A New Low

I was talking with my mom and her friend the other day about family heirlooms.  It seems that some of her friend’s children just don’t feel the value of inherited items such as their grandmothers china sets, their great-grandmother’s silver flatware or even their jewelry.  I wondered if the value, or lack thereof, transcends into Grandmother herself.  It seems that euthanasia is growing in it’s support so it would appear that along with her china and her mother’s flatware, no one wants Grandma any more either.

There’s a woman, whom I will call Diane.  I have known her for sometime now, longer than some of her husbands.  She was in a conversation and said to her friend, who was having difficulties with her husband, “I get rid of them once they start to cause me trouble.  It’s not worth the hassle.”  Presently, as far as I know, she is on her third husband.  She isn’t yet fifty.

I have another friend, Michelle, who is in her second marriage.  Last summer, there were problems in that relationship and the couple was preparing to separate.  Michelle had already become involved with someone else and was preparing to enter into marriage number three.  Michelle isn’t even forty yet.

Then I hear the news of, what I think, is a new low and serves to highlight how little we place value on what should truly matter. 

It seems that St. Paul’s Hospital in Vancouver, British Columbia is reviving “A centuries-old tradition of providing abandoned babies safe harbour in hospitals ...Starting Monday, the Angel’s Cradle program will be available to desperate mothers who need to abandon their babies anonymously.”

How sad it has become that we actually “need” this.  We have put a limit on the number of garbage bags we place out at the curb before paying extra, we are not permitted to idle our vehicles for more than two minutes without the possibility of a fine, we need to seek a city permit if we want to build a shed larger than 100 square feet, our lawn must be kept to certain length, but feel free to abandon your child with no questions asked.

As mentioned it is being touted as a resurgence of a centuries old practice of allowing a safe place for children.  I don’t buy it.  It’s really just another means of shirking our responsibility without repercussions.  A radio commentator today explained that this new program should reduce the occurrence of “dumpster babies.”  You know what else could reduce the occurrence of dumpster babies?  Morals.  Abstinence.  Marriage and family.    

Instead of taking a stand and risking offending someone, lets just take one more step in the decline of culture.  Forget morals and values, who needs ‘em.

Everyone has a story.  Even the abandoned children in our modern country.  I wonder what they will tell the next generation?

I Want To Be A Bird Brain

I lay in bed this morning under the window as the crisp April air drifts through the curtains.  I am greeted this morning with the haunting call of the mourning doves who have nested in the hedges not far from the sill, the shrillness of the crow, grackle and starling, the sweet chirps of the many sparrows, the vibrating sound of the red-winged black bird, the whistle of the many robins returned from their winter vacation in the south and the cheerful morning song from the northern cardinal.  We call him Bob.  I don't know why.

I live in the city, work full time, raise my family, ride a motorbike, serve in prison and seniors ministry yet the simplicity of the sounds of God’s creation greet me today and give a sense of serenity and peace in the midst of a busy world.  There must be something we can learn from our feathered friends.  Matthew 6:26 (NIV) reads “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?”

Without even going deep into an exegetical analysis of the origins and interpretations, it seems that the birds know that there is someone over them who cares and provides.  Why do we worry so much?  The birds who sometimes seem to dart around without reason do much the same as we ought to; provide for their family, enjoy the engagement with each other, build a suitable home that meets their needs using what is provided for them, sing like no one is listening, dance in the rain, bask in the sun, early to bed, early to rise.  In contrast, we often get to busy for others, neglect the ones we love, buy and build bigger and better, find embarrassment in others ‘catching’ us sing or dance, especially in the rain, lather up the sun screen or stay indoors, stay up late (often working) and getting up early only to go back out to work, or some times sleep until noon.

The birds may just have something on us.  As many of us work our tails off to keep up with the Jones’, we miss out on the simple things in life.  We fail to trust that God is looking out for us...what makes us think we can do better?

Again I am reminded of the basics.  Trust.  Enjoy.  Rest.  Listen.  Everyone has a story.  Even the birds.

Lunch with a Magic Man

After celebrating on Good Friday with a Crosswalk to City Hall, we returned to the church for a soup lunch.  We decided to try and sit with people that we didn’t know that well and soon found ourselves sitting with a magician!

That doesn’t happen everyday so I thought this could be interesting!

They call him, The Amazing Corbin.  I asked if his name was, in fact, Corbin.  Turns out it isn’t, but his wife came up with the name after a ride out on their motorbike.  She explained that she looked down and saw that they were rising on a Corbin seat, and the name stuck with them.  I never did learn his name.  On a side note, their son’s middle name is also Corbin.

Corbin wouldn’t reveal any of his trade secrets to me, but invited me to come and see a show if I wanted to see his magic.  Typical magician.  Can’t say I blame him though.

Corbin worked previously as a nurse in our local hospital.  The magic man explained that the hospital made the ‘mistake’ of putting him on the night shift where he was only required every couple of hours to turn the patients over.  This left him with a lot of time on his hands.  Rather than ranting about the pitfalls of dreadful night shifts, Corbin took up learning magic!  After five years of nursing, Corbin entered into the magical world of, well, magic.  He has been entertaining crowds everywhere for over 12 years, but the past 8 years have been full time!

Imagine, leaving the health care field for a life filled with magic, and getting paid for it!

Check out the Amazing Corbin at www.theamazingcorbin.com

I was sitting in the chair with my opthomologist’s office and I asked him, “How long have you been doing this?”  He replies, “About ten years.”  I say, “Do you enjoy it?”  He says, “It’s a job.  There are worse things to do.”  I would suggest to any doctors reading this, this is not the comment to make to instill confidence in your patients.

Later that evening I was at a local high school with my daughter and was chatting with the custodian.  He had been doing the same job for 17 years and told me that he really enjoyed it!

I got to thinking so I went online to check out salaries of these very different men.  Get this:

Opthomologist: $300,000 - $400,000 annually.

Custodian: $12.00 - $18.00 per hour

There’s apparently a wage difference, but I had already assumed this.  So what was it that makes the rich doctor feeling almost indifferent about his job, while the blue collar custodian was full of joy?  Unfortunately I didn’t get to talk with either of these men for any length of time so I still don’t know, but be assured it isn’t about the money.

I wonder about their personal lives, their marriages and family relationships, their faith, their community activity and their activities outside the job.  Sure, we would like to have a six digit income, but I suggest that the world would be a better, or at least more joyful place if we carried the same joy as the custodian.  Maybe it’s it the simplicity.  The fact that he sees the immediate results of his work and knows that he has contributed to the school community.

Whatever the differences, everyone has a story.  I will see them again, and hopefully will  have the chance to hear more about their lives.