Back off Ladies, He’s all mine.

***

 

On Tuesday, this handsome man turned 26.  I wanted to write a real nice, sappy sentimental post about how great Ben is, and how happy I am that he was born. 

But I just couldn’t.  It’s not that those things aren’t true- in fact, they are VERY true, but as I tried each night this week to sit down and think of how to articulate my thoughts properly so that I could best celebrate and honour Ben on his birthday, I found it hard.  I think it’s because it’s the every day things that make me most thankful for Ben.  Stuff that on it’s own, seems trivial, and hardly worth mentioning, but when you actually stop and think about it, it’s all of those little things that make for great days, fun days and memorable days. 

For example, every day I wake up to Ben planting a kiss on my forehead as he leaves for work before I’m even out of bed. It’s the best possible way to wake up, especially on the mornings when he shaves, because then his face is extra soft against mine. 

And sometimes when he goes grocery shopping, he buys me a little treat, just cause. 

He lets me read in bed, even if he’s trying to fall asleep and it’s hard to do that with the light on.

He lets me warm up my ice cold feet in the little pocket behind his knees.

He cooks: often and well.

He’ll carry stuff for me, even though I’m capable of doing it on my own, just to make me feel special.

He’s quite patient with my sometimes procrastinatory ways

.

He looks uber cute when he falls asleep while in the middle of something.

He has the ability to make people laugh….even if his jokes ARE lame sometimes

He can do a wicked siren noise that can turn heads for miles around.

That makes ME laugh.

Every time someone asks him how tall he is, he answers them like they are the first person to ever ask that question.  He never gets annoyed by this and makes people feel valued for asking.

He’s tall, dark and handsome

He is never afraid to ask salespeople questions, even if it means I get so nervous, I have to walk away while he asks for things like an extra discount. 

Usually, he gets what he’s asking for.

He makes to do lists, and then accomplishes everything on them quickly.  He doesn’t mention anything when I take a lot longer to accomplish my part of the list. 

He calls me his best friend all the time.

He thinks up nick names for himself and then tries his darndest to make them catch on.  “The Benj”, being his latest conquest.

So, in honour of being 26:

Dear The Benj,

I love you and I sure am glad you were born. Thanks for giving me so many reasons to be thankful for you. 

Love, K.

*** This is what Ben had to wear right after his laser eye surgery.  I know.  He’s a keeper right?

Oasis

Ben and I are taking off for the weekend!  We leave today after work, and we’re pumped.

Each year, our church denomination hosts a Pastor’s and Wives getaway (called Oasis) for all the churches across eastern Canada, at a pretty minimal cost to each person.  They pay a LARGE chunk of the cost for a great weekend at a lakefront inn up north.  There is little to no obligation to attend any of the organized sessions/get-togethers – which in my books means that Ben and I will most definitely…….be sleeping in. (What did you THINK I was going to say?!?!)

We are however, leading one of the sessions on youth evangelism.  I guess we’ll probably have to make sure we’re at that one. 

 

When I got my confirmation email from our denomination after I registered, they expressed how excited they were that me and my wife were coming. 

I really think they should change their generic form emails that they send out.

Perhaps I’ll try selling the contents in my dustpan for a ridiculous price too

This weekend was great.  Busy, but great. 

We went to Whitby for Friday to Saturday to spend some time with my parents and Dustin.   Friday night we went and saw the new Bond flick Quantum of Solace.  Not only was it opening night, but we went to the 10:30 show. We didn’t even get home until…wait for it… 1 am. I know.  We’re hardcore.  Someone better lock us up now before we reak havoc on the nightlife of Whitby.  I know what you’re thinking: “Man Karmyn, are you ever hip and with it”.  

Saturday night we went out with some great friends for dinner in Toronto, and then to the Art Gallery of Ontario to take advantage of the fact that it was F.R.E.E.  Apparently, the entire population of Toronto also thought this would be a good idea, so we didn’t get to see too much of the massive gallery, since it was slightly tough to move around.

We saw some incredible pieces of art.  Art that spanned over centuries, styles, mediums and muses.

We also saw a piece of art that consisted of a bunch of rocks piled on the floor, in the middle of one of the rooms, seemingly glued together.   (Now it’s at this point, that I must confess that from time to time, as I look at certain pieces of art, I do tend to think “I could do that”.  Really, I could.  I could take a big piece of white paper, and paint 1 line down the middle as well.  The price difference apparently is in who did the painting of said line.) So, as we approached this big pile of rocks in the middle of the floor, I confess (probably to the chagrin of my mucho-talented artist that is my sister in law),  that this thought crossed my mind.  I was pretty sure it wouldn’t take me too long to gather some rocks and some Elmer glue and go nuts.  In fact, I’m pretty sure in the first grade I did a project much like this one.

The thing is though, there was a kicker. I know – I love a good kicker just as much as the next person – and oh my friends, is there ever a kicker.

The kicker? There were CHEESIES scattered amongst the rocks.  I honestly didn’t quite know what to think.  Part of me just assumed someone had an unfortunate spill right around this piece of art – but that theory was quelched when I then saw someone try and clean up a cheesie and get yelled at by the security guard. They were supposed to be there.  Every last one of those cheesie puffs, strategically placed amongst the glued together rocks was supposed to be there.  Why? I have no idea.  The meaning of the piece? I have no idea. The inspiration behind the piece? I have no idea.  What would happen if I chose to glue a bunch of things I spilled on my kitchen floor and sneak it into the Art Gallery? Probably being blacklisted from all Art galleries in Canada.

Soundtrack of my life Vol 2: All I Can Say

(See here for an explanation of what these Soundtrack posts are all about)

I have a lot of thoughts in my head these days.  Thoughts of life, death, and pretty much everything in between. On Friday, in the span of just a few hours, I had to go from mourning the death and celebrating the life of a friend, to getting on a bus with 37 others on my first youth retreat as a youth director.  It was a bit of a shifting of gears, as Ben and I raced across the city in traffic after the funeral to meet the bus, students and their parents as we geared up for a sweet weekend away.   It was hard.  Hard to go from wanting to sit and cry with old friends to needing to be “on” for our students.  Not in a fake way, but in a way that showed them how truly excited I was to spend this weekend with them. 

I can’t wait to share how great our weekend was.  I am so thankful for God’s strength, wisdom and blessing on what happened.  The retreat is a post in it’s own.  But I will say there was SO much laughter, so much worship, and so many relationships strengthened.

Sitting here though, I’ve been realizing I have more thinking to do about the funeral.  If you were there, you’ll know how beautiful it was.  How it was an incredible testimony to God’s love for each person, and how the entire service had Andrew’s fingerprints all over it.  If you weren’t there, you need to know that I have never been a part of honouring someone so fully before.  We laughed, as Andrew would have expected of us, we cried, and we celebrated the trials and triumphs of Andrew’s journey, all the while, being pointed to Jesus – just like Andrew would have expected of us.

There was a part of the service that struck me.  Well, actually, there were many, many parts.  But at one point, Marilyn (Andrew’s wife) led us in a song of worship, and then afterwards, she shared about another song that she and Andrew had on a CD someone had given them, and had listened to many times during this long journey with cancer.  She shared how it had strengthened them, encouraged them, and given them permission to not always get it.  To not always know why God placed them in this situation. Andrew had wanted Marilyn to record a version of this song, but he died quicker than expected.  So in front of 700 people, at the funeral of her husband, she played and recorded it.  It was a beautiful moment of strength, sorrow and celebration all rolled into one.  The song? All I Can Say by David Crowder. 

I realized as she started singing, that the song was from a CD I’d given Andrew. I was instantly transported back to the moment in the Christian bookstore 10 years ago, trying to pick out a CD for Andrew. It was for his birthday, and he’d just had his second surgery on his brain, and I knew he’d be recovering in the hospital. I picked up a CD of a band I’d never heard of before, popped it in the CD player the store provided, and the first song on the CD was All I Can Say.  I didn’t really get it -what exactly the lyrics were saying – but I loved the song anyway and bought it.  I remember hanging out with Andrew a few months later at their house, and he popped it in, remarking how much he liked that song.  I had to agree (I’d bought the same CD for myself), and we sat there and listened to it together.

 I can remember the first day I actually “got it”.  It was a few years later, and I was going through a bit of a darker time in my spiritual walk, and I listened to that song again, sitting on my bed, in my room.   And it just clicked – I got it.  The song became so much more to me in that moment, because it was as if God knew I just needed to be a little bit older, and a little bit more broken to hear what He had to say to me through those words.  I frequently listen to this song and can still remember that moment of clarity.

On Friday, in that moment as Marilyn sang and demonstrated the beauty and strength that so many people admire in her, I knew that my memories of this song would forever be replaced by this moment. Of just sitting there, reflecting on my times with Andrew, and all that this song held for me up until this point.  And how all along Andrew had been in those memories for me, because I’d got the CD for him to begin with.  I think that God allowed me to “get it” even a little bit more on Friday.  He gave me a little bit more of a glimpse into the tension that exists between suffering and peace, joy and sorrow, celebration and mourning.  In the midst of deep sorrow, Jesus continues to cry with us, sit with us, and wash our feet. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No Greater Thing

When I was 14, I was on the worship team for our youth group.  It wasn’t much at the time, just a few of us, and our youth pastor, Andrew, getting together going through some songs. 

I can clearly remember one practice at the church.  There were just three of us there, myself, another guy (Chris), and Andrew.  We were going through a few songs, and there was this new one (at the time) that Andrew just loved.  It was one of his favourites and he wanted us to try it out.  We didn’t have any music for it, but he wanted to sing it so badly, so the three of us, chord by chord, tried to figure out what the music could be.

I remember vey distinctly the sense of accomplishment (and the huge grin on Andrew’s face) as we figured out the right chords.  It was the first time I felt like I might actually be an ok piano player and competent enough to do worship.  There was a instant bond of comraderie as the three of us plunked out the notes, getting them more and more right with every attempt.  We started slowly, having to repeat the same word/phrase over and over, but eventually we got the verse and then the chorus down.  Although it was just an ordinary afternoon practice, (one of many) with three people who actually weren’t that great to begin with on their instruments, it was a moment that actually was then, and still is frozen in my memory.  I didn’t always know why.  But I think today I do. 

The song was “Knowing You (All I once held Dear)” by Graham Kendrick.   I always think of Andrew when I hear this song, because of that day. Because of the excitement he had when we got it right. Because of his love for the song and what it stood for.  Because of the way he lived his life, as if this song was his life anthem.  Although on this earth, we can only know in part, today, Andrew knows in full.   

                                                        

                                                                  Andrew Temple

                                                  February 13, 1971-November 3, 2008