laptop.  

"Today I have heard endless words duplicated, triplicated and then repeated complete with rabbit trails off in obtuse directions chosen by whoever has mouth open!  I have heard deciphering of schedules, evaluating of staff attitudes, comparisons of this cruise with previous cruises, gossip about fellow church members, health and death of family members, grandchildren's problems in school, possibility of us being relatives as per recent DNA swab, etc, etc, etc.  New friends we meet are treated to portions of stories and/or conversations just completed, and of course I am obliged to listen to those reworkings of the recent history.  Words, words, words."

I do not know why I get so weary of verbiage.  My wife tells me, at least when we are in argumentative mode, that I easily contribute more than my share to this surplus.  Furthermore, a new friend of mine (He does not know me very well!) recently dubbed me as an extrovert - without even consulting with me on said touchy diagnostic!  And, and also I realize our Bible gives a very positive angle on words, eg “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1). The very presence of the written Word requires words, first in oral tradition, then early text written in Hebrew, then Aramaic, Greek, and...?  (Enter here a few paragraphs by some scholars I can think of). Words are important in communication, but dammit, words that are a mere expression of restlessness are a vexation to the flesh!

As indicated above, this incident of verbal overload happened shortly after my mom had died.  It also reminds me of the viewing at the funeral home the evening before mom's funeral.  A number of my siblings came to visitation.  Several of them chose not to come - something that still irritates me.  I find their callousness very hard to understand or even tolerate, but I digress.  Standing by the casket, I squirmed with discomfort as several of my siblings indulged their hearty personas to the extent of noisy greetings, hearty hugs, handshakes and even hearty laughs with all who appeared.  Me, I just cried and wanted to cry more, and when that urge went away, I just wanted quiet.   So, choosing a front pew I did just that - sit and think.  Lo and behold, as tho a validation from Above, I gained the comforting presence of my youngest son.  With a little smile he sat down beside me.  I gave his knee a gentle squeeze.  So very nice, he knew my unspoken thoughts.  How can anybody keep yapping when your mother is laying before you in the casket?  I found that noisy verbiage almost as offensive as those of my siblings who did not show up.

So this is perhaps a bit too personal for a blog.   However, I share it here in hope that whoever reads it may understand and respect.  Blog posts in my mind represent a dignified way of expressing thoughts or insights.  Yes? No?   At any rate I am more comfortable posting this here than submitting to Facebook likes or dislikes!  As written elsewhere, my venture back into the trucking world after years of public profile is also a factor.  Privacy eventually became important for this public person - hence my two million miles as a single operator rather than a team driver.  And of course in this particular example there is grief.  I loved my mom so dearly that I did not like her spirit to be sported with.  

  

It is important to be hospitable of spirit. People cruise for many reasons (some because they  have too much money!), and everybody has a unique way of processing and communicating personal needs and agenda.  And the very fact that I was an anonymous passenger on that cruise ship also helped to subside the grief a bit. We are indeed social beings.  We do need one another.  No Man is an Island, said Thomas Merton in the book of that title in 1955.  And of course so says my Bible,  Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it. Hebrews 13:2, and also Be kind to one another, tenderhearted forgiving ... as God in Christ has forgiven you.  Ephesians 4:32.

So, patience in the noise, yes.  And hospitality of spirit, yes.  But even so, back to my friend Nikolai,  "Vords, vords."  If you got nothing to say, it's best to just be quiet.  

British Bulldog

August 14, 2018

I had not thought this could happen inside my circle of friends and acquaintances.  In my recently retired trucking world it might have, but not here in my community!  I believe I am observing racism – out and out racism, not just a bit of prejudice.  And this not in the deep southern U.S. nor in a school playground somewhere, but right before my eyes among senior citizens in our city of Calgary!  It happens regularly three days a week in the locker room of one of our local swimming pools. 

Last fall I began deep water acquasize classes together with a friend of mine.  Our reason was camaraderie, he recently diagnosed with Parkinson’s and I in need of some routine morning discipline after retirement from my latest occupation.  The acquasize is excellent.  We do it together and we know we both benefit from the discipline three mornings a week. We need each other.

First day in the locker room I also met a little guy, with a scar from his yin yang down there all the way up to his throat, compliments of open-heart surgery some years back.  Kind of friendly, he engages in early small talk – weather, snow on the roof, water temp irregularities, etc.  The acquasize circle kind of waxes and wanes depending on holiday and snowbird wants and wishes.  After all, I am among respectable mostly well-heeled citizens.  Conversation is usually subdued, primary topic with several of us being to double check on commitment to stop at Tim Hortons on the way home. That’s where our freshly exercised fellowship really takes off!

Well, there is one other guy, big belly, clippy English accent, always late, and always haughty.  He will not look at me, and he will not talk to me!  I hear him make brief comments to the little guy and a few others, and then in the pool a group of ladies and a couple of men, also English accents – jokes, smiles, etc.  No attention to the instructor when they get going.  I know now that he is not deaf mute; he just has a well defined circle – or is it a harem?  

I have no need or desire to join that circle.  However, being a relational person I believe in the casual courtesies of hello, good bye, etc.  Double check with my friend Peter; he confirms no conversation also not yet with Mr. Proud.  Then another guy, a Scandinavian, shares he has yet to receive a hello from same.

One day a classroom of elementary students come in, most of them dark skinned, and a cheery articulate dark-skinned teacher supervising locker room instructions to the little boys as teachers are wont to.  Scowl from Mr. English!  A few days later another group of kids. This time a smile!  Kids all around, he almost looks cheery. The reason for persona turnabout?  These kids are white, and this time the teacher is a young Englishman.  A bit of further research confirms my growing suspicion. They are from one of Calgary’s elite private schools!

Then it strikes me; all my conversations to date have been with the Khams and the Jens and the Chows and John and Peter  – probably Dutch or German or Chinese or Mennonite or ...?   Mr Haughty speaks not to any of these - only to those he deems worthy.  Mr Little Guy qualifies kind of, probably because they recognize same accent from same town in the UK, so the occasional grunt is warranted.

Our daughter has a best friend, also English, and they attended the High School next door to this swimming pool.  From the stories I heard, Laura pushed against the edges of her parents’ and her grandmother's comfort zone and became best buds with this interesting good looking Metis girl who had been adopted by Mennonite parents.  By now, twenty-five years later, their friendship has weathered the social mores, the class wars, the wedding of one of them (maid of honour the other one), education, careers and the birth of Laura’s two children. Those two kids love their mom and their dad (also adopted in an interesting family situation) and Auntie Adrianne.  As the minister who officiated at their wedding, I delight to observe the possibilities when friendships blossom even through stereotypical fences.  Friendships can do amazing things.  This is how I grew up; this is the way my children have grown up.  We relate with people no matter who or where from.  Galatians 3:28 says it clearly,  There is no longer Jew or Greek, no longer slave or free, ... male and female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus (NRSV). This was practiced, even if not much preached in our home.  And I suppose this explains my indignation at this prude.

Very likely this man is stuck in the colonial mindset.  Maybe his bride is dead by now, or possibly PTSD or some war time trauma?  Maybe he thinks we are all Nazis.  Or maybe he just never learned that this country of Canada has room for more than our Commonwealth of Nations.  His day is coming.  He will soon die and the one who takes his place in this neighbourhood will likely not be from that English village, and may well be from Jordan, or Syria, or Russia, or maybe Baltimore, MD.  British exclusivity is over!

Accident

Many years ago, for a considerable portion of time, I was a long haul trucker.  Now in my retirement I am trying to give some attention to reading, re-reading, editing and organizing a whole bunch of incidents, thoughts, and stories I wrote during those wide open highway years.  I happened upon this one, amazingly similar in theme to the last blog I posted but a week ago (The Need to Die, April 23, 2020).  Written seventeen years ago, and a totally different occasion, it seems to me my thinker still processes things in a similar way. Similar theme, yes?

July 1, 2003

                                                   ACCIDENT

  

There are occasions that absolutely demand I pull laptop off the top shelf and use it to full convenience - like right now.  Trucking mostly means go go, keep that load-a-moving, no time for creative writing!  Now I have time!  Here I sit in a humongous highway back-up - apparently an accident up ahead.

What to do when you can't go!  I suppose I could pull the Bible out, but that would mean I’d need to give it some attention. Okay I'll just confess the commoners reason for lack of Bible reading. So often when I have a few minutes to read or write the beginning impetus is a magazine or newspaper which grabs your attention, or an idea percolating in your head which just must be written down right now; i.e. the momentary stimulus must be grabbed or at least recorded.  Seemingly that’s more important than starting with a blank mind which might be available for whatever the Bible might offer.  At any rate oft-times there is a reason why it simply is more important or opportune to do something else!  To whit this occasion.  Sorry Bible; I’ll read you tonight.

Now to the accident, the reason for my sitting here.  The CB rumor mill says 4 or 5 hours wait, a five car pile-up and apparently two dead.  This is grim information.  Fascinating though, the conversations start and then on and on about who or what type of idiot weekend driver probably caused it, how long it’s going to take, and whether or not there is parking space at a truck stop which just happens to be in proximity, just beyond the accident scene.  The thoughts about lives ended and likely personal trauma are not talked about (although each person in this line-up probably has some private thoughts about this).  We are a people of deflection.  Many times we talk about that which is superfluous.  Why is this the case, when in actual fact many of us would probably be relieved to enter into conversation about LIFE even with a stranger?

As the weekend travelers spill out of vehicles to stretch, chat, smoke or eat it must be noted that suddenly we are all people - big, little, fat, fit, pretty or ugly.  Suddenly we are all together standing at the roadside, rather than competing vehicles hurtling down the highway – very likely the cause of the accident which has brought about this occasion.

Without bringing this to any profound (or otherwise!) conclusion, I simply end this by noting; maybe we should think more respectfully at all times of the inhabitants of the thousands of vehicles we meet.  Then maybe, just maybe we would have fewer accidents.  I think it’s time to go read my Bible! 

 


 

The Need to Die

In a recent blog post ("Into my Room" March 27, 2020) I promised to present my ideas in a strident forthright manner.  I also made reference to a likely occasional critique of things around me.  Well, this is one of those occasions.  And just by way of further introduction to the subject at hand, please be assured I am not in a bad mood, just kind of thoughtfully indignant - concerned that we are not quite getting it yet.

Coronavirus social distancing is creating quite the posts, quite the rants, quite the tears, quite the laughs, quite the inspiration, quite the church services, quite the business and administrative changes, many government updates, etc.  On my daily walk (average about 10,000 steps) a few blocks from my house two days ago I read a hand-printed message in a living room window.  This post was slightly beyond the colloquial "We're in this together" hype.  It was kind of lengthy but catchy!  Enough to get me walking up their sidewalk for a nice read.  Once started it took me in.  We are reaping the consequence of lifestyle to date, it read, and therefore this pandemic.  Then in addition to the urge to stay two meters apart and to cooperate with officials it concluded with "Think healthy and think deeply in your home, and if you have a home, be glad".  It was not glitzy, not pessimistic, not religious - just neighborly!

Enter my opinion.  Many of us are doing what is required, yes, but in our minds still hiding in the thickets. If the weather is pleasant there's backyard work to do.  If we need groceries most of us have the means, if a break is needed we hop in car or pickup or SUV (gas is cheap) and just do it.  And of course we can encourage one another with Zoom meetings, WhatsApp messages, Zoom birthday parties, parking lot coffee times.  Our conversations are an adjustment of the normal and some acknowledgment that we seem to be into something new.  And then we go on and on and on about that, without addressing a little more.  We are such avoiders as we prattle on about lame over-used political or religious or whatever worn out points of view!


What is really on our minds?  I think some of us, perhaps many of us, are actually thinking about the possibility of dying.  Yes, you or I.  Is it perhaps a good thing for us to die in order for the earth to be healed?  I have mentioned it several times recently, and this usually met by shocked silence or a quick positive-thinking-type negation, "Oh no, we don't want to think that way".  Okay, but why not think that way?  News clippings of Wuhan, China, indicate that after that viral epidemic with many deaths, and dealt with by a total industrial shutdown, the sky is now clearing and the birds are singing.  Just saying, just asking,  "The grass withers, the flowers fade" so we read in Isaiah 40 and in the New Testament a further reflection, "All flesh is like grass" (1 Peter 1:24). We are but a part of this creation. Check the first chapter in your Bible.

Back to the message on my neighbor's window; what is wrong with saying it as it is and then an invitation to consider possibilities. Even if not religious on that window, I am led to reflect on the meaning of Life.  Why not, even as you say thank you to medical professionals and essential workers doing their absolute best to serve us, also think about the Giver and Receiver of Life?  I have Muslim and Christian and Indigenous friends, all of who are ready to say that even as we reap the consequences of our lifestyle, there is a larger vantage than the scientific or political.  I happen to know many professionals - and some of them essential workers  right now - who are the first to admit they do not have the tools to fix this one.  Prayers, and large considerations are welcomed.  My main point here?  It is indeed absolutely essential for human beings (apparently those who have dominion) to speak with other human beings residing on this planet earth.  Environment and health crises, politics, and religion, all required at the table.

These Kyoto-G7 United Nations type conversations of course are easier at international conventions and board meetings than at family dinners or church services or in small town watering holes or coffee shop talk.  In those circles (and I have tried it) if I broach the above perspective I feel the anxiety, "What?  Why does he consort with those 'others'? Why does he think things like that?  He's a preacher, does he still believe?"  In other words, in our habitat we are still inclined to the tried and true.  Do I still believe?  Yes, I believe.  I believe enough to appreciate my neighbor's post on his front window.  I believe enough to recognize the pain and horror of many a war fought for territory (read aboriginal or colonial history).  I believe enough to know that no country or ideology is strong or pure enough to force itself on a whole planet.  AND I also know the one Healer who 'pitched his tent among us' (John 1:14).  He walked the roads between Jerusalem and Galilee, teaching, proclaiming, praying and teaching to pray, enduring misunderstandings and ridicule, and well-meaning disciples who followed only partially understanding.  All this among the people's search for a messiah - political and/or religious.  This One died for his troubles, and then he lives again (read my post "Corona Easter", April 12, 2020).  This one is Jesus my Savior (Galatians 2:20).  This one is also Jesus my Lord.  In other words, I am a Jesus follower.  So what would Jesus do?  As his follower I need to pray about that.  I need to think quietly in my room, in my back yard, in my truck (social distancing of course).

About a year ago I was speaking with a good friend who at one time was chairperson of the congregation I was pastor of.  This conversation obviously before even a hint of Covid-19.  "Rudy, what's priority these days?  If I were to say heaven and earth will pass away, what would that mean to you?"  His response came in the same way I remember him many years ago.  "People are not going to survive," he says. "But the earth is.  So I like to honor the earth and our God for at least as long as I live."  And then he smiled.  And I smiled too!

The engineer and the preacher.  He was always ready to hear what the preacher might say, but not to the point of anxiety about my orthodoxy.  And then quite often I would listen to his unorthodoxy. 😀 I sought his common sense logic in many situations.  We enjoyed working together.  Today he offers a wisdom which helps my corona perspective.  And "whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's" (Romans 14:8).

Many thoughts from my room these days.  Indeed it's much more than just social distancing.  There's some good news to be nurtured in here!  Nothing morbid about a possibility of death.  I can live with that!  And if a vaccine is discovered soon, it will be well for a population to move forward having given some thought to this, and a little more ready to die. 

The Very Hairs

 I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from? 
 My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.  Psalm 121:1,2

 And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  Matthew 10:30

Here is an insight I would not have discovered, had it not been for Covid-19 and the opportunity (?) to stay in my house quite a bit.  I am learning to paint pictures - beautiful ones at that!  Take a look at these two samples.

I am awestruck by the almost majesty of this click-by-number mountain.  It took about two hours - approximately 1000 taps - to apply the 95 different colors on my iPhone.  Also required was an extra treatment of eyedrops to finally behold the finished product out there.  As my masterpiece appears my imagination takes me to the Kicking Horse Pass, westbound somewhere around Golden, BC.  I am back in my truck on one of those many trips on Highway 1 through the beautiful Rocky Mountains, ever changing, ever the same, always beautiful right there on the border between Alberta and British Columbia.  The view is so stunning I do not even mind the possibility of putting on tire chains on the way back.

Similarly, my delight with the other sample.  I love the warmth of grandma sitting in her chair while her little boy plays with blocks.  Those hair!  I marvel at the IT people who create software programs that respect the very hairs of the head.  A headful of grey is not grey, but mixtures of blue, green, grey, brown, white, red, black!  Similarly a boy's blond locks also not merely yellow.  Oh, and also I realize that whole mountainside would need different colors were it another time of day.  This must be art, and thanks to the ColorMe app I have become a creator!

Details. Details!  I could wax eloquent now perhaps about the Creator, or about our use of time, as I am inclined to, but this time I spare you my philosophizing or theologizing.   I close with some words from my daughter when she noticed I was getting satisfaction from this clicking.  Speaking to her mother she says,  "This is neat, dad has discovered color, the beauty of painting.  He likes colors; he's learning, just like you and me mom".  😊