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."
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