Contact...

Try this. Stop contacting people with whom you have been in fairly constant contact with for the last litle while. See if they contact you. I tried this. The results have been nothing short of astounding in some cases. There is a handful of people some distance away, who have stopped contacting me entirely except for special occasions such as Christmas,birthday, etc.

When I was initiating contact with them fairly frequently, I always had a sense that they were in touch with me as well. That was never the case at any time. I just didn't realize it. I was so caught up in the relationship of conversation,people,and news that it never occurred to me that those few didn't want to initiate a relationship, they were just responding
to my attempts to build a relationship over time.

It is a realization not without regret. This lack of reciprocal contact has helped me to understand what performance based relationships are all about. If I am not deemed worthy of their "life code" for me then I will receive less contact.You falter in their eyes...you're out or at least diminished.

Presently,I am still hopeful, but,as they say, reality and time reveal the truth about any relationship...

The Hope of a Child...

The fact that Hope can exist whether I feel it or not is,perhaps, the most profound proof of God's active existence in my life.
It is always fascinating to me, in a dark sense, that when depression was at it's worst,I believed that everyone else who was happy was simply ignorant and didn't have the insight, wisdom, and discernment that told me that there was never any hope in the first place and that all those other people were living lives of platitudes and denial. That is the beginning of self-destruction...Yet in that very moment, Hope existed regardless of my condition.
In this society, and often families, we live in a world of performance
based love: highly conditional, many boundries, because of course it will make us better people (sic). "It's for our own good really". So we begin to build our lives believing that "What we do" is more important than "Who we are". The search for approval begins and is relentlessly pursued, whether it's for people who are dead or alive. What a terrible,evil, pressure we impose upon ourselves...

Brennan Manning,the relentless old Irish saint from Brooklyn, once said:
"God loves us for who we are right now, not for who we should be."

Brennan was at one time a philandering addict and appeared to be, "a waste of skin." He changed his life, found a strong faith, and headed off to India
to work in Calcutta with the poor, lived in the garbage dumps of Mexico
picking for food with people there, lived on the streets of America with 12 and 14 year old prostitutes, to help them and try to protect them.
After all of that amazing volunteer work in 20 years, he finally realised that God loved him just as much in his worst moments as an addict, as he did during the height of his personal crusade to help others.

If God sees me as a child, "loved as I am right now", as I would say about my own children, then how can I not be drawn to Hope and wonder at what He wants for me.


Regardless of my body chemistry, life obligations,and pressures that I have permitted to rule my life so often, this Hope that is found in the heart of a small child is not foolish, it is the way God meant us to live our lives. The wonder of it all is that it's taken me so long to see it...

God's Subtlety...

Have you ever been in a place where Love and comfort is screaming at you and you can't hear it?...A place where it's sunny outside , but you can't feel it or see it? ...but then it begins. It is not an overwhelming moment to be sure, but simply a subtle move, a twinge perhaps that says; "It's going to be alright." There are waves that still occur, but something is moving in your heart and mind and the Almighty once again is saying;

"I will believe in you especially in those moments when you don't believe in yourself."
THAT is how He loves us...

Turning Points...

Life is full of turning points: marriage, babies, being a parent, death of our parents. Many of us carry on as if life will go on forever. It doesn't. 228 souls perished this week aboard a French airliner. They had hopes, dreams, families and they faded into the ether. A friend of mine, Gary, used to run with the rest of my hobbled middle aged team in the Haney To Harrison Relay. He died of esophagal cancer last year at 58 years of age. I remember running (badly) a 5 km. in honour of Gary's memory last year.
The message is this: We only have so much time on this terrestrial ball.
Many talk alot about sucking all the marrow out of life all that you can.
Yes, in one sense...
In that time and span though, who is being hurt, embittered, damaged
by the way we have lived our lives while we were "sucking the marrow"?
The God I know, sees all, knows all, and allows us to make mistakes, have accidents, love and be loved. Bad things happen to Good people.

I need to accept that fact and possibility in my life.I cannot look after everyone,
but I can take the life I have been given in the midst of possibility and prayer and do His will...

Life In a Box...

If we live our lives in a box, it will be easier. Don't get involved.
Don't bother with people who are street people, Trailer Trash families,
Gay youth, Marginalised poor, Alternative kids, Tourettes, Mentally Ill adults, kids, and the entretched Celtic poor of this community. Walk by , live our lives. There must be somebody out there who does the "care thing" with them or at least shows compassion on some level.
Sorry, I'm not talking about aboriginal communities because the programs, counsellors, youth care workers ,and money that is available is finally there in high frequency due to the saturation of guilt we feel as Canadians because of residential schools that is lacking for the other groups I've mentioned.

Here's a newsflash for everyone. There is a Celtic demographic cohort in my town that is replete with poor, academically disadvantaged kids that has no special funding, no targeted help and a sense that "they" will always be with us. If I begin to use Surnames , you would know the families of whom I speak.

Yet , in all of this they survive, just as their ancesters did so long ago in their homelands, despite the predation of Vikings, the English, famine (half the population decimated) and finally the reception in this gracious land:

" Irish beggars are to be met everywhere, and they are as ignorant and vicious as they are poor. They are lazy, improvident and unthankful; they fill our poorhouses and our prisons, and are as brutish in their superstition as Hindoos."

George Brown, Toronto Globe, 1851


There is a school yard in Toronto that has the graves of many irish men, women, and children under the asphalt that the children play on regardless of the families buried underneath. Sacred graveyard? Nope. Just more diseased Irish bastards best forgotten, just like my community, generations of Celtic welfare poor...remember, everyone matters , this is Canada.

The Little Boy Who Disappeared...

Once upon a time there lived a boy who was close to all of his people.
He often observed and watched the goings on in the village amongst his people.
He was a happy little boy and always felt that his people would always be there for him no matter what happened in his life. He knew that his people would always think the best of him, because they would look after him when the other tribes showed up and threatened the people. As time went on the boy grew and lived apart from his people in the village. He grew and changed. He was not the same boy who lived back then,any more than the people whom he left behind.

When he returned, he found himself at odds with some of his people. This was unusual for him because some of his people were acting strangely. These few were suspicious, angry, and began to ask questions that they already thought they had answers for... He went on a journey to the distant village of Hpleug, because in that village there was a learned man who explained to this grown up boy why his people were so angry. The boy didn't tell them where he was going because he knew that they would understand. He knew that they could entrust him to keep the sacred laws, no matter who he talked to. The learned man who studied the ways of all people, warned him about the "few". The boy listened and told the learned seer that he was wrong in his predictions and that even the one who had been left on the island of desolation with the little ones so many years ago would understand best of all...The learned man listened intently and looked sad for a moment and he nodded to the boy as he smiled weakly. "My boy, the very one who has seen the island of Desolation will not understand, but that one will be bringing the heaviest judgement upon you!"
The little boy was sad and protested again, saying, "I will explain, those few will understand!" The learned man shook his head and said, "No, my son, they will condemn you for this very day that you sit infront of me."

When he returned the villagers greeted him with news of their lives and enquired after his life. The "few" held their tongues with him because they had been talking amongst themselves. They implored the others that this boy had broken the sacred laws. They announced to some that "He has a plan, this crafty boy!" "He seeks to break the sacred laws!" "He is like so many others!" Finally, the one who had seen the island of desolation so many years ago, spoke up. " He is no better than the one who sent me to the island of Desolation!" " Do not believe anything he tells you, he has been thrown over to madness!" "I will make those closest to you understand who you really are!"

He has no sadness about him, he has a plan! What say you boy?

The boy looked up, first at those closest to him, then at the "few", then finally at the victim of desolation who was staring intently at him. He said,
" I only have a plan to survive. You see me as one who is perhaps sick of mind and heart and so my words have become pointless for you as they leave my mouth."
Truely, the only thing that has made me sick of mind and heart is that you, the very victim of a desolation that I am coming to know, does not know me at all...perhaps you never did."
With that, the boy from the village he loved, turned around, and with a heavy heart, disappeared...

Alone...

“The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.”

Mother Theresa



Being lonely has little to do with how many are in the same room or the number of friends we have.
We are living in a sea of lonely people. Due to social convention, and the need for some kind of conversational conformity that we all live by, these people are hard to spot.
They are quiet, they are outgoing, they are married, and they are not married, they are men and they are women.

You will not see it in the span of a day unless, you spend that day looking for it.
If you take that time and energy, you will see it in others.

It is someone who is part of a group listening to a joke or a story and if you watch them, you will see it. It is a quick looking away or a glance downward.
It might come across in a smile that is tinged with melancholy. It could be a call you receive from a friend that seems to be simply filling a gap of time, when in fact, it is really a search to open up or a search for something more.
It is a question in your mind about something that someone said that grips you later in the day and you wonder what they were really trying to say.

Those are lonely people. Some talk too little, some talk too much.
In time, if you wish, you will spot them. If you are a lonely person, it's much easier...