A prayer from Ole

This one isn't mine, but it really touched my heart when I heard it, so I wanted to share it with all of you...

Ole is praying to God one evening, thinking about his wife, Lena, and offers this up:

"O God, why did you make my wife the way you did? Why did you make her so kind, so beautiful, so gifted at caring for me?"

"Ole, I made her that way so that you would love her..."

"Ok God, thank you, but why did you have to make her so STUPID?"

"Well, Ole, I made her that way so that she would love you..." ;)

Community

I like this. I like writing, reading what others write, being able to "hear" the opinions of people I never converse with. But blogging is like a conversation, replete with statements and comments, and comments on comments. I like it.

Enjoying the blogworld puts me smack-in-the-middle of an community I never thought I'd join:

cell-phone: never!

instant messaging: couldn't be bothered!

blogging: what's blogging?

Well, needless to say, I have grown in the last few years to really appreciate this world. I suppose it's popular because it's got some great advantages... and I like it.

A community linked through computer screens (which are much less intrusive than they once were - my flat panel display is a welcome addition) and wireless media. Many would argue that it's not a community at all, but if you're reading this, you know different, don't you?

Welcome to the real world, Neo.

Champions

If you don't follow sports, or don't care about the CFL in general, you may not know that the Edmonton Eskimos won the Grey Cup on Sunday, beating the Montreal Alouettes 38-35 in overtime. This is particularly comforting for me as I have been redeemed for my recent backstab (read about it in Traitor) of this great franchise!

I attended the game here in Vancouver, making myself one of the 59, 157 fans packing BC Place for the CFL championship game. I wore my golden sweatshirt and stood up for the green and gold every chance I had. I was sitting in the close confines of bitter Lions fans who hated the "cheaters" (their nickname for the Eskimos following the Western conference finals game where Edmonton beat BC in Vancouver) and wanted to see them lose. Fortunately, these bitter fans are also my friends, so their hostility was generally directed towards the team and not its fans (i.e. - me). Well, there was the one incident when I was smacked in the back of the head with a lead pipe at halftime, but that's another story...

Needless to say, renewing my cheers for Edmonton restored some of the child in me, giving the green and gold a current in this displaced Albertan's veins once more. I will learn from this and never go back...

GREEN AND GOLD FOR LIFE !!!

so there.

Traitor?

I must admit I left the Sunday afternoon football game with some mixed feelings. I attended the game with 4 Forstbauers and 3 of their family/friends, all of whom are great BC Lions fans. This playoff game was even more of an important event in their eyes and they were decked out in orange, yelling and screaming like usual but with the added effect of three drums and a trumpet! It was (it always is) fun to go to a game with fans like the Forstbauers...

This family has had 8 seasons' tickets for as many years as I've known them and that's going on ten years now. Loyal fans who enjoy the CFL (they are out there). I even bought one of their season tickets from them about three years ago and managed to get to just about half the home games. It was a lot of fun! They certainly make the BC Lions and the CFL a worthwhile experience.

The mixed feelings I mentioned didn't arise from the fact that BC ended up losing the game, securing a woeful 1-7 record for the second half of the season after starting it 11-0! They were caused by a yellow sweatshirt...

I spent the vast majority of my life in Alberta and grew up a big fan of the Edmonton Eskimos. When I was a youngster, Warren Moon led the Esks to three Grey Cup victories (I think) before going on to a hall of fame career in the NFL. I loved knowing who he was before the NFL fans really caught on to how good he was! His teams, including Gizmo Williams, drew me in and made me love the CFL. I would be green and gold for life!

Anytime Edmonton came to town (here in Vancouver) I made a greater effort to get out to the game so I could be "one of those guys" who would cheer for the visiting team. That was how it worked, remember, I was green and gold for life...

Well, this game was a big game. Huge! The winner would move on to the Grey Cup and a shot at the championship of the CFL. I stuck my yellow sweatshirt in my backpack and went to the game. Unfortunately, other than a brief appearance during the warmups (when I tied it to the railing in front of me) this symbol of faithfulness, this declaration of allegiance never saw the light of day. I watched the Forstbauers and their fervent support of the Lions and made a decision: I would not cheer for the Eskimos today. I won't cheer against them, but I won't cheer for them either. It would prove to be an interesting choice.

The Eskimos won the game 28-23 and will play in the Grey Cup on Sunday, which I could go to if I wanted to pay for it ($150.00!!). My team is in the Grey Cup in the city where I live and I have access to a field level ticket to the sold out game (sold out seven weeks ago) and I'm not going to go....green and gold for life?

The mixed feelings arose when I wondered if something fundamental in me died on Sunday: a little piece of romanticized idealism birthed in childhood, my loyalty to the Eskimos. The child in me questioned why I didn't wear the sweatshirt, scream for my team and celebrate the victory. I didn't have an answer other than to say I was honoring my friends' wishes, the loyal Forstbauers who had invited me to the game. The child in me shook his head and snorted, unimpressed.

I'm still a little mixed up by it all, though not in any significant way. I know I can always go back to bleeding green and gold for life...I just have to wait for the next game.

Poll: Should I go to the Grey Cup? Yes or no...opinions?

HAPPY!

Your Inner Child Is Happy

You see life as simple, and simple is a very good thing. You're cheerful and upbeat, taking everything as it comes. And you decide not to worry, even when things look bad. You figure there's just so many great things to look forward to.

How Is Your Inner Child?

Canada Immigration

Hotel Max was great! I would recommend it to anyone heading to Canada Immigration in Seattle! The room was small, but nice and very clean. The hotel is brand new (renovated with name change, opened in Oct) and it shows. I liked it alot! Plus, it is next door to the office building housing the Canadian consulate. Ideal.
And no, we didn't try out any of their special packages...thanks, Drew.

The reason that Alex and I had to head down to Seattle was Canada Immigration. For those who don't know, Alex is a Guatemalan who legally lives in Canada through the everpresent grace of a Work Permit issued by immigration. Three years ago, she applied to become a Landed Immigrant in this nation of ours and on Wednesday, Nov 9, 2005, she finally had an interview!

Many of us never have to deal with long term immigration issues (I know I never had before) so the process and the depression that accompanies it is quite extraordinary. I have always thought of Canada as a laid-back, fun-loving kinda place with big hearts for people. One visit to the Canadian consulate in Seattle made it clear that this is not the image others would receive while they try to gain access to our lovely nation!

Cold, sterile and impersonal, the waiting room was filled with people bearing a strange countenance...it was the glimmer of hope, but combined with the pall of resignation, as though each one was convinced that the hope to which they held would be pulled from their grasp quite soon. It was a terrible atmosphere. And my wife, Alex, had this same countenance upon her.

After realizing this, I prayed with Alex in that room, that God would reveal Himself with warmth and joy, that smiles and conversation would pepper this waiting room rather than the gloom of impending doom. I'm glad we prayed. Alex had her interview and I waited. While waiting, I observed a palpable change in the presence of the room. People were joking with the neighbors, little kids were evoking "OOooOOOooo, isn't he cute!!!!" statements from various onlookers, and most everyone was smiling. That was nice to see, cause I was disappointed I couldn't go in with Alex. When they sent notice of the interview (a whole two weeks ahead of time - for an interview at 8:00am on a Wednesday in Seattle! - how considerate), they indicated that I would be interviewed as well and I was excited to take part. Unfortunately, I sat in my seat and waited for a call-up that would never occur :(

Alex emerged from the interview quite charged however... she was accepted! After three years of waiting, much pain and confusion (the story is very long), she was told by a Canadian official that she will recieve her Landed Immigrant papers in the new year (assuming her FBI report comes back positive, her medical status is clear, her Guatemalan passport is updated with her married name and mailed in, blah, blah, blah). The real point to the story is that Alex is finally in. A real, live person told her to her face that she is okay for Canada! Good times.

We celebrated with a wonderful Cajun meal in the food court (I know, I'm so romantic), a speeding ticket on the I-5, and a bunch of shopping at the outlet stores. We both bought a new pair of shoes. These are the ones I bought...Yay!!

Go Canada!

Hotel Max

I decided to glance over my blog after that last post and realized that I've been running on a pretty negative (or at least serious) trip for the last while.

Thus, something to smile about! This evening, my wife and I will travel across the U.S. border to the bustling metropolis of Seattle to stay at the new Hotel Max...
Alex and I have an appointment with Canadian Immigration in the morning at 8:00 and made the choice to drive and sleep rather than sleep and drive (no doubt avoiding morning rush hour in the process..me happy).

Looking for hotels is boring and tedious on the internet, so I picked the one closest to the embassy that looked nice. They have their own website, so you could check it out too!
www.hotelmaxseattle.com

They have a package called the "Hubba Bubba Hanky Panky Romance Package"..ooooo. Pretty funny!! Needless to say, I get a day off to spend with my love in sunny (yeah, right) Seattle! Gonna be great!

Do not disconnect.

My ipod's been acting up today and won't work properly. It's frustrating. The screen simply says "Do not disconnect." with huge red circle with a line through it. Doesn't matter if I shut down the computer it's attached to or use the "Safely remove device" icon in my system tray...aarrrgh.

So, despite the warning screen and the rather blunt instruction in the manual to the contrary, I disconnected my ipod.

The same screen shines...big red circle with a line through it...Do not disconnect. Something is wrong with my poor little ipod. Ain't technology grand? It'll run out of battery power sometime and maybe that'll help. Tune in for further updates...

A'ight

I remember how confused people would get when I'd use the word "a'ight." Most could not grasp the nuance of such a tight phrase. Just like exchanging "phitty" for "fifty"; it has a tendency to confuse rather than enlighten. So sad.

But that's not what is really on my mind tonight. No, I'm actually thinking about being a'ight. I mean, am I? Alright? Am I?

I believe that each day is made up of positive things and negative things and perhaps some things which could be defined as neither positive nor negative...neutral I suppose. Overall though, each situation, word, look, touch, thought, etc. carries with it some kind of effect on your mood and even your perception of how the world is turning around you.

So am I a'ight?

Today was certainly more positive than negative. Most days are. I have a life that, if it were counted as the sum of experiences, would add up to what I would assume to be a comparitively high number! I've had a great life to this date. That's encouraging, but at the end of the day does it leave me "alright?"

My friend, the Diceman, Pastor Andrew Craig, spoke of how great it feels to look at the world more idealistically, a world filled with heroes who are also role models; inspirations to something greater than...(you can check that out on his blog, Roll o the Dice)

I want to feel that way tonight, but I can't. I find myself at the end of a good day still questioning whether I'm a'ight. I want to look at the world with light, not with darkness, but the brooding mass, a void really, stalks me and stands out against the light tonight. Philosophically, I know I go home each day to my bed a changed man. I know that I end today as a different Brent than the one that woke up this morning.

I hope that when I think back to this day, with all its changes, I remember it as being a'ight.

I want to live in a world inspired to end each day with idealism alive. I want to see light on people's faces. I want to smile. I want to cry with joy. I want to be a'ight.

Shades of Grey

I suppose the title could be "Shades of Gray" but whatever. Anybody know the reason for the two different spellings of the color? Is it a simple American vs. European english thing or is one supposed to relate to something differently than the other? For example, that is a gray whale. A grey whale doesn't exist, but a gray whale does...what do you think? And if this is the case, what could the different spellings relate to? Hmmmm.

Anyhow, that has nothing to do with my post at all actually. So onwards and upwards!

My question today is: What is the difference between a story teller and a liar? I mean, I do know that they are fundamentally different things (unlike gray and grey) but why is a great storyteller applauded and encouraged to grow in his/her talent when a great liar is punished and beat down on the way to a horrible existence?

Is it the motive??

A liar tells stories to deceive and get away with something said or done that is hurtful to someone else? A liar tells stories to garner attention and bulk up a deflated self esteem?

This is in opposition to the story teller, who lies with the greater purpose of entertaining and enthusing the crowd. A story teller lies to invoke the imagination, incite emotion and lead others to feel something (and thus, sense they are truly alive) !?

I don't know if there is a fine line to draw... I think great story tellers are fantastic liars who pepper their fabrications with enough truth to draw our admiration and accept the tale laid before us. Perhaps being labelled a liar isn't such a bad thing at all? With practice, maybe the liar realizes all his/her potential and develops into a magnificent story teller, with book deals, movie scripts and a weekly PBS show. I'm sure it could happen.

Or, perhaps ultimately, he/she arrives at the highest post prepared for such talented folks and becomes a politician :)

Long story

Ok, I've decided to pick a new random question to reside in my profile. Big deal.

The thing is, I really fell in love with the answer to the first one, so I want that question and answer to survive throughout the ages, for my sake at least. What better way to do this than to simply make it a post???? Brilliant!

Here it is:

Q: Why does the taste of pennies remind you of losing a tooth?

A: Well, that's easy: 'cause my teeth are made out of copper, silly! See, I had a horrible bout of encycritoginwalatosis when I was 12 1/2 years old and 17 of my teeth fell out (along with my right arm and both kneecaps). At the time, my parents went ahead with a relatively untested procedure to replace my teeth (and the kneecaps) with common metals. Copper was cheap at the time, so there you go. The arm replacement story is even crazier!!

I like that story cause it's true. My head beeps every single time I go through security at the airport... no one there ever believes me, so I just tell 'em I have a metal plate on the right side of my skull. They always buy that :)

and I've always been dangerous... 

I've always been a thinker... 

Adding it all up

After talking about Comparison not so long ago, so it's come time to introduce Comparison's ugly cousin: Effort.

Now, Effort can be pretty confusing at times. It's complimented and encouraged (you know what I'm talking about) : "He gave it 110% and I couldn't ask for more!" and "I left it all on the field man, I gave everything I had to give!" It's heralded as a virtue and something to be celebrated...

You're wondering what I'm thinking, aren't you? Effort is a good thing! It's what separates the people with heart from the slackers out there! People who try the hardest are the people we need to encourage or else we'll have a culture that only celebrates talent and success! Effort is the hope we can give to those who work hard but still come in outside of first place...it's their trophy!

Effort truly is one of those things that can fool you. Effort can put on makeup, style the hair, head out to a darkened bar and masquerade as a knockout, but when exposed in the light, it's U-G-L-Y.

I want to be clear at this point that I am certainly approaching Effort from a unique perspective. I understand and applaud Effort as it appears in the daily lives of everyone from Joe Average to Sammy Superstar, but there is a time and a place when Effort is unwelcome, when its influence undermines and condemns...

That time is now and that place is in the heart of a stumbled believer. In my life, I can't count the times I've said to God (or others who represent Him here), "I'll try harder this time!" only to fall flat on my face again. You see, Effort is trying to help me out, but it doesn't know how. It's like the monkey who sees the fruit in the bottle and reaches in to grab it and pull it out. Effort pulls and tugs and tries to free me, but it can't figure out why it won't work! As long as it grips the fruit, the hand and prize together are too large to pass through the neck of the bottle... the only way I'm coming out of the bottle is if it's tipped up, so I can roll out on my own.

Effort clings on with the best intentions, unaware that it has no hope of success here. And that's not because Effort itself is evil, but because Efffort is the wrong tool for the task. Effort has a hard time giving up. It goes against its very nature. Effort is all about not giving up, not letting go, not accepting that something can't be done. That's why it becomes an obstacle in this time and this place. Now, and here, what we need is Submission, also known as Surrender.

The greatest lesson Effort can learn is when it needs to step out of the spotlight. Submission can sweep in, redeem the stumbling, remind them of their peace. They are saved. I might add, they are accepted and they are loved. More Effort wasn't and isn't going to take the stumbling any further, but in Submission, they may find release. Effort doesn't make us look any better, sound any better, smell any better or feel any better before the One. Submission is the only suit we need...

While Effort can, and should, be appreciated, my sincere hope is that when it comes to your journey towards true life and freedom, you wouldn't try so hard.

To Read or Not To Read...That is the Question

Instructions are great. I almost always read instructions. For building something, using a new remote control, how to work the alarm system at work, whatever that little book instructs, I listen. I'm a good boy.

Now, don't get me started on those who do not read instructions. My wife is one of those people! Such boldness! Such reckless abandon! Imagine, you buy something, pull it out of the box and just USE IT !!!!?!?!?! How can anyone do this? I mean, sure you save yourself anywhere from 10 minutes to a couple of hours (depending on your perceptive capabilities and the complexity of the item for which you are being instructed), but three years down the road you're on a trip of Europe and a new friend (who happens to have the same digital camera you have, but read the instructions, or previously ran into someone who did) shows you a feature on your camera you could have been using the whole time!! Think about the loss of potential! It's completely immaterial that you likely would've only used that particular feature once or twice during the lifetime of the camera. The point is that you didn't know.

I want to know. Everything. I'll read the instruction manual, download the addendum from the website, read it, check out 14 forums discussing its use, which leads me to 2 other obscure read.me files I'll check out immediately. Then, I might put in the batteries and see if it works. What can I say? I'm all about the potential. I want to be prepared for every instance and scenario so that when the bright noontime sun is partially blocked by cumulonimbus cloud cover I can snap the perfect action shot of myself chasing after the pitch black tortoise hiding in the shade of dramatically red and green fufava tree branches. Just in case that ever happens, I want to know that there is no stress setting up the camera. I'm good to go. Press a couple buttons, turn a dial or two, set the timer and bingo-bango-bongo: the perfect picture. I know the route to get to the destination, no questions necessary. I'm there. I know.

See, some might suggest that I'm insecure. The knowlege of every nook and cranny of every item I've ever used is a futile effort to bolster my flagging confidence. But come on, we know the truth: this knowledge makes me better than you and you're not disciplined enough to dig deep and work at retaining this vast resevoir of requisite instruction. SO THERE.

I know it. You know it.

I feel good.

I'm going to get back to reading the help page I was searching for... I'm just dying to know how to use the Toshiba EKT-6510 to conference a local call, an internet call and two internal phones within the system together for a conversation!! I knew there had to be a way to do it but someone threw out the instruction book...

Weekends

Week-end is a weird word. I suppose it originated at a time when everything was closed on Saturdays and Sundays and the "week" was for working. That meant the Saturdays and Sundays signified the end of the "week"...no more working...

My how things have changed! Now, George's "weekend" starts at 8:00am on Wednesdays when he finishes his graveyard shift at the cement plant while Suzy's (his wife) kicks off more traditionally, Friday nights, with a closing beer with the co-workers. So much for weekends with the family!

And what about people who never get two days off in a row? Say, Saturdays and Mondays, or Tuesdays and Fridays. Do they have no weekend at all, or two? Are their "weeks" eternal and continuous, droning on through time and space, or do these days off signify "weeks" of a day or two broken by numerous "week"-ends? So hard to tell these days...

All I can say is that I love weekends. Even with a job I enjoy, I like weekends even better. I like sleeping in and doing my laundry while watching TV, being relaxed and not having to get anywhere by anytime. I enjoy taking my time and giving it to friends and family, laughing, playing, growing. YAY! Let's hear it for the weekend!

Never enough

Why is comparison so seductive?

How is it that judging myself based on those I see around me makes so much sense, like the orbit of the earth around the sun or the ungodly nature of buying indulgences? A suggestion so strong that it cannot be denied, no matter how deep the cry against it originates...

I compare relentlessly. I like comparing so much that I compare myself to myself, both past and future. Mr. Brent Thompson the present doesn't stand a chance vs. Mr. Brent Thompson the future. Man, is he spectacular or what!!! Fortunately for Mr. Brent Thompson the present, he has Mr. Brent Thompson the past to beat up on. Sure, Mr. Brent Thompson the past can take a couple rounds from Mr. Brent Thompson the present, but if the fight goes the distance, fuhgeddaboutit. And so it goes.

And this is only myself! Imagine the 4 second knockouts I can deliver against those out there in the real world who are simply less talented than me, less intelligent, less pretty, less rich, less funny, less skilled, less educated, less well-spoken, less humble (?!)...

But wow, can I take a beating too. It's always a mystery how in one battle I can stand toe to toe with someone and feel like the fight never has to end, the punishment of their blows like that of a gnat, scant and hollow; yet in the next, my jaw turns to glass and I crumple beneath the breeze of their first swing. In the sport of comparison, looking up at the lights with your back on the mat is as death: counted out and no hope of redemption.

That brings me back to seduction...
There are things in life that you know that you know that you know you should never do, yet do them you do. Engaging myself in the sport of comparison is one of those things for me. I get out, and jump back in again. It's compulsive. It's obsessive. It's easy..... and it hurts. Everytime.

Maybe it's your soul. Perhaps I blew you away with my knowledge of the Scriptures or my crossover dribble and left you disfigured. Maybe it's my soul. Devestated because I just could not compete with his musicianship or her ability to accomplish so much in one day. Maybe it's both. Maybe it's all of us. Maybe.

Defeat or victory is immaterial with comparison. The ultimate result is always the same: the maiming of a soul.
In victory, I think of myself more highly than I ought, putting aside all sober judgement. In defeat, I rob myself of hope and neglect the presence of an unfinished work to be brought to completion on that day to come...

What a diverse tool for deception! The same instrument can find me basking in the joy of being better than while concurrently slinking away to avoid the slavery of my substandard abilities! Remarkable.

I wish I didn't do it.
I hope I can stop.
I know it's bad for me.
If only I could be more disciplined, like Billy is. I know Billy doesn't struggle with it like I do.
Yeah, that would fix everything.

Time is $$

It's true. It's really true. Cliche and true.

Don't get me wrong, I like $$. $$'s good. $$ helps me buy stuff. Like food. Which is also good. $$ makes Brent's little life a little better. I like to eat. And have a place to sleep. So I do like $$.

But, time...wow. This is cool stuff! This is the kinda shiznit that makes $$ look poor. Imagine that, making $$ itself look like nothing at all! I mean $$ is what gets me food! So I can eat! I need $$. But I looooooooooooove time....

"I got my mind on my $$ and my $$ on my mind"

I got my mind on my time and my time on my mind... not the same flow to it...sad.

But true.

First time for everything

I wonder how important the first time really is...

• How often is the first time the best? (Experience does count for something!)

• How often is the first time the hardest? (Doesn't overcoming the difficulty of initiating a "first time" overemphasize the elation/joy experienced in the actual event and underemphasize the truly horrible effort it took to get this thing started!?!?)

• How often is the first time the worst? (Typically unexperienced, fumbling through a first time can be revolting...)

• How can anyone put so much pressure on one moment and ever expect it to be positively memorable (as opposed to negatively memorable!?)?

I guess the real power of the "first time" is the sentimentality of the moment: the fact that you'll always remember where you were and who you were with that first time...

So, here I am, a blogvirgin no more. The first time wasn't so bad...