Lucky 13

There is something about the sunshine.

I love it.

I can't get enough of it.

With the ongoing chinook winds blowing their way through the city, the lunar landscape of our residential streets have only increased their appetites for swallowing unsuspecting travellers.

I was burning off some fibromyalgia anxiety via manic house cleaning. 

The sound found its way to me as I put the finishing touches on the front entrance, my audible Bat Signal came through the door and alerted me to a motorist in distress. 

Opening the door I could see the Ford Taurus waggon wedged in a massive snow drift... on someones lawn. The tires shrieked out against their icy prison as I grabbed my trusty steel shovel and made my way down the steps and across the street. My new friend picked his head up with considerable effort, looked at me and smiled through his exhaustion, I gave a "hello" nod and went to work clearing the front end of the car. After much frozen frustration had been excavated and a handful of attempts, another new friend emerged from the young man's house with hands full of cardboard. We continued our digging efforts, wedged the cardboard under the tires, pushed as tires spun and repeated a half dozen times before we were given the victory over old man winter. Handshakes and thanks were exchanged, I helped tidy up the cardboard mess and as I headed back home I couldn't help but feel that I was the one who was blessed for the experience. 

If I had to say one thing about this winter so far, it would be that its punishing delivery of immense snowfall has introduced me to my neighbours. 

When Warren owned and operated The Attic, he met countless people, if lives were dollar bills, Warren was a multi-millionaire.

I see life as stories, your story, my story, their story, stories surround us, fascinating stories are pouring out around us and if we don't slow down to experience them we will go through this life bankrupt - regardless of what our bank account balance.

I am a story addict.

It is this passion for stories that drives my ministry. 

Connecting people's stories to God's story.

Consider your story for a moment, or rather your stories, in all their fragmented wonder. Have you ever thought to put them down? Scrawl them out in pieces as they come to you, try to approximate when they happened but write them down. 

Years from now, your great, grandchildren can pick up those fragmented stories and walk hand in hand with you through the story that is your life... you will live forever through your stories. Don't let ego stop you, your stories are just as wonderful and inspiring and heartbreaking and joy filled as any "celebrity" if not more so. 

So this is my story of lucky number 13, it's not exciting, maybe it was for my snow stranded neighbour as he saw that people do care about him, even those who have not met him.

My apologies for the ebb in my creative flow, these past few days have been very challenging and thus put a straining drain on my already limited story weaving capabilities. 

I finished the planning of the balance of the youth ministry, stick handling my way around limited human resources, brainstorming engaging evening events within the borders of the church building, and as planned I encountered the "long-view" of leadership. 

I had such lofty goals when I took this part-time pastorate, imagining a pike of dry kindling roaring to life with a single spark... life seldom works out that way. 

It's probably for the better. 

I doubt I'd appreciate an easy go of it... my ego would seek the credit when the credit is due to a much higher office. 

Next time you're frustrated and looking for a soft wall to introduce your head to, stop, stop and think to yourself, "this is going to turn out awesome; disappointment and hardship happen quickly and easily but contentment, joy, satisfaction and peace take time and effort." 

C.S. Lewis said "friendship is born the moment one person says to another, "what!? you too? I thought I was the only one." 

11 and 12

Whenever the snow flies I see RAKs piling up on sidewalks and driveways.

I had a meeting with my Senior Minister today and chose to walk rather than drive the few blocks over and rather than simply trodden my way thorough the blanket of white, I opted to shovel my way and cleared the entire sidewalk from my front door to the church, including the path to the church door. After an encouraging and uplifting visit with the Minister I made my way back home only to find that that snow had kicked up again.... allot. I couldn't believe it. The nerve, the unmitigated gall of  the frozen flakes to cover up the RAK I just killed myself to create. So. Yeah. I had only one option left. Shovel my way back. I enjoyed a couple curious glances as people saw me continue past many houses, likely wondering which one I would walk into.

After a spirited adventure of snow clearing I was spent, fibro was in full flare, it was worth it, so I took threw back some pain killers and set down for some light reading on church revitalisation, thrilling stuff, yes? no? Well as much as I enjoy studying church dynamics I nodded off only to awaken in time to go greet my daughter after school, and as I open the door and when I stepped out into the bright sunlight reflected from the snowfall my eyes widened in horror and disbelief... the snow kept falling and though it was thankfully finished, I had one more run to complete. Shovelling my way to the school and back I felt a nudge to clear a random driveway... and I listened. I figured it was Warren tapping me on my shoulder, "hey, how about that house over there? wouldn't it be a kick if they came home to a shovelled driveway?" So I went to town, cleared the driveway and went home with a great big sack of RAK.

Just before sitting down to write this I read a post on the Facebook wall for 50RAK and smiled at a posting by a couple who had returned home, not looking forward to shovelling, only to find their driveway shovelled. As rough as I feel now I have to say that creating that feeling in someone else is priceless.

I would like to close with something that has been on my mind for a while now.

Some people are hesitant to be part of this movement, they feel it somehow seeks glory for your RAK by sharing it, but it doesn't... ok maybe some people are into that, but the inspiration, the motivation and the flow of something positive into you is more than enough to outweigh those seeking attention. For example, just this past weekend I was waiting for one of my daughters outside of her gymnastics class when I saw a young woman come to the doors with a cart filled with boxes of boxes, she took one pack and made her way to the recycling container a couple hundred feet away... than it happened. Warren tapped me on the shoulder and said, "hey, grab those other boxes and give her a hand" and so I did. The poor girl look totally confused when she saw me walk by with the rest of her load, now if it wasn't for this movement, I would've continued to read in the van waiting. There is enough negative garbage running through your Facebook feed, bitter sarcasm, biting cynicism, heated angry comments, passive aggressive postings, all negative and I think back to an elementary science experiment where we put a white flower in red food die only to watch that flower turn pink, then red... what do you think happens when you put your roots into negativity? make a pledge to put your roots into positivity that the flowers and fruit of your life may be love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self control.

Peace be with you and act through you.

Receiving 1

So I'm going to expand the sharing of my mental drippings into the kindness others have done for me.

I suffer from, and suffering is an understatement, from fibromyalgia. In my early 20's I began experiencing chronic pain, my family Dr figured it was arthritis as pit runs in by my parent's families. The pain grew and I saw a nearly endless parade of Dr's before being diagnosed by a rheumatologist. My pain is managed by a barrage of medication which has become a tremendous burden as I'm unemployed, the $200 per month has caused me to skip doses in order to extend my supply. 

I was visiting my family Dr recently and shared my burden with her to which she advised me that some pharmaceutical companies offer compassionate funding for patients put forward by their physician to which she said she would like to do this for me, she went into her office and returnd with a form she asked me to complete and leave with her before our appointment was complete to ensure it would be submitted in a timely manner. 

There are few people more busy and overextended than physicians and going the extra mile can come back in a negatives way for them, but she did, she went the extra mile for me. I am thankful for her act of kindness and look forward to sharing more of these moments with you.

Be good to one another out there, we are all on the same journey of life, let us hold up and encourage our fellow travellers.

9 and 10

"Wanna go to the library?"

Most of my conversations with my twin brother start and end this way.

My twin brother is my best friend, I can't imagine life without him in it.

We have gone through seasons where we were apart from one another.

I was in Georgia for a little bit.

He was in Dallas for a longer bit.

He was back and forth from Edmonton.

I was in Sherwood Park.

I was in Lac La biche.

But we are both in Calgary now.

We have gone stretches where we haven't spoke to one another.

But we always pick up where we left off.

I don't know if it's a "twin thing" because I've never not been a twin.

And I don't want to.

Not be a twin that is.

As I'm writing, I'm thinking of a song that reminds me of my brother, I think it's title is "open windows" by the punk band "Face to Face" and do you think I can find it on YouTube? No. All I get is Windows OS crap... or a dog riding in a convertible.

My brother and I have been through a whole lot of life together; most recently we were both laid off and sent into the limbo hell of job hunting. People say that Alberta is paradise and unemployment is near zero, anyone who wants to work is work, that is people with jobs are saying this, I personally know a number of skilled, experienced and educated people who would strongly disagree with such a Pollyanna statement. 

Working two highly part time jobs (10 hrs per week between both) and collecting a portion of my past EI contributions is tight... really tight. Like an old bottle of nail-polish tight.... I have three daughters, one of my designated "daddy jobs" is to open the multitude of cemented shut nail-polish bottles. Money is tight, and with that my brother is left wanting for the 2014 rendition of the Calgary Comic Expo, he's actually been left wanting for the Calgary Comic Expo for a few years now, which is criminal for someone of his comic-geek passion. 

My empty recyclable drinking container collection suddenly started to look like a Calgary Comic Expo ticket, so after some selfies with my empties I took a little trip, or two and found myself with a ticket for my super cool bro. Ok, I was kidding about the selfies, but it is going to be fun to know my bro is taking in an annual pilgrimage he has been shut out of for far too long.

So that's number 9 but it's also a RAK for me, a big RAK for me.

Number 10 turned up a the library with my bro.

We had scoured the stacks from some sweet finds and I nabbed a copy of MacWorld and a little book on Google ad words and as I bellied up to the self-checkout I noticed the woman who had just walked away had forgotten her card in the machine. With my Spidey-sense tingling RAK I grabbed the card and ran after the woman and her daughter, and if you know me, you know I don't run unless I'm being chased... or chasing, it's really for the best, nobody wants to see me run. "Excuse me, you left your library card" the woman turned with a puzzled look and then smiled and thanked me after taking her card. As a Calgary Public Library power user, I know the pain of having lost your card, you tear the house apart, APART, looking for it, you even clean the car and finally go into the library to ask if you left it there. It's not a fun experience. Kind of like when you don't know where you left your phone and you continually call it, running room to room with your head cocked at and odd angle as if you're tuning in rabbit ears to the sound of your phone vibrating or ringtone - of you're lucky, but really, you're not that lucky. 

So there you are.

9 and 10.

And I find that my typically cynical heart has started to turn into something different. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a curmudgeon of a muppet, but I'm inching towards the light.

So if you're reading this, and haven't fallen asleep yet, consider making tiny changes in your life and letting people go ahead of you at the store or in traffic, asking a co-worker if they want a coffee top-up when you make your way to the caffeine shrine or not getting your loonie back when you put the shopping cart back. A single small rock isn't much, but stack enough of them together and you can build a castle. Go and build a kingdom with your Random Acts of Kindness.

6, 7 and 8

Kindness is an orientation, or at least it can become one. 

Many years ago I met Trevor Dech, owner and head instructor at Too Cool Motorcycle School. Trevor said many powerful things during the classroom portion of the training, things which have stuck with me to this day, one being:

Look to be pleasantly surprised, as a car passes you, assume they are going to cut you off and be ready for it - if they don't, you'll be pleasantly surprised.

There are very few places with more opportunity for RAK than behind the wheel of your vehicle, a point not wasted on me as of late. 

Heading south on Sarcee Trail towards the main traffic artery of Crowchild Trail on my way to work at church I find myself instinctively checking my rear view mirror for the jumping duck; those who jump up mad speed the outside lane only to duck and cut off into the exit ramp lane they knew wanted at the back of the line. A little Subaru screams up alongside me and I slow to allow them to take the exit ramp ahead of me. Now, should you be the recipient of such a RAK, you can shoot one back with a thank-you wave... I didn't get one. 

Driving with a RAK orientation is much less stressful as you look for people to let in front of you. 

As I approach the church I saw another Subaru trapped in a lane that ended, only the vehicles in the continuing lane we're not moving over, forcing my friend I'm the little blue hatch back to either side swipe into a car or drive into a concrete barricade, this was not their morning and so I slowed and allowed them to merge.

A person who is good to you but is a jerk in traffic isn't a good person.

I rolled into church feeling pretty mellow though saddened as I had taken a RAK to a dumb move as I quickly performed my morning ritual of emptying the dishwasher and in my hurry dropped a hand painted wine glass I bought my wife for Christmas. I could see the wince in my wife's face when she said "it doesn't matter." It did, and my heart felt yucky as I said my goodbyes to the lingering congregants ant church and headed to my car. 

"I just knew." Have you ever had that feeling? As though some force was guiding you to choose A over B? I know it well, and have bucked it on,y to fall flat on my face. I was feeling that, it was telling me to buy my bride a new glass. After fighting for a parking spot and engaging in numerous vehicular RAKs I gave my wife the new glass. While she said, "I wasn't mad" I knew she was hurt and I saw the hurt in her face and now I saw a little joy take its place.

RAK where you live and you'll find you live a happier life.

Driver trainers will tell you to get out of a skid you need to look to where you want to go and so as you go about your day for better or worse look for opportunities to share a RAK and know that each act resets your orientation to one of kindness.

4 and 5

There is nothing like a fresh snowfall to open up opportunities to be kind.

I have a golden retriever, Jackson; he is a ball dog to the end. Jackson has the uncanny ability to hear a ball being picked up, you could pick up a book, a coffee cup or a hat and he will lay there… a big gorgeous golden reddish carpet, his ears pouring like velvet onto the floor, lost in some deep dog thought. When a ball is picked up, unannounced, gently plucked from its resting place into your hand and it’s a cell phone ringing “sexy and I know it” in church, an mc calling wedding guests to the buffet, a lock tumbler turning on the electronics store door on boxing day – suddenly you see the hunting dog alert and at the read, eyes transfixed on the sphere of wonder in your hand. Is there a heaven for dogs? Why, yes there is, it’s the Chuckit! Factory.  Cock your hand back and the golden jet will launch with his head cocked towards the heavens looking for his precious, nothing will deter or dissuade him from his mission, not oncoming dogs, pedestrians or vehicles, he is transfixed and lost in the moment.

When white flakes begin their descent from heaven my ears start to tingle, my body grows restless and I come to attention like Jackson anticipating his ball, my eyes darting from shovel to walk shovel to walk shovel to walk… waiting for my moment to throw my 10lb snow boots on and launch into a shoveling frenzy.

I have a friend, one who I don’t really like, but is with me till the end, like it or not, and this friend is named – fibromyalgia. What is fibromyalgia? Pain. Pain set off by many things but quite strongly by physical exertion… like shoveling snow. You’d think screaming pain would be a strong deterrent but you probably haven’t seen Jackson stare at a ball.

Waking to a chorus of aches and pains from the typical erratic Calgary weather system and insomnia tried its best but I was up and out shoveling the block early in the morning. As I climbed up the steps to my porch I looked across the street and noticed my neighbors driveway was in need of shoveling. Across the street lives a wonderful woman whose husband’s immigration is still in limbo while she attends school and lives her with their two daughters as he remains in China, visiting once a year. I marched across the street, cleared her driveway and had a good chat with her, she has completed her veterinary tech schooling and hasn’t had any success in her job search, and sometimes it’s nice to have company, not finding steady employment isn’t one of them.

I think one of the really cool things about Warren was his ability to chat up anybody, literally anybody, this was a very valuable skill in running The Attic as you couldn’t help but be drawn back to the incredibly curious shop and it’s equally charming curator. One had to be careful what they wished for as they were sure to find it on their returning trip. As Jack Nicholson said in playing the Joker in the Batman movie, “where does he get those wonderful toys?”

If the ball is Jackson’s first love, the second is dog cookies. When he hears his cookie box rustle, slide or open he is at immediate attention. It’s become a fun ritual in giving Jackson a cookie, I tuck the biscuit into my pocket, pour myself a coffee, tidy the kitchen a little and the casually walk into the living room as if I totally forgot I had a pocket of puppy treat nirvana.  Jackson looks at me, his ears perked up, his head tilted, watching me like a commissioned cell phone sales clerk poised to leap on the first set of fingers to dance across the latest smarty pants phone. I then check my pockets as though I have forgotten where…. Where is that cookie? I know I had it here, aha! Found it. By the time I get the cookie out, Jackson has a string of elastic drool hanging down from his lip, swinging with the breeze but not breaking, his body vibrating as I hand him the cookie and he just slightly opens his mouth as if he’s afraid to bite it… then it’s gone in like 10 seconds. Literally. You can count it off.

I don’t know how to spell the sound of car tires spinning in snow and ice, but that sound, that is my cookie box, and tonight as my wife and my three daughters watched X Men First Class, I heard it. Someone was stuck. Someone was stuck in the snow. Someone was stuck, in the snow… on my block! I was very sore from the shoveling, the weather change, and the stress of – where and when am I going to get back to full time work… at one job? ONE job? So I let it go. My neighbor has a bizarre ritual where he spins his tires forward and backward, rocketing towards our van then back towards the little SUV behind him… over and over again. I once went to push him out, only to find – he’s crazy. It wasn’t him. I ignored it. Tried to. My wife said, “no, we have company tomorrow and if you go push him out, you’ll be in agony.” 10 or 15 minutes goes by and nobody has gone to help this guy. I am dumbfounded and I the need to go help is tearing me up inside, my wife says “go ahead.” I run out with two shovels and this guy has torched a good amount of his all season biscuits while he’s high centered on a pile of frozen nasty snow. I dig. He digs. I push. I drive and he pushes. I dig. He digs…. You get the idea. It has now become my mission to get his guy out, anything less is failure. An hour later and he gives up, shuts the car down, thanks me profusely and as we set to pack up show two cars drive by and this time people get out and we get behind this moored corolla and push as the 15 inch boots send smoke out the front of the boring but reliable econobox, and he is finally freed!

So I sit at the end of the day hammering out this blog update and I see a post by Warren’s daughter Bella, it’s on a bright pink sticky note, “50 is the minimum but change the world with more!” And I thought about Warren. And I thought about Bella. And I thought about Bella, losing her dad, losing her Superman and writing this note and I cried and as I write this now I’m crying again. Bella has more strength and more courage and more selfless heart in her tiny little body than I can possibly imagine. I look at that little pink post it note and all my complaints and worries come into perspective. Writ this down. Go get a rock and a chisel and write this down. Bella will change the world. Some cranky people bemoan the future generation and the future of the world. I think it’s going to be ok. God bless you Bella. God bless you Kai. God bless you Danielle. Thanks Warren, for being here even when you’re gone on ahead of us.

Two and Three

My Senior Minister and I went to Starbucks to discuss his upcoming sermon series over some delicious dark roast coffee. As we picked up our grande cups of goodness I noticed a Calgary Police Officer and something inside me said, "hey... here's your shot for an act of kindness, go thank him for his service, he puts his life out there to keep the city safe." You see, I admire our essential services people, fire, ems, emt, police, er, utilities personnel, search and rescue, these are not jobs but callings, they don't punch the clock on the button, they take real risks every day and I had always wanted to voice my admiration, only I didn't, until today. 

As my Senior Minister put some cream into his rooibos tea I made my way over to the officer, he was in the middle of working, writing something down when he looked up at me, I mustered up my courage and said, "I want to thank you, thank you for the work you do, the service you give every day, thank you very much," to which he replied, "thanks, that means a lot." I then quietly made my way back and sat down for my meeting.

Three. 

Three is personal but it is a blessing to be a part of a ministry that can make a real tangible difference in someone else's life.

Let me be clear about something, sharing this journey isn't to showcase deeds or to put on some great and gracious face because I'm neither of those two things. I struggle daily with hurts and offences, I battle the temptation to hurt those who hurt me, but sometimes, sometimes the words of Jesus can flower, "a new command I give you, love one another, as I have loved you, so you must love one another." Emphasis is mine and is needed. I love my wife, so I do things I know will bring her joy, every night I switch the washing machine to the dryer, every morning I empty the dishwasher, I pump her gas - she never has to get out in the cold or rain to pump her gas, I look for ways to bring joy to my wife's life... because I love her. Jesus was nailed to a tree. That's sacrifice, obedience, commitment, that's what this verse is talking about and it's the new command. This is the vision that every single person who claims the Christian faith needs their actions, thoughts, words... everything to flow through this.

As I consider this challenge I find myself looking for ways to show kindness, I approach day-to-day life with a heart of service rather than transactionally seeking to gain the most benefit from the least amount of effort and investment. Regardless of your faith you wouldn't have to stretch to far to consider that mostly our default isn't to love selflessly, it takes work, and much like buying a new printer requires the user to change the default printer to the new hardware, so to our hearts take some programming to change our default to be one which assumes the best in others, gives a thank-you wave, holds a door and let's the person behind us with three items go before us in the checkout line - and that's what this challenge offers you, a new default, a default towards kindness.

I can imagine Warren smiling at his new legacy; his greatest being his incredible family who are witnessing their father's heart beat in hundreds of people around the world.

One

Warren Stuart.

I didn't know Warren well, I was a frequent visitor of his store "the Attic" though to be fair, it was equal parts more curio shop than "store" as it held endless discoveries to be held and wondered at. Warren was picking before picking was cool, I always wondered what depths he plumbed for his finds. The first item I purchased from Warren was a Transvision Vamp album, purchased entirely for the single "sex kick." The Attic is a memory for me, I was in my 20's living in downtown Calgary and I travelled the streets and avenues with the zeal and abandon of a child exploring their boundless imagination. 

Then The Attic was no more, I moved to the suburbs, escalating real estate costs saw independent shops swallowed up by franchises and national retail giants.

I grew up and took a job with a bank call centre... ok half that's true. I did work in a bank call centre. A sea of tribicles, cutting a wall off a cubicle was an instant 25% cost savings, should have been a character vacuum... It wasn't. Working outbound telemarketing cues I met Danielle.

Danielle and I clicked and would hold conversations in between calls that sounded like a morning radio team. I remember when the Warren, Danielle and The Attic link clicked and I turned into a fan boy. We had fun in the fun desert. I went to Danielle's stagette party.

The years passed and I moved into a branch job and then...

I was at home when I got the call. 

My twin brother was working with Danielle when Warren was stolen, tears streamed down my face as my mind reeled back to the talks with Danielle, the love Danielle and Warren shared.

Warren would have turned 50 this year and to make a difference I have committed to 50 random acts of kindness. Being in career limbo, spreading over part time jobs and contract work I saw this as a release into creativity into positivity.

Great creations didn't set out to be the Mona Lisa, J K Rowling didn't set out to write a game changing series in Harry Potter, it just happened, so be open to the movements of the winds if kindness and let your sails adjust to its leading.

This past Christmas my wife bought me the DDP Yoga Extreme pack and I anxiously anticipated  its delivery. After waiting some time I contacted DDP Yoga and within moments had a reply that it was delivered... so I set out to the mailbox in the snow.., and stopped. The winds iof kindness said - shovel your neighbour's walk, and the next one, and the next one. Three blocks later I completed act one of fifty. One. Take one and add to it and compound it and the limits are obliterated.

As I leaned my old fibromyalgia frame on the shovel I said a prayer and chatted with Warren, we had a laugh and I felt he had joy for this movement started in his memory. 

Go and be kind to one another, especially when others don't deserve it, that's when they need it most.