elpis - hope for everyday living

“I Do” said the bunny

2007-11-26T14:09:00.001-08:00

Now here's something you will not hear every day. I performed a bunny wedding. Yes, I'm talking about the rabbit species, the ones that hop about.

Back in about 1990, while living in Ontario, we purchased a bunny for a pet. I do recall the rabbit hopping about the house and I, or possible Heidi, running behind picking up the "pellets" that the rabbit was discarding along the way. Our kids were elementary age at the time.
[more]

This Blog is Moving

2007-11-20T14:58:00.001-08:00

I'm talking about this blog. Nothing wrong at this location, it's just that I have merged several projects under one umbrella. Hope for Everyday Living will continue as usual. However, the new location is at, gerrypeters.com/hope. If you are one of those delightful folks that have subscribed, the RSS feed is http://gerrypeters.com/hope/?feed=rss2

Hope you make the switch with me and I'll see you there. And, if you ever forget where my blog is, just remember gerrypeters.com and follow the links.

The bees went Buzzzzzzzz!!

2007-11-20T14:44:00.001-08:00

I don't know if there are many people out there that have the privilege as I do. I took 4 of my grandchildren to see the movie, Bee.

I know that there were some family concerns, not necessarily for the kids but more for me and my ability to survive and remember where I was. I'm sure there were allusions of me getting up in the middle of movie to go to the washroom and then forgetting why I was in the Movie Theater. [more]

Getting Rid Of a Vacuum Cleaner Salesman

2007-11-07T13:33:00.001-08:00

Yes, I was duped by the nice lady on the phone that said I had won something and asked if somebody could drop by to give it to me. To be fair, I had allowed my name to be entered in a contest that would win a vacation. The nice lady said I had won.

The door bell rings. At the door stands a nice man with the gift card in hand and asks to come in. Something did not seem right, but why not. "Come on in."

We sat down in our living room and he opened up his binder with documents of personal validation. He noticed the look on our face (perceptive young fellow). "You don't look to be interested," he quipped. "You're right", we replied. He was in and out under 15 minutes and that includes 10 minutes of cordiality.

Here's how it works. All you need to do is be honest. I'm talking about straight-faced blunt honesty.

"Are you interested in breathing clean air?" He asks. This is were you need to start with your honesty.

"We hate your sales tactics," is what we said. "First, the lady calls and dupes me into believing something that is not true. You appear on our doorstep with a new handy dandy vacuum cleaner and ask for 20 minutes of our time that will stretch into 2 hours. Along the way you will attempt to guilt us into purchasing your gizmo and when we won't bite you will advance to the next step of self pity and anger. In the end, you're going to become rude and leave angry to make us feel very bad. That's what's going to happen and we don't care."

"Well, I'm very surprised at your response", he responds, "I've been in this business a long time and this is the first time I've heard this. Will you at least do my demonstration so that I can get a pay check?"

"No."

He left in his well rehearsed anger stride accompanied by a whiny, poor me / you are mean people face and voice.

But he was gone.

It took no more than 13 minutes.

Pure unabashed honesty works.

It Wasn't Me!!

2007-09-30T16:24:00.000-07:00

One of the many reasons we decided to have grandchildren was so that we could laugh. Now there’s a variety of reasons for the laughter and I’ll be the first to admit that some of the reasons come with a tad of cynicism. “It’s payback time”, phrases like that of which I never tire. But one of the reasons of joy is to listen to the funny things they say and believe.

During the summer I spent a week with Chrissie and Aaron and their darling and awesome children. They all give me great joy and I love them equally. I’m amazed at how Hudson beats me at Nintendo Wii games with ease; Abby has to be one of the most courageous grade 1’rs I know as she lives well with diabetes. Then there is Carter. He just makes me laugh.

During my stay, Carter was exhibiting some general bowel discomfort. Without becoming too graphic, let’s just say that there were several “blow-outs” in the pants region. Naturally, his Mom and Dad were encouraging him to tell them prior the nasty, but as you can well imagine, numerous interests around the house kept him from the obvious. As a result, the tardy tooter blew. Literally.

Now, even though Carter is two years old, I’m sure that there some emotions that come with the ordeal. He’s a bit ashamed and perhaps even humiliated just a little. I mean, when the designer Gap jeans on Carter turn foul, the entire household is alerted and the reaction is similar to a five alarm fire.

What’s a two year old to do to somehow keep his dignity? Carter gets an Emmy for his performance. As he is being rushed to the washroom, all you can hear is Carter screaming, “It wasn’t me!! It wasn’t me!!” And I have to tell you, he sounded so convincing. “Carter, of course it was you, who else could it be?” His Mother / Medic try to reason. Aha, thinks Carter, an open door to shift the blame. “It was Abby! It wasn’t me, Abby did this to me.”

What is the role of a grandparent at a moment such as this? Laughter.

Big Brother

2007-09-10T12:54:00.001-07:00

Family summer holidays are over. To some this is a happy thought (they're over) while others quietly reminisce the unforgettable moments and look at the pictures over and over again.

Our family is now numbering 11. It has almost become a tradition for all of us to get together at a carefully selected location and spend a 24/7 joyful week together. For our family, it is a week that drives our thinking to say, "Can we do this forever?" We're just that kind of family. Perfectly brought together by the grace of God in such a way that each of our personalities, tastes, desires, political views and expectations are blended into one masterful union. It's almost freaky at times. We sit by the fire every evening singing Kum-By-Ya, candles waving in perfect time.

Some of you are not as lucky. I'm sorry. This brings me to the point of today's Blog thought.

An extended family vacation can be like Big Brother (TV's Reality Show). You're in one house for a solid week learning to live, eat, sleep, watch kids and play together. The sleeping arrangements are equally similar to the Show. Not everyone has a king size memory foam mattress in a sound-insulated private room with the postcard view. Everyone thinks they deserve that room but of course only one gets it. And then there is the "slow to think or speak couple" that sleeps on the living room pullout. Some kids like to start playing at 6am in the same area that another person enjoys waking to little birds singing at 10am.

The Head of Household? Well you would expect it to be the Dad, right? Planning the day, being the final voice on decisions, the person in charge. Yet again, these rules have been unwritten while you were not in the room. Apparently, the Head of Household is the person which is the grumpiest and had the night's worst sleep. And I refuse to mention the PMS.

When you think about it, you could carry on the Reality Game analogy to a significant distance.

Here's where the analogy ends. You cannot vote anybody out of the house. You may want to, there may be a strong alliance to do so and it may even make the vacation so much more enjoyable by all. But sorry, everybody must stay till the end. It's a family vacation. You endure till the end. And then when the week is all done you say, "let's do it again next year". Go figure.

Now, I swiftly take you back to our family vacation. Ours is the unforgettable Kum-By-Ya experience.
Hence, may I introduce to you to the "how to have a Kum-By-Ya family vacation" DVD series for only $49.99. It comes with moment by moment instructions, eating and sleeping plans and even fun games to play with a garden hose.

Operators are standing by.

Best in “Creative Birthday Party” category

2007-06-11T13:03:00.001-07:00

Before you read on, this is not for the sensitive, non-adventurous or void of bravery. No "shame on you" responses are welcome.

We lived in Sparwood at the time. If you've ever been there, you will know that there is not a whole lot to do. Don't get me wrong, we did enjoy our time there and would not have changed anything for being there. When people came to visit, we would take our guests to see whatever wildlife they chose. A Moose? We would be within 10 feet within the hour. A Bear? That would mean a trip to the garbage dump to view the grizzlies and other similar species. Other than wildlife and beautiful scenery, not much else was there to fill your adventurous appetite.

Now, I'm married to a wonderful Brazilian lady. She an adventure junkie. It's routine to hear that she has taken up something new. To know her is to understand that you never give her a dare unless you plan to deal with the consequences.

Take a step into the story at hand. It's Heidi's 40^th birthday (that's 3 years ago). The one thing I know is that she is not interested in the regular birthday cake, girl friend party. She wants a surprise party, and something very memorable.

What's a loving husband to do?

I had her kidnapped. That's right. I got a couple of the biggest guys in High School to join in the fun. At that time, Heidi was in a sports league at the Rec Center. I informed her team, Rec Center Staff and the Police so that these two bruising lads would be able to carry out the kidnap without being shot.

They pulled off the attack without a single flaw. As Heidi was coming out of the Rec Center (8:00pm in January), these two masked men threw a gunny sack over her head, hoisted her over their shoulders and planted her in the back seat of their car. One of the guys held her tightly in the back seat while the other got into the car and drove recklessly about the town. They were not to say a single word to her, just to increase the mystery. When they had done that for about 5 minutes, they were to drop her off at the party. They did everything according to plan.How did Heidi

react? She loved it. She taunted the two fellows, told the one holding her down that he had bad breath and fought them off a bit just for the fun of it. Just like I knew she would.

Yes, it had been a total surprise to her and a 40^th birthday that would not be forgotten.

Pretty good, huh?

Now, to be fair, it did give Heidi permission to do the same to me whenever she wanted. Get a couple High School girls to kidnap me.

I'm still waiting.

GERRY! Is That You?

2007-05-25T16:49:00.001-07:00

I don't necessarily remember a lot from my teenage days except for a few select significant highlights.

Here's one event that I'm delighted to tell you about.

I'm 16 years old. It's a somewhat boring evening, one that led me to cruise solo in my Karmann Ghia. There was an Abby Panthers basketball game and so I thought I would stop by, make an appearance, and perhaps I would chance upon a friend that had chosen to begin the night without me.

I pay my 50 cents, an almost criminal fee, and entered via the main entrance to the gymnasium. There was always a packed house in those days and the cheering decibels would be expected to reach optimum levels.

I stand at the base of the bleachers for just a moment watching the game, when from behind me I hear, above the noise of the crowd, a girl screaming, "Gerry, is that you?"

Naturally I turned around; by chance it was for me. And to my wondering eyes did I see, this young lady screaming at me. She looked so delighted to see me. An emergency attempt was made by me to squeeze any form of memory that matched the face and voice. Nothing. It was too late anyway because down the bleachers this girl came with determination in every stride. The quickness of my brain recognized that she was quite attractive, yet I didn't have a clue of whom she might be. Okay, Gerry, quick, a game plan.

There was no mercy found in her pursuit. People were hurt, stepped on and abused. She rounded the corner and came straight for me. "Gerry, I can't believe it's you! When did you come?" was all I heard.

A long embrace ensued. Time stood still. I sent up a little prayer, "Lord, can you remind me who this girl is?" Again, there's nothing. I was glad my name was Gerry. During the timeless embrace, of which I gladly participated in, I'm trying to think of a strategy that would cause this little serendipity moment to linger. I was out of luck.

The embrace ended and she stepped back and I heard her say the words, "Let me look at you." I tried to smile, put on my game face. And I watched as her countenance turned from euphoria to confusion which led to horror. All the while I've maintained my foolish smile.

"You're not Gerry!" I tried to explain that actually I was but there be no time or success in convincing the young lady. She fled in her embarrassment.

I was so close. I almost had a new friend.

Well, I stood at the bottom of the bleachers for just a few minutes longer. I tried to look cool but the looks from people around me persuaded me to move on. They were obviously wondering what had just happened and I didn't have any answers. Meanwhile, the same girl is back up in the bleachers being consoled by her friends. She's beside herself in tears. Somehow I felt guilty, I'm not sure why, but nevertheless I had made a young lady cry.

I exited the same way I had walked in, a little confused, yet happy for the few moments of delight. It was a short relationship but the memories would last forever.

Max’s First Day of Work

2007-05-20T10:47:00.000-07:00

You read the title of this blog right. Max has a job. I figure that he's old enough to start earning his own keep. He'll be 2 years old in July. Calculate that into dog years and it's the equivalent of being 21 (The formula is: 10.5 dog years per human year for the first 2 years, then 4 dog years per human year for each year after).

I thought his job would be quite easy. All he really needed to do was accompany Annalise to pre-school so the kids there could play with him. A dog's dream job. They have a nice courtyard where they could chase one another for hours.

In the morning I bathed him, took him for a walk and waited on him until I was confident that all bodily functions had been satisfied. With his lunch in tow he set out for his first day.

What can I say, he was a hit and did very well for his first day. Luckily, Max is the perfect kid's dog. Two children pulling his tail, another sitting on him while a fourth tries to find his tonsils. All along Max is thinking, "All these people like me!" For him, nothing could be more fun. Max simply would not know what aggression looked like.

Just when the pre-schoolers are tiring, 3:00pm, the after-school program begins. Max is thinking "a double shift on my first day?" The routine of being chased, walked and tackled starts all over again.

At 5:30pm Max is due home. I watch him get out of the car with a somewhat subdued posture. the spring in his step was left behind somewhere. His usual greeting had a hint of his regular joy but that's where it ended. He walked to our family room, laid down in a somewhat collapsed formation and didn't move until bed time. Totally out of character. Read my blog about "Catch Me If You Can" and you'll get what I mean.

Since that day, Max has continued to work but has asked for light duty roles. He's open to intimate gatherings like birthday parties, Bar Mitzvah celebrations, or a walking companion to the park.

Jaydon Daniel Update

2007-05-18T14:42:00.000-07:00

Jaydon Daniel Kieneker is home! All the paperwork was completed on Friday for him to cross the US border in to Canada. He's a very content little boy and sleeps wonderfully. Hurray!

Gwak Gwak Gwak Gwak Gwak

2007-05-15T13:17:00.001-07:00

We've all been in this situation. Well, almost.

Fast food restaurants spend millions on their outlets. Advertising has few limits, spend the money. You get clowns, Kentucky gentlemen and kings luring the weak to taste their secret delicacies. Not only can you go for a family meal, your kids get an indoor amusement park. After serving a billion customers for billions of dollars you would think that they could flip and extra dime or two into the intercom system for those that chose to "drive through." I'm sure that most of these cosmetically enhanced fast food chains go to the army surplus store to buy their intercom. And then, what seems to be a complete attempt to discriminate against anyone that drives a vehicle, they seek an attendant that mumbles accompanied by a serious lisp and make her the box boss.

Such was the case at one particular outlet where I had the privilege of gracing their auto food lane.

A few years back I was on a speaking tour. I had left my team to set up the gear and I volunteered to go pick up some quick dinner. I sped downtown and chose the first familiar establishment (nameless) that I saw. To add to my good fortune, there was no one in the food pick up lane. I came to a halt by the intercom. It may have even had a happy face on it.

"Gwak gwak gwak" was all I understood. Assuming the attendant was expressing a wonderfully warm greeting I said "thank you" and proceeded to give my lengthy order. After just a few moments the box interrupted me, "gwak gwak?" "Excuse me, I can't understand a word you're saying" I said. "Gwak gwak gwak gwak gwak" was the reply.

This continued for just a few more moments until I made a strategic move, I surrendered. I started my order from the beginning and when I heard the "gwak gwak?" I simply replied "yes".

I filled my complete order this way and drove to the pay window when I considered my time with Miss Gwak had ended. Everything seemed in order; she took my credit card and motioned me to the next window for pickup. Sure enough, there were several very large bags waiting for me. I almost asked for customer service to help me load the bags into the car. I have to tell you, that at about this time I began to be quite excited. It was like a food adventure because I had no idea what was understood at the other end of the box. Everybody likes an adventure, right?

There was a group of hungry people waiting for me at the Church. "What did you get us?" they asked. "I have absolutely no idea. It's a surprise happy meal." I don't remember what exactly was in the bags, but I do know that everything was supersized with entire combo meals and prizes to go with it. There were even a few extra meals for those that wanted seconds. We did consider going back out into the streets to feed the hungry, but alas, the show was about to begin.

Somebody else was selected to do the team food runs for the days that followed.

I dare you, next time you're driving through for your food and you don't understand a word, just say "yes". It just may be the adventure that your life has been missing.

Jaydon Daniel

2007-05-13T11:17:00.001-07:00

Update for May 13 @ 6:00pm

Chris and Tanya were at the hospital for a visit with Jaydon. All is very well.

As for Jaydon, he weighed in at 8.13 lbs and is 19.75 inches with straight black hair. Jaydon has a private room (go figure) and Tanya may stay with him for his first night.

========

On May 12, 2007 @ 11:37pm, we had the awesome joy of welcoming our newest grandson into this world. Chris and Tanya were called early this morning at their hotel room. The birth mom has been through a very lengthy delivery and eventually a C-Section. Chris and Tanya have permission to meet their baby at 2:30pm today. Naturally, they are so very thrilled. It's been a 2 ½ year wait.

We're not yet sure of the birth weight and other important details. We do know that Jaydon will be in Neo Natal Observation for the next 48 hours because of a fast heartbeat during pregnancy.
And yes, Heidi won the baby birth pool.

Mother’s Day

2007-05-13T09:40:00.001-07:00

I'm contemplating my blessings.

As I write this blog, I'm cuddled on the couch with Annalise (my granddaughter) watching Dora. Her Mom and Dad are in Seattle where they are welcoming their new child into this world. Chrissie has been at her Church since about 8:00am where she serves as the Children's Pastor. And Heidi, she's out running her regular Sunday Morning 10km.

I'm blessed with awesome Mom's in my home. Here are my thoughts:

They are Moms of Faith.
I'm considering the strong foundation of faith. On many occasions, and even today, they have weathered challenges by being rooted in their faith. This has been and will prove to be their greatest gift to their children.
They are Moms of Blessing.
I don't hear them cursing. I'm not talking about getting creatively colorful with their language. I'm not going to comment on that aspect of their speech. What I've not heard is the curse of belittling. I don't hear the women in our home talking down on their children or husbands. "You are such a …." Don't hear it here. Children and husbands are blessed in this home.
They are Moms of Prayer.
They are steadfast. When times have seemed that God would not answer, their prayer life has remained strong. Many times the resolve has been stronger than mine.
They are Moms of Worship.
I don't mean singing a song. Anybody can do that. What I see them doing is giving their best to the Lord. I see it in their possessions, time and family.
They are Moms of Courage.
I delight in this blessing. They're not pushovers. Go ahead, pick a fight with one of my gals, I dare you.

Thanks girls. I love you.

The First Call

2007-05-11T07:53:00.001-07:00

May 10, 2007 at 3:00pm.

The first call I'm talking about came from Bellingham, WA. "Hi Chris and Tanya, the birth Mom has just been admitted into the hospital to have her (your) baby. You should come down this evening. You'll be happy to know that everything is going well."

My first thoughts? "I'm going to win the baby pool!" I chose for the baby boy to be born on May 11, my birthday.

At the writing of this blog, we just sit and wait. It's 7:45am. What we need today is the second call. Yes, I'll win the big baby pool prize, but the big deal is our 5^th grandchild.

Now, I could tell you the baby's name but being viciously flogged by an angry mother is my deterrent. And, I'd probably lose the baby pool prize.

Stay tuned.

I See That Hand

2007-05-07T12:56:00.001-07:00

I'm suspecting that not many of my readers have had the privilege of being in Africa. It's a life-changing experience, all for the good. My stories are near endless and so let me tell you just one, that is for now.

Luanda, Angola. The nation has just ended, like in the last couple months, a 30 year civil war. Luanda is the capital city and so has visibly taken the major hit. A city of 4 million has no electricity or sewer systems. I am accompanying Heidi as she launches a national program to bring hope to millions of hurting women. Women of Hope thrives today well beyond our expectations.

It's Sunday. We're headed for a Church that is situated in a refugee area. I'm told that about 4,000 people will be there.

Now, if a Pastor is traveling anywhere in Africa, he must be prepared to preach a sermon at a moment's notice. It's kind of like, "when you least expect it…" Luckily I'm with a guide that will help me prepare for what just may happen.

"Gerry, you need to prepare for a sermon for this morning. A visiting Pastor, especially from Canada, will most likely be asked to speak. If not speak, you will be involved somehow in the service."

Well, as we enter this building I'm quickly informed that they had already scheduled a guest speaker and so an apology is extended for not being able invite me to preach. However, they insist that I sit on the platform with the elders and deacons.

The service begins with usual African Church fanfare. There are 4000 people in a building that we would find comfortable for 700. Heidi, I and Aaron (our son-in-law) are the token white folks. I just know it's going to be fantastic. I'm trying to find the rhythm for my arms, feet and anything else that can move. I've never felt whiter.

Singing time has concluded, the preacher has been up for about 10 minutes preaching his heart out. 4000 people echoing their agreement. I should have brought my Canucks white towel along. Towel power would have found some usefulness. I don't understand a word but I'm smiling and agreeing just the same.

"They're expecting you to conduct the invitation at the end of the sermon." Those are the words of my interpreter whom has just come to sit beside me. "They asked me to sit with you because they thought it may helpful if you knew what the sermon is about." This will be interesting, I think.

At the pinnacle of passion from congregation and pastor, the preaching abruptly stops, he turns to sit just as quickly and I'm thrown at the pulpit. "Hurry and God bless you!" the words of one deacon as he points at the pulpit.

This is first Church I've attended in Africa. But I've got to tell you, I hit a preaching stride that was way beyond the legal limits for a Canadian. For 5 minutes I threw it all at them, my interpreter finding the perfect rhythm beside me. At least 50 people come forward and I'm filled with a wondrous joy of accomplishment. I turn and sit down.

No sooner had I sat down that the entire platform of deacons and elders started shaking their heads at me in horror and pointing back at the pulpit. "What's wrong?" I ask my interpreter. "They're saying that you're not finished."

Well, I throw myself back into action with an entirely new series of thoughts and encouragements. I'm amazed! At least another 50 come forward. After 5 minutes I make another quick turn for my seat. The deacons were no less impressed than from the last time. "Get back up there!"

The third time I'm back with pleas for people to come forward. "They won't let me stop until you've all come forward!" That's what I wanted to add to my invitation. This time I blended my two invitations and even threw in some new stuff. I told them the story of creation and Jonah. I stop for a moment, look at my interpreter and ask her how often they will send me back here and exactly what they are wanting. "They want you continue until it's very clear that it's all done." I saw another 50 people come forward.

I gave it another few minutes and with nearly scripted precision, I did the only thing I knew to make sure it was "done."

I gave the benediction and dismissed the people.

G- String Trouble

2007-05-01T11:25:00.001-07:00

Don't get your shorts all twisted in a knot. It may sound risqué to some but it's a real life Church Story. However, if you're already offended, please don't read on.

Any person who spends a lot of their time on a stage must also be prepared for the most unexpected. Some people have anxiety attacks just thinking about these possible moments because it would completely derail their performance. For me, it just added to the fun. I learned to speak in prisons, you can't shock me.

In one particular pastorate we had a small orchestra that played along with the worship time. I'm not really sure who ever asked the orchestra to join the service or who it was that led this delightful little team, but they entertained us every Sunday morning. They never showed up to a practice, they had no music and seldom knew the songs, but they played along with each song and did so with great confidence. In some communities this is quite ordinary and even encouraged. Thus, the Pastor just smiles and blesses those that serve.

On a particular Sunday, I was welcoming the congregation and having some "family time" with them. While this was going on, one of the dear elderly orchestra gals got up from her seat, violin in hand, went to the piano and began pounding a key on the piano and twanging a violin string. This went on for about 30 seconds. In this type of situation I would generally carry on as if nothing was happening. However, I saw no sign of the lady getting anywhere close to completion. Pounding and twanging.

Finally I stopped speaking to the audience because the stage to the right had clearly taken over the spotlight anyway. With a little perseverance I got the attention of the aspiring star. "Norma, (not the real name) what's going on over there?" It was the obvious question in the house. Her reply was very loud, innocent and sincere. "I'm having trouble with my g-string!!"

Pastoral training encourages you to just let those comments go by without a response but everyone in the audience (those in their 40's and younger) burst into laughter. The laughter continued on. The dear old lady and most seniors had no clue what the joke was all about. I wondered if I should try to explain what they all thought was so funny. The service had been derailed. i looked at the service schedule and Scripture reading was next. We'd simply have to put it elsewhere.

"Well," I said, "I'll just leave you and your g-string alone."

Another orchestra member came to the rescue and together they performed an adjustment on her g-string, the service continued as though nothing unusual had happened.

Try singing a hymn after that.

Today "Norma" is in heaven where troublesome g-strings are no more.

Our Family is Pregnant - 3

2007-04-28T20:45:00.001-07:00

Whenever God is the initiator of an action, it is always a result of His grace. Throughout history He has had to respond to man's actions in judgment, but His grace was always there ready for us to embrace. We often spend most of our time thinking on the "man's actions" part. In so doing, we often lose sight of God, what He's doing around us, and the joy of worship.

This brings me to the point of this little writing. Adoption.

Grace happens throughout the process of adoption:

When a couple makes a choice to adopt a child into their home.
When a couple opens the doors for any child, not just the one with perfect skin, freckles and all.
When parents make a life commitment to love this child through the good and bad.
When a young lady chooses life over an abortion.
When that young lady cares for that child as though it will be her own, all the while knowing she will say goodbye soon after birth.
When that young lady chooses a home where she feels confident that this child will have a healthy home environment.

That's the story of Chris, Tanya and a young lady.

On April 26, 2007 at 2:42pm, Tanya received a phone call to let them know that a young mother had officially chosen them to parent her little boy! She is a beautiful young lady who has not had an easy life. While many encouraged her to abort, she has chosen life and then to place this baby into a loving home. A story of grace.

Chris and Tanya's baby boy is due on May 15. The baby's heart rate has been high and so they may do an early C-section. So, this boy could arrive at any time. As soon as labor begins, Chris and Tanya will be called so they can drive down to Everett, Washington (outside of Seattle). If everything goes according to plan, they will leave with the baby from the hospital but will have to stay in the U.S. for a while immigration papers are being finalized.

Grace has happened in our home. That's the amazing story we want this little boy to remember.

Our family is Pregnant through adoption.

Our Family is Pregnant - 2

2007-04-27T11:00:00.000-07:00

Just a quick followup to my story a few days back. All systems go. Chris and Tanya will have a new baby in their home within the month.

Stay tuned for new Papa G stories.

NA NA NA NA NA NA

2007-04-27T10:23:00.001-07:00

Words you will never forget. I'm sure we all have them in our memory. A famous quote, a sharp rebuke, words of kindness, funny things kids say, and the list goes on.

Here's one of mine.

When I was starting out as a Pastor I worked hard to develop my speaking skills. I wasn't exactly on the top of the speaking circuit charts and so I engineered my own opportunities. I scheduled myself to speak in Prisons, Juvenile Delinquent and Homeless shelters, Detox Centers, Nursing and Care Homes. I booked several gigs a week for many years in almost any setting where the Activity Director was looking for something to fill empty moments in her schedule. And, I was free.

While this discipline and experience was very rich and rewarding, I didn't necessarily get a lot of feedback from some audiences. There was never a problem getting a reaction from inmates but being a guest speaker at a Nursing Home was always a little more of a challenge. In those settings I usually saw it as my opportunity delve deep into my giftedness to somehow arouse this audience into any form of emotional feedback. A single smile was victory. I considered achieving eye contact a success. I would sing for them, bring my harp and play for them and then offer masterful concerts on the resident Yamaha Electric Organ. Mr. Yamaha would have been proud. I would finish the service off with meaningful heart to heart talk that would surely catapult them into great meaning for life.

I enjoyed one Nursing Home in particular. A dear lady joined us at every service with her usual broad smile and cheery nature. She was riveted on every word I sang or spoke and responded with great delight when I played the harp and organ. I would often tell Heidi about my weekly experiences and this wonderfully alert and delightful lady.

I was happy to find one day that Heidi was able to join me for a service at my favorite Care Home. Sure enough, my best fan came in with great vigor and sat in her chair. As usual she was delighted with the service from beginning to end.

After I concluded the benediction, I made sure that I brought Heidi to meet this lady. "Hello", I said. "I'm always encouraged by your regular attendance and your delightful smile. I wanted to make sure that you were able to meet my wife."

The nice lady looked right into my eyes with the brightest smile and said with great exuberance, "Na na na na na na."

And yes, some words you never forget.

I learned something that day, that is when humility once again became a comfortable resident. Sit, listen and shut up. The true act of caring and encouraging does not begin or end behind a podium (or the telephone, blog, email….). Who knows, after you do that for a while, you actually may have something relevant to say and do. Who knows, you may not even need the Yamaha Electric Organ.

Our Family is Pregnant

2007-04-22T18:50:00.000-07:00

Yes, I am aware of that fact that I've not published a blog in exactly one month. Sorry. and, if you've just logged on, thanks for your patience. That little MS bug I've got gave me a rotten month. So much for the explanation.

---------------------------------------------

It's about 30 years ago. I remember when Heidi and I decided to have children. What can I say, it happened. I can remember quite clearly the whole waiting time, the anticipation and then the delivery. Heidi's version of that particular event is that I was much less than helpful. However, it brought a whole new meaning to the WOW Factor. There's nothing like holding a newborn in your arms. Family was making its debut.

I remember when our girls (with their husbands, of course) announced that they were going to start a family. While I was much too young to be a Grandpa (hence the Papa G title) it was a thrill of a life time to hold this child, grandchild, in our arms. This is family.

I remember each grandchild (today we're at #4) and the process that brought them into our home. Incredible! Each experience (our children and grandchildren) brought us equal joy. This is family. Within our home you will find that diabetes, allergies, MS and Osteoarthritis live here. Look further and you'll see that we share a variety of skills, personalities and appearances. We have numerous colours of hair or the lack of it. We are Mennonite, Dutch, Brazilian and Italian. We have all levels of intelligence ranging from genius to brilliant. We are family.

April 23, 2007 was designated by God to be a special day. This was the due date for us to embrace a new child into our home. However, another miscarriage for Chris and Tanya brought an end to that anticipated day, that is, for the moment. And after 4 miscarriages, they asked God to bring them a child through adoption. This was not the choice of one couple alone. This is family. This year adoption will live here as well. Our family became pregnant.

It is now April 23, 2007. At 11:00am, Chris and Tanya meet with a birth mother that has tentatively selected them to be the mother and father to a child that will be born in a few weeks. I say tentatively because much is dependant on this one meeting.

I remember the joy, excitement and anticipation as announcements came that a new family member was coming. Some of them came in the form of very large men. Others came in tiny cotton packages. It's impossible to compare one from the other and the emotions that came with the day. Every new situation came with equal love and joy. And on this day we just may be given the incredible news of a new cotton package into our family.

Every process, every experience has been equally ours by the grace of God.

I am ready to remember this day.

Grandchild Art

2007-03-23T10:29:00.000-07:00

You know someone has a special gift when they are able to make the most difficult look easy.

So it is with this most recent Artistic rendition from Abigayle Davies. A blend of Abstract, Illustrative, Acrylic and Water Color disciplines are combined to tell a beautiful story and bring sense of joy to the beholder. A perfect art piece to grace most any home.

I watch as, with astounding ease, she captures the enormity and ferocity of Max. No doily skirt for this dog. The master is in colourful display, seemingly enjoying the adventures of springtime. Not sure about the purse, perhaps a spattering attempt at humour.

Tastefully displayed in the lower corner is our home, a two story suburban home with exquisitely manicured gardens. Home.

This is a painting that captures the richness of the Art history world but at the same time courageously stretching into the future.

Displayed on Ebay soon.

Spring Break with Papa G

2007-03-23T09:04:00.000-07:00

I suppose the title is a little misleading. Abby came down from Kamloops to spend her Easter Break with us. While I have been here all the time, spending time alone with Papa G has not happened much. It was Tanya (our daughter) that invited her down so that she could participate in a Spring Break Day Camp that she was leading in Maple Ridge. The moments that I do have give me a long enough time to sit back and ponder how lucky we are to have Grand kids and how absolutely ecstatic I am that we survived our own kids. I don't have to do this again. They all eventually go home. But for now? It's great.

Abby is 5 years old and has lived with Diabetes since 7 months old. She's amazing. Tests her blood sugars by herself, gives detailed instructions of how and what should be done with her insulin system. This year she was asked to be the Interior Spokesperson (poster child) for Diabetes. The photo shoots, newspapers, participating in diabetes "rallies" (she demonstrates to the audience how her pump works) and even the odd stop at the hospital to encourage a newly diagnosed child.

Back to Spring break. Take two girls (Annalise and Abby), 9 Barbie dolls complete with extravagant wardrobes, cars, a couple castles, horses and put them in a room designated for them to play. What do you have? Peace and quiet. Imagination with their Barbie's runs wild in that room. I think they even imagine snack time because there is no request for one. We actually have to interrupt them and ask if they need one.

A brief burst of excitement occurs when they leave the door open, just a crack, for 15 seconds. Max makes a run for it with Barbie's head in his mouth and two screaming girls bringing up the posse. Meanwhile, they've left the door open and he does the dash for some more loot. I come to the girls rescue. Papa G's our hero. Back in my room I congratulate Max for a job well done.

I've got to say that it's been relatively easy, all things considering. Not so with the Grandsons. Put Hudson and Carter in a room and one of them will decide to dismantle the drywall. You know, just because it's there. This is why we entertain the genders in shifts and seasons.

As I said, it's a wonderful time to ponder the blessings of life. Our family still loves each other with promises to visit me occasionally in the rest home. They have good marriages and they are parenting well. And, they bought me a puppy.

I could, quite easily, look at my life and see it in a place that I never intended. I could even get grumpy and deserve every minute of it.

Pondering on the good things makes the difference.

Funniest Church Story

2007-03-20T13:44:00.000-07:00

Every Pastor has a story of a Service or Event that have gone terribly wrong. I have my share. My favourite took place while serving as a Pastor in Ontario, somewhere around 1990.

It was the first Sunday of the Month. On this day we regularly celebrated the Lord’s Supper, Communion, a solemn moment for Christians. Our custom was to pass throughout the congregation a small piece of bread and a thimbal-size cup of grape juice. After each person had been served, we participated together in eating the bread and drinking the cup.

In our Church the Deacons took turns in preparing the bread and cup for the congregation. The elements were displayed in elegant silver trays.

The early service went splendidly. The top trays were distributed and all was well.

The second service gives us a story to tell.

I distribute the communion trays to the Deacons and they fan out to serve the congregation. I’m rather busy making appropriate pastoral statements, smiling, I may have even had a sacred glow on my face. Okay, that’s pushing it.

The trays are distributed, the servers return. As I look at their faces, I know something has gone terribly wrong.

One Deacon, in considerable panic, comes straight up to me and says, “Do something! Most of the cups are filled with mold.” Delightful. This sacred moment is about to be disturbed. My subconscious remembers seeing the appointed Deacon preparing the communion on Thursday. I ask if this is a good idea, but he assures me that all will be well on Sunday. "I'll look after it, Pastor." He's off to the cottage this coming weekend but will not neglect his responsibility. Good man.

It is Sunday. The grape juice has fermented. “Do something quickly!”, I’m told. Right. Thanks.

In what must have been a God-moment, I acknowledge the fact that there is mold, I apologize. “This is a moment of remembrance”, I say. “We need not drink the cup to do this. We can use the mold as a reminder of our sin for which Jesus shed his blood. In this moment of silence, let us thank the Lord for his sacrifice. Please do not drink the cup.” I'm a little impressed with myself.

It happens in the back, center rows. It has long been known that this particular area is a dead-spot. For whatever reason it's hard to hear in this spot. And, this is where a group of about 20 elderly ladies insist on sitting. "We've sat here for 40 years and we're not going to move now" we are regularly told when we suggest they move to a new pew where they will be able to hear better.

“What did he say?” they ask among themselves. One wise ole' gal has the answer. “The mold reminds us of sin and so we’re supposed to drink it.” The entire row lift their cups and toss down the moldy grape juice. I see it and nearly toss the cookies.

Now, what to do with an auditorium full of people holding cups filled with moldy grape juice? Well, except 20 ladies. I instruct the deacons to return and retrieve the cups. The trays will be distributed and people will place their full cup in the tray.

And my dear ladies in the back row. The tray returns to their pew. In the tray are little cups of juice, moldy juice.

“What are we supposed to do?” is the question whispered throughout the row. The same wise and vocal lady advised them with a confident level of assurance. “He said, drink ye all of it.” The entire row of ladies lift a second cup of moldy grape juice and down the hatch it goes.

I saw it all. It was witness by about 500 people. No humans were injured.

Catch Me If You Can

2007-03-15T14:34:00.000-07:00

Do you remember the movie with Leonardo DiCaprio (Frank) in Catch Me If You Can? It was fun to watch Tom Hanks (Carl) circle the globe, often within reach of DiCaprio, but never in his grasp. We laughed. We cheered on Dicaprio. We were amused at the cleverness deployed by DiCaprio to outwit those around him. Genius. Entertainment at it's best.

A friend of mine told me the other day, “You know Gerry, there’s nothing funnier in the world than to watch somebody try and catch their dog.” The context of her encouragement was my experience with the beloved and soon to be dead, Max. I wanted to go find Carl (in the movie) and shed a tear with him. It’s not funny when you’re on the catching end. In fact, funny does not exist.

It all happened this Tuesday, March 13, 2007. The day forever etched in my fragile brain.

Max and I go for a little walk each day because that’s one reason we purchased him. A little daily exercise and fresh air. On this day, I decided to let Max off the leash when we came to the park. Other dogs were there, playing, romping, all the stuff dogs do. He has been off the leash before and it has not been the impossible task of getting him back on the leash.

Except today.

Max ran for two hours. After one hour I called Heidi at her job simply to cry. Heidi alerts our neighborhood and sends out an S.O.S. plea to help her dear husband whom she believes has collapsed in a total MS attack. Max continues to run. I settle down on a park bench to watch the comings and goings of man's best friend. There is no sign of slowing down. I asked the Lord of which sin anyone in our family had committed. I thought of a few moments where others had surely disappointed the Lord. I confessed their sins and asked the Lord to retrieve Max.

People passed by my bench, most did not even speak to me and no one came to my aid. I was alone and broken. I identified with the Bible Story of the Samaritan that was hurt on the side of the road, most people walked on by.

In this park there is a Community Day Care. In a stroke of luck the door was opened to let in a child. Max found the opportunity to inflict others with his energy and dove in. I went as quickly as I could to the Day Care. Max was tearing around every room, on their paintings, grabbing blankets that were carefully placed around the TV. Children were screaming and Child Care workers voicing many variations of “@$%^*&^%”. I’m lumbering, somewhat out of control, close behind with “MAX, so sorry, STOP, SIT, STAY, so sorry…”

2 hours.

Max is corralled and leashed.

It’s a quiet walk home.

There is a “time out”.

Yes, it was hilarious for anyone watching. And I’m so happy that I was able to provide this little moment of joy.

vibrant brush-strokes

2007-03-12T15:15:00.000-07:00

Annalise's representational style strives to reveal the interesting in what would otherwise seem commonplace. Each piece, at its onset, carries an emotion which will inspire the palette and texture of the work. Her artwork is rich in motion and texture, with vibrant brush-strokes. Her portraits carry a life-like personality. Annalise enjoys working in different mediums and with varied techniques to create the feeling in each individual piece (crayon is her preference).

Now, if you don't see it, you're probably grandparentishly deficient. What's to say. You just don't have it. Sorry.

There is something about a grandchild, in this case it is our granddaughter, to come upstairs in an over-the-top level of hysteria. "I've made a picture for you Papa G!!" Yes, for me. She's been thinking of me and time was spent creating a treasure just for me.

In our home the hysteria turns to a blood curdling scream as Max has been aroused from a 2 minute nap and believes he has been summoned to capture the flag. Leave no man standing, that's his quest. Probably an amusing site to a hopelessly confused and cynical person. Yes, I'm thinking of you.

Annalise describes her work. I'm (Papa G) the tall guy. She describes how she distinguishes me as a tall man by the ladder up my legs (this would be where some of the representational style comes in). I'm smiling with big eyes because that's how she sees me (who knows where she gets the bright eyes idea from). Take note of the flowers faded in the background, they were intentionally subdued with an eraser for an artistic effect.

Heidi is the other person. Again, each line and curve is described (I do forget what the explanation of the 1 big boob was). Whatever the intention, we have been scribed on a palette with the innocence and love of a grandchild.

Even Max got in on this portrait. It's as still as he's ever been.

I have a mind to put it on Ebay and earn a little cash, say $5,000. But no, we display it with pride.

We're grandparents.

[copies of this art piece are available, check on Ebay while supplies last]

max on crack

2007-03-08T16:09:00.000-08:00

Concepts often look marvelous on paper and sound even better in your mind. We've all been there. "Hey, I've got an incredible idea." The issues of concern surface later.

It all started when my health did a nose dive. "What Gerry needs is a dog." I heard it in my mind, even from my lips and my "loved ones" thought it was a fabulous idea. The dog would give me a reason to go for a walk and somebody to talk to during the day. Therapeutic. What I didn't want was a Paris Hilton cat / chihuahua cross. I wanted a dog, not something you put in your pocket. Something you could wrestle with and not fear snapping it like a little twig. I wanted to walk around the neighbourhood with pride, not slink through the back alleys. Let me take it one step further. I did not want a dog that you put little costumes on. In so doing you only confirm that you need therapy and that your dog is headed to the Psychiatrist in Kennel Land.

Christmas Day.

Max is my dog. Companion and confidant.

Now, the previous owner said that Max was a social dog and that they were not home enough. It was not fair for Max. He needed a home where somebody was home more often. I fit the bill.

Don't get me wrong. I love my dog. I can walk him with pride. We wrestle and he doesn't break and he's quite smart as well. What I didn't realize and what has become a considerable surprise is that Max is on crack. I don't know where he gets it and how he is funding it but it's in his system.

We have yet to see him get weary from running or playing. People have tried. We've brought in professional Dog subduing specialists and they have left with a near coronary.

You would think that's enough. Yesterday he completely went over the psycho limit. He turned into a WWF steroid possessed dog. At about 10:00am I noticed him working at something in the kitchen. "Hey Max, what you got?" It was one of Heidi's Energy Gels (something that she uses mid way through her longer runs. It gives her energy for the kilometers to come). Max has sucked one dry.

I can't really explain the rest of the day without a few tears. Max's Dog Energy soared to altitudes that only astronauts have lived to brag about. Max was on crack with steroid supplements.

And here I am, happy to have salvaged up enough energy to take a very casual stroll around the block. I'm now afraid that Max will wrestle with me and I get snapped like a twig.

Well, at least he's not a fruity-tooty dog that wears lacy costumes.

Happy Birthday Vellie

2007-02-22T19:29:00.000-08:00

It's my sister's birthday. I'm not sure which birthday but it does lie somewhere between 40 and 50. Over the years she's been Tootsie and Vellie. Those names worked quite well for me but over time the name Lovella has become the favoured identity.

As you would expect, she's been my sister about as long as I can remember, which of course could be 20 years or so. I do recall Tootsie as a young aspiring chef, finding any opportunity to bake something with Mom. Her brothers were always the supportive mentors in her culinary skills. Okay, actually I think we resembled Simon Cowell much more than anything. We groaned, tossed them as though they were Frisbees, pretended we were dying, meanwhile eating all the cookies. I would like to take some credit for her Betty Crocker skills; we did challenge her to the great cooking abilities that she has today.

Having been born earlier than Lovella, I do know that Mom was disappointed that there was another boy in her life. All mom ever wanted was a girl and was determined to keep at it until the girl arrived. Until Lovella arrived, I was the test case for mom's sewing dreams of making pretty little dresses for the Princess that had yet to be born. Mom would even take pictures of me. I have to say that Lovella looks much better in the little dresses than me. And just for the record, no jealousy on my end. Thanks Lovella for being born. If for nothing else, you saved me from many years of therapy.

Lovella has many of the better qualities of our Mom. They share the same love for family, cooking, serving and sewing. As for the less desirable qualities, they simply don't exist. As a family, we have been the happy recipients of all the good stuff.

Happy birthday, Lovella. Here's hoping that husband of yours makes it a good one for you.

Some Assembly Required

2007-02-16T11:20:00.000-08:00

This Sunday, February 18, I have the unique privilege of performing a service of marriage recommitment for six couples. The combined years of marriage is 180 years. Quite incredible if you think of it. Somehow we allow ourselves to be enamored with the dysfunction of Pamela Anderson's (just as an example) brief marriage bouts. Perhaps it's just our appetite for the bizarre. Celebrity status should belong to the faithful and committed.

Heidi and I have celebrated our 32nd marriage anniversary. Thinking back, there is a distant, faded memory of the vows. At least I suspect we said some. They most likely included the "for better for worse, richer and poorer, in sickness and in health". Like we had a clue what that meant. It was a promise of the unknown. Sure we were sincere, we cried as we spoke them, but really we had no idea of how those vows would be tested.

We did experience poverty when we moved with to Ontario, with family, for 5 years of school. We more than survived, our marriage and family grew in maturity and love.

I suppose the greatest test of the vows in our marriage was my diagnosis of MS in 1998. Beginning in 1983 there were numerous signs that something was wrong with me (go ahead and fill in the blanks if you know me) yet there was few medical explanations. During some of the lowest points, Heidi tells me now that she woke up each morning and told God that she promised to love the man that Gerry was going to be today.

I'm not so certain if James had marriage in mind when he wrote "Dear Brothers and sisters, whenever trouble comes your way, let it be an opportunity for joy. For when your faith (let me add vow) is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be strong in character and ready for anything". (James 1:2-4)

Marriages grow in character, maturity, endurance and love when our vows are tested, and during the testing we refuse to give up. We refuse to get out of a marriage prematurely and commit to see the words of our vow through. Those few simplistic words work.

This Sunday is a Celebration of Marriage as 6 couples look back at the vows they spoke many years ago. On that wedding day the vows were spoken, now they are understood, valued and reaffirmed.

I'm wondering if there should be a label on our vows that says:
Some assembly required, batteries not included.

P.S. the photos are the "before and maturing" pictures of Gerry and Heidi.

Grandchild Genius

2007-02-12T11:36:00.000-08:00

My Grandchildren are geniuses, all of them. This weekend I came across another example. I'm still in awe.

We made the trek this weekend to Kamloops. As an added feature we decided to take Annalise with us. And if that's not joy enough in itself, we get 4 hours of Veggie Tale Silly Songs. I was hoping that Heidi's new car, with the major happenin' stereo, would bring out new sounds that met my musical flavour. But no, just the accented tones of a vegetable.

We had a great time at Chrissie, Aaron's and 4 grandchildren. We think we have been able to bond with all of them. Carter, 1.5 years old takes a particular shine to me, Papa G. I'm honored. I actually talk to him often on the phone, but I need to confess that I didn't understand a word of his lengthy, never take a breath, stories. I just "oh, wow, you're a good boy". It has seemed to satisfy on Carter's end.

It was not until this weekend that I realized that Carter is actually talking. Not only is he talking but he's fluent. He's a linguistic genius. He has created his own language with a very extensive vocabulary and he has done it with 3 consonants and a vowel. Thanks to my daily routine of watching Wheel of Fortune that I was tipped off to this marvel.

Carter has selected "B, D, P" as his consonants and "A" as his vowel. Let me illustrate. "Papa D Dad apa bab" translated into English is "Papa G, get out of bed". Or, "Dadaba pad daba ad da dapada" in English is "Somebody put liver in my cereal." And with that, we carry on and enjoy lengthy conversations.

Every child has something to say. I'm glad I took the time to sit, listen and learn. Here's hoping your grandchildren will be as brilliant as mine.

Braving the snow!

2007-01-10T14:05:00.000-08:00

I'm holding out just fine in today's snow. It's 2:00pm, we passed the 1 foot mark a couple hours back and it's still pilling high.

As you may have heard, I'm not exactly the biggest fan of the stuff. I've shoveled and scraped, slipped and fallen. I've donated my body to the perils of downhill skiing and the forever favorite skating. I know, many have longed for the whining to end. However, the joy of snow is gone.

And yet I'm determined to find a way to suffer through it. The Hot Tub! Aaahhh! Now, let me tell you that it comes with it's own challenges. Balancing coffee cups and walking the four feet in the cold is not for the feeble. But the elements were braved and successful submerging was accomplished.

Anyway, thought you just might be interested in the picture and a little dialogue.

Have a great day!

New Years Resolution

2007-01-09T13:32:00.000-08:00

You're right, I've not published a blog in a little while. I really think that the excuse is quite reasonable. I've been waiting for a New Years Resolution to commence.

It's generally been quite simple. The family has usually supplied them for me. It's worked for me. It's like the "People's Resolution". The full weight of resolution is not mine alone but that of our entire family. If I fail, guilt is significantly minimized than if it were my own.

For example, on January 1, 2006, Heidi, flanked by heavy-handed, finger-waving daughters on either side, gave me my resolution for this past year. "You will not eat French Fries in 2006". And really, I was quite satisfied with the idea. Took all the guess work and introspective navel gazing out of it for me.

I took the staff out for lunch and proudly announce my resolution, no fries. Did it work? Well, much better than if I would have made it by myself. The year is over. There was a 67.3% reduction in fries consumption. I kept track.

Now it's 2007 and no resolution.

Here's my idea for all of us. Let's create a new tradition. I'm thinking it would be a lot easier if we made resolutions for other people rather than ourselves. I could go to a neighbour and announce that his New Years resolution is to stop his dog from pooping on my front lawn. And it would be fair and reasonable. Because, this is what we do on New Years, it would be taken without insult.

There would be so many applications for this plan. On New Years day, you could hang your head out of the car window and tell an idiot driver (fill in your own definition) to stop being an idiot for the next year. And he would be bound. Tell a drive-through fast food order-taker to use vowels and consonants each time the microphone is used. And the list could be endless.

Why not start a new tradition today. Tell an acquaintance how to shape up his/her act for 2007.

Christmas Eve in Kamloops

2006-12-28T11:17:00.000-08:00

Here's the plan. We're going to Kamloops for Christmas Eve. Sounds simple doesn't it? A little 4 hour drive, family cheer, grandchildren hanging all over you, food, presents and then a relaxing trip back home to Maple Ridge.

Well, having successfully accomplished this feet numerous times, let me tell you that there is more than a heart-warmed dream needed to carry out the plan. In reality, the multiplicity of an Science Degrees that include Engineering, Political Science, Social Work, the Environment and a whole lot of self control are just a little more than helpful. We watch a few episodes of the Super-Nanny just so that we see firsthand what type of behaviours we promise to avoid.

A decision is made. Heidi and I, Chris and Tanya with Annalise are going to spend the night of December 23 at Chrissie and Aaron's home in Kamloops and then get back to Maple Ridge for our own Christmas Eve festivities.

The plan is to take our little Chevy. Two of us are asked to stay out of the car packing plan, apparently our minds are not equipped to maximize every square inch of the Chevy in order to fit gifts, overnight necessities and in-flight entertainment and snacks. Everything is carefully weighed measured and fit into it's predestined space. A seating plan is then coordinated, I'm blessed with the shotgun seat for the first leg of the journey. Chris is appropriately folded and maneuvered into the back. A final Environment Canada Weather check is viewed from every possible perspective to ensure the appropriate window of opportunity to conquer the Coquihalla Pass. At 8:00 am we make a run for it.

About 20 minutes in we decide that it's time for a CD that will provide us hours of silly songs. And we enjoy it, why? because it's part of the plan. In fact, we sing along, for the next four hours.

Our stops include Maple Ridge, Abbotsford, Chilliwack, Hope, a one hour stop because of an accident, Coquihalla Toll booth, Merritt and then Kamloops. You would think with so many brains aboard someone would have thought to also coordinate the potty break.

I mentioned the accident. Yes, another SUV with a peanut brain occupying the driver. "Look at me! I'm big! I'm Invincible! I can go fast on ice, even around corners!" NOT. This particular SUV driver decided to attempt skidding all the way to the Toll Booth on his roof. He failed. We waited.

Our 4 hour trip turned to 6. On Chrissie and Aaron's driveway we cheer with the excitement that one would expect when a Canuck scores a goal. Grand kids come running out of the house with expressions that would thrill a Troll. We open the doors only to discover that rigor mortis has set in, the jaws of life are employed and we find freedom. Nothing a little "eggnog" can't fix. Let the festivities begin.

We did have a great time! Chrissie and Aaron were great hosts and the grand kids, Abby, Hudson and Carter provided superb entertainment wrapped in lots of enthusiasm and love. Their month-long pent up stories explode in our face. Our eyebrows became cramped in the lifted position.

As the wrapping paper begins to fly, Charlie the dog (Golden Retriever) wrestles each shred of paper to the ground. There are screams and laughter along with the request of whether or not we still have the receipts. And I have to stop and think, "Wow, I'm somewhat responsible for all of this." And I'm happy and proud. Family. I was reminded again as to how blessed we are.

8:00am, Christmas eve. We're assigned our seating in the little Chevy. I'm still riding shotgun. 20 minutes into the trip we listen to the Veggie Tale Characters sing Christmas Carols. We sing along and look for the next possible potty break stop.

Trust your Christmas came with a little adventure and joy.

Merry Christmas

2006-12-21T12:29:00.000-08:00

It's only December 21st and so, realistically there is lots of time to send you my greetings, but why wait, I'm determined to get a jump on this joyous exercise.

It's been a boring year. I mean, I'm just being truthful. I really can't think of anything that happened that resulted in a response, "Awesome, I can't wait to tell people about this in my Christmas Newsletter." And so, please indulge me by reading with the appropriate expressions of awe and surprise. If I know you're doing that, it'll help me create a few stories.

Ready? Let's just do a quick checklist review.
New Grandchildren - 0
Lottery winnings - 0
Massive real estate profits - 0
Governor General bravery awards - 0

Other than that, let me throw a few things and experiences at you.

Heidi began running. It had something to do with being 50 and having a lot of pent-up menopause energy. As a result she began training in 2005 to run a few races which included the Vancouver 1/2 Marathon, Terry Fox 10 km and the Pitt Meadows 10 km of which she won gold in her age group. Not bad eh? This young Omi has the stuff. Did my grandmothers run marathons? NOT.

Heidi continues to work at 7 Oaks Alliance Church where she spends all their money. All's well there. She's enjoying her work.

Just last week we returned from a Holiday in Mexico. It was a great rest for both us us.

Me? Well, I've taken an early retirement. That's right, first in the family. The only hitch to the good news is that it was not planned. On September 20th I suffered a MS relapse which has led me to apply for long term disability. On January 19th I am officially on a disability pension.

On the upside, I got a puppy. Max is a "Pugapoo", a very demeaning sissy name for this nearly all-man breed. I've not broken the news to him that he has a sissy name. We're having fun. Any time either of us does something smart or good, we both get a treat. I like the arrangement.

What's my future? Well, Space Travel and the Boston Marathon are officially off.

In the last year I started a Web design and Graphic Arts business as a hobby. Elpis Web and Graphic Solutions is now owned by Heidi and Tanya. I help out a bit with a few of the accounts and do some of the more technical stuff.

Chris and Tanya are in process of adopting a baby. They have completed all the paperwork and home studies. At this moment they have their hearts set on Liberia. You can read about it on a little website that Tanya has built. It's possible that a new grandchild will be in our home by spring time. Annalise prays daily for her little "sister".

Tanya started new employment at an after school program for school kids here in Maple Ridge. When they're home, time is spent building two businesses, Elpis and Left Coast Minis.

Aaron and Chrissie still live in Kamloops where he works at Weyerhaeuser. Chrissie has just accepted a Ministry position at Southwest Community Church where she will serve as their Children's ministry Director. She most likely begins part time studies at Regent in the Spring. Their 3 kids are doing great and we're proud of them all.

On a very sad note, Heidi's Mutti passed away on December 13th of this year. We were vacationing in Mexico at the time we received the news. I'll always remember Heidi's mom as a gentle, caring person who worked tirelessly. Some of my fondest memories are of Mutti giving her entire heart and effort to teach me German. I was not nearly as good a student as she was a teacher. I never completed the course.

Heidi and I are thankful for God's blessings. "I wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him" Psalm 62:5. That's our prayer and promise for 2007.

May the Lord bless each of you with a blessed Christmas Season.

Pretty, Pretty Snow

2006-11-28T15:24:00.000-08:00

I've taken a second look outside and yes, the snow is so lovely, it looks so soft and beautiful. In fact I had to take a photo just to show everyone.

How could I have been so calloused in the previous post. I can hardly wait to go out and play!

Not

Snow and Liver

2006-11-28T08:15:00.000-08:00

I simply have a very low view of snow. I don't ski, grow grain, toboggan or skate. I wouldn't say it's because I'm a wimp, I just dislike it. Snow to me is like liver, disgusting. I have survived the winter of '75 where the winter blast made the current one look like an autumn breeze. I've experienced 10 years of Southern Ontario winters and had the seriously non-delight of Shoveling 17 feet of it in Sparwood. There's nothing about snow that I need.

And to back up my views, let me just say that I'm in good company. Jesus had no use for snow.

Think about it, there were many times when Jesus could have given his approval. Was there ever a time that he turned water into snow? And yes, he gave his endorsement to wine. He could have provided the wedding guests with a snow cone, but no.

Then there was the time that the disciples were crossing the Sea of Galilee and a great storm arose. The disciples wake Jesus and ask him if he cares that they are going to drown. Did Jesus stand up and turn the water into ice and enable them to walk the rest of the way? Right again. He chose the path of warmth and stillness.

Just one more illustration. Was there ever a time when Jesus was approached by a person that was in need of healing, and he provided them a cold compress? Exactly! My point exactly. He had no need for cold or snow. In fact, I've often thought that it must have been a tough heavenly decision on whether to make hell hot or cold.

Now, I do realize that there are 21 references to snow in the Bible. The stain of sin shall be made white as snow and when Jesus returns we will see his hair as white as snow. However, we are hard pressed to find snow being walked upon or shoveled. In addition, I believe that the snow that the Bible talked about was warm.

Snow and liver. I have a significant distaste for both.

(the photo is of a hike Ken, Bob and I took to Lost Lake one winter many years ago.)

Penguins and Papa G

2006-11-21T13:41:00.000-08:00

It was time for a new adventure. I'm not talking about the Grouse Grind or swimming the Fraser, but may I boldly suggest, equally courageous.

It's Saturday. Heidi and I have the pleasure of spending time with Annalise. Some people call it babysitting. It's about that time that I have a thought, I capture it, even remember it. I could take Annalise to the movies. Now understand the adventure, I'm talking about just the two of us. Unchaperoned and without video surveillance.

"Annalise, would you like to go to the movies with Papa G?" Naturally, she's an easy sell.

We begin the online search for the perfect movie for this inaugural movie date event. I'm thinking the new James Bond movie. She's set on the Penguin deal.

Heidi carefully monitors the pe-movie prep. "Gerry do you have to go potty first?"

And off we go. Hand in hand (basically to help keep my balance), we nearly skip across the parking lot and into the lobby. Tickets are purchased. The concession booth is bypassed because Papa G has strategically hidden the snack stash. The best seat is secured and we begin to watch 20 minutes of previews. Nearly every question is answered at a 3 year old's level of appreciation. The theater is filled and I'm easily the oldest person in the theater.

All in all, it went great. Between each preview there was a moment of blackness on the screen to which Annalise hollers out that she can't see anything. Miraculously I fixed the problem. "Papa G, how come everybody else has popcorn and I don't." To which I resolve by revealing the stash. All's well.

And then the movie. 1 hour and 50 minutes. We laugh and cry. There's scary parts to which Annalise asks me if I'm okay. The Penguins sing and dance. There's romance, danger and even a subtle lesson on the environment. It's never too early for a 3 year old to think Green.

And I feel old.

To think I was well advanced in my teen years before there was a color TV. And here we're watching it on a 50' screen. How will I explain to our grandchildren how at one time you watched TV in your choice of 3 colors? Shall we make the faces red or green? It's incomprehensible and so I'll skip that story, "Now when I was your age...."

Just another day in Papa G...ville.

What's with the name ELPIS?

2006-11-15T10:23:00.000-08:00

Okay, so there's a few people confused, amused and even offended with my web / blog name, ELPIS.

It's almost like a Xenophobic (fear of the unknown) experience for a few people. Symptoms of fear of the unknown: breathlessness, dizziness, excessive sweating, nausea, dry mouth, shaking, heart palpitations, inability to speak or think clearly, a fear of dying, becoming mad or losing control, a sensation of detachment from reality or a full blown anxiety attack.

Okay, like I've seriously overplayed the ELPIS reaction.

Well, a little story to help.

A number of years back I became interested in building websites. With the careful and wise tutoring of my nephew, Terrence, I actually developed a skill. As the years went along, I began to be asked to build and maintain websites for people and companies and with that the development of a hobby business. All this without a name. Imagine a business without a name.

As a somewhat au courant geek fo the original Greek Language, my thoughts went to a word that is quite common in the original writings of the New Testament. That's the word, HOPE, or in greek, ELPIS.

Everybody is looking for hope. With health, relationships, finances and the future. We all need and seek out hope. By this word, ELPIS, I'm reminded that the answers for lasting hope is found in the Scriptures.

Proverbs 23:18 (New International Version)
18 There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off.

(since my MS relapse and pending long term disability, ELPIS is now managed by my daughter, Tanya)

Time For a Little Reality

2006-11-08T15:18:00.000-08:00

I'm thinking back to about 1980. It's Sunday morning and I have gone to pick up a family for Church. Nothing unusual about the day, in fact, I can recall being a little bored. Interesting how one of those days can find an event that you will never forget.

I have barely stopped by their home when they come running from the house in a state of euphoria. The twin girls (15 years old), lead the family team in near cartwheel enthusiasm. This is not normal. I've never seen this family have energy for anything other than a remote control and so the cartwheel explosion catches my attention. Something very good must have happened. Perhaps my hours of engaging them in therapy has made a breakthrough.

As they climb aboard for Sunday School, they immediately commence wrestling for my attention to inform me of the most amazing announcement. I can't understand a word. At the best of times the family vocabulary extends to about 87 words, and that's if they combine all the cognitive thoughts that have passed through the family cranium cavity. In first two minutes of climbing aboard they have extended their communicative ability to 98. Amazing!

I'm thinking, okay, they could be all smacked up on Speed, or, one of them has had a successful experiment in creating toast. It even could be that they've discovered what the "mute" button on their remote control does.

Finally the first intelligible words, "The war is over!!!" On any given day that would be very exciting news, but I had trouble bringing to mind what war that could be. I really need them to clarify. "We saw it on TV last night! The war is over!!" I ask them which country they're talking about but that seems to be a stretch for them. I just allow them their moment of joy.

It's about 10 minutes into the conversation when they finally get it out that they saw it on the M.A.S.H. TV show. They had watched the last episode. It changed their life. The war truly had ended.

Now, how do I explain to them that M.A.S.H. is just a show? I make a feeble attempt but I'm cut down much too quickly. They are running high and no one will bring them down. And so I think to myself, what harm can happen by allowing them this massive gap from reality. After all, they are not breaking the law. Reality was not something anywhere near their grasp. Somehow, for them, this show was reality. I'm trying to think of what possible life lesson or benefit I can make of this. And I'm drawing a big blank.

Then it comes. Wouldn't it be cool to create a Reality News Show where the Reality Confused are invited to be the News Commentators. News as they see and understand it.

Now that's bringing entertainment to a whole new level.

(Yes, the M.A.S.H. story is true)

Tuck and Roll

2006-11-05T16:58:00.001-08:00

A couple of weeks back Heidi and I went to visit our Grandchildren in Kamloops. We are always delighted to gain a few hours of celebrity status when they find us at their doorstep.

Initially the visit takes the course of our regular routine. We put on an amazing display of being mesmerized by their latest artistic creations and listen to the jaw dropping, inspiring stories that they have to tell.

Not too long into our visit I found that I was suddenly part of a game. A War Game. It seemed to be a blending of Afghanistan, Star Wars and the Wild Wild West. Hudson is in his Darth Vedar attire, complete with the headgear and a Light Saber complete with lights and sound. Abby is totting a sub machine gun with a not so realistic sound mechanism but real enough to be annoying. Carter, the youngest is carrying a couple of six guns. I've been handed a rather used and scarred light saber void of lights and sound.

This game is a bit of a stretch for this Papa G on a few fronts. I'm just a good ole' Mennonite boy where Mom and Dad never allowed us to play with weapons (the whole pacifist thing). I've not mastered the Light Saber techniques and have not even seen that many war movies. I'm going to battle with a considerable handicap. However, enthusiasm prevails.

The game commences and I make myself believe that I'm holding my own until I'm introduced to a unique twist to the game. In every battle there is a "hill to conquer". I've become that hill. I don't know if that was the original plan but somehow I've become the target of everyone. Even Charlie, the dog, seems to have understood who it is that needs to be brought down.

Now, in the few gun battles that I've watched on TV, I've seen a maneuver that the survivors have employed. It's called the tuck and roll. It may have been one of my brain cells that told me this would be a good idea. Even though it's only one brain cell, for some reason I pay attention to it. "Employ the Tuck and Roll."

Things go terribly wrong! I realize very quickly that the best that a 51 year old Papa G with MS, trying to Tuck and Roll, can pull off is a Stagger and Fall.

The hill has been conquered. 53 seconds!

And so what's to be learned? Yes, ignore that one particular braincell. But also that everyone of us can be promoted to our level of incompetence. I found mine. The domain that I succeed in is listening to the jaw dropping stories and being mesmerized by the latest artistic creations. I can even tell a pretty amazing story.

That's where I rule!

(some parts of this story have a minor resemblance to the facts)

Papa G

2006-11-04T14:01:00.000-08:00

I go by a few names, some of which I feel are a little less than desirable. I dislike "Ger". My name has already been reduced for your communicative ease from Gerald. And that name no longer works because it brings fond memories of my Mother. Well, maybe not so fond. When I heard "Gerald" it usually meant that I was in some serious trouble. Gerry works just fine.

And it's something about titles as well. Reverend sounds so prudish, Uncle is a little too distant, and even Dad is too patriarchal. Again, Gerry works just fine.

Around 6 years back it was explained to me that I was going to be a grandfather. The family had to bring the news to me in little steps. They know me well. "Grandfather?" I was much too young and cool to be grandfather (my reality may differ slightly from those around me). And so, in tandem performance with the choosing of a baby name, we also set out to find the right name for this Grandpa. And hence the name "Papa G". It was tested similarly with any prototype. The regular surveys and public opinion polls.

I have to tell you, the first time Abigayle was able to identify me with the name Papa G, it had to be the best name I'd ever heard. I truly was Papa G. Since then each of our 4 grandchildren know me by that name. Some people will occasionally ask the grand kids, "Is this your grandpa?" (referring of course to me). And with great delight, I hear them say, "No, that's my Papa G."

Grandchildren are awesome. If I would have known they were this much fun I would have skipped the children stage and gone directly to grandchildren.

Victims By Choice

2006-11-04T11:24:00.001-08:00

I personally do not favor the fall fashion designs of martyrdom. And yet, it is so easy to clothe ourselves as victims of the circumstances that have found their way into our lives.

Believe me, I know the routine well. Stuff happens throughout the process of life that you have had no control over. People claim injustice at the hands of friends, family and employers. Others can point fingers at their parents and stake the claim of unfair treatment. In my case, I've been dealt the unfortune of failed health. You can probably point to your own distasteful cicircumstantial flavour.

In my recent readings I came across a statement that will serve me well. “I will not be a victim of my circumstances”. Meaning, you are personally responsible for how you respond to the stuff in your life. You alone take your lower lip and pull it up to your nostrils and staple it there (it’s part of the martyr look).

Some good things remain true throughout the journey of rotten life stuff. The key thing that has kept me in a somewhat right mental holding pattern is God’s purpose in my life. That will never change (Jeremiah 29:11). The purpose and plan of God is never misery or bitterness but purposeful and rewarding.

And so, what is God’s purpose for my life? As I understand it, many years ago (30 years), God called me into pastoral ministries to come alongside people in their quest to know God and His purpose for their lives. New circumstances only provide me with a new arena of influence. He is enlarging my territory (1 Chronicles 4:10). In that, I can be thankful.

—– thanks for reading today’s introspective thought

Here We Go!

2006-11-04T11:22:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the inaugural conversation for the entire blogging world to read. Actually, it’s here as a result of a number of requests that i start using this forum to say what i have to say and communicate some of the thoughts that have found their way into the cranium cavity above my shoulders. And so, if I’m purely honest, I will have concluded all my origional thoughts and ideas within the next few weeks.

Well, who is Gerry Peters? I started in full time ministry in 1973. During that time I have spent most of my time in pastoral ministry. It’s been great. At the end of the day it has provided a whole lot more delightful stories rather that the alternative (there has been a few stories to tell there as well, but those will probably part of another blog).

Currently I am in the process of applying for Long Term Disability. My extremely resourceful and delightful medical team tells me that I developed MS in 1983. Just now, it has finally caught up to me so that I cannot continue in a gainfully employed position. Hence, this blog.

I hope you have fun and a little inspiration along the way as you follow my entries. And please, let me know that you’re reading and tell me if there is any benefit to your life.