Marked for Life, Made to Live

Picture this: there were two deer, each with 10 point racks, standing on their hind legs in a forest clearing. One of the deer has what appears to be a bullseye on its chest. And, the other deer looks at the first and says, "Bummer of a birthmark, Hal!"

A picture, a few words - 5 to be exact - and the stage is set! I'm sure Hal lived to be a very paranoid deer; always conscious that he was helping any would-be hunter get a better shot! Gary Larson, creator of "The Far Side" comic strip, had a great way of giving human qualities and personalities to wild life. His comics were often a single frame coupled with a one-lined zinger. But, that's all he had to say..."Bummer of a birthmark, Hal"...and in no time we can envision Hal living a very shortened life.

Funny, right? But, the odd thing about this cartoon is that I can identify with Hal. No, I don't have antlers or go by the name 'Buck', nor do I expect to live an abbreviated life because of a ill-placed bullseye, but I know first hand what it means to be the owner of a birthmark that's very prominent. It's not on my face as some people have. I was born with a dark, strawberry coloured birthmark that extends from the heel of my left foot, up the calf and to the back of my knee.

I don't remember when I became self-conscious of the mark, but I do remember one of the first times that I made an effort to hide it. I was 7 years old and I decided to wear long pants to my grade school's annual track and field day and I was determined not to be subjected to the questions from curious kids and less-than-tactful adults. When asked why I wasn't wearing shorts I recall making up the excuse that I forgot it was field day...(something a little unbelievable given the excitement and anticipation kids have for field days before they realize running and jumping are not at the top of their skill ladders.) While fumbling for excuses I remember one of my classmates, Marlene G, showing me a moment of undeserved grace and offering some elastic bands to help keep my pant legs rolled up.

Playing soccer wasn't a big deal because you could wear long socks and it would cover up my birthmark. But when I was 17 or so, going to Gulliver's Beach and wearing black jeans on a hot, summer day was a regrettable decision! I think that was the final straw. It was after baking at that beach and getting an even darker farmer's tan that I decided, if you don't like what's on my leg,...DON'T LOOK AND DON'T ASK! Now, I'm gentler and a little more accepting of peoples' curiosity, which is all it really is, isn't it?

A physical mark, a permanent spot on my skin, had partially defined me at such a young age. Starting from a very young age, we let all sorts of outside influences define who we are as individuals. We allow things like a birthmark, the presence or the absence of hair, the size of our house, our height, the make of our car(s), the types of vacations we take, how much money we earn, our job, the size of bank account, our ethnicity, athletic ability, the brand of clothing we wear, sexual identity, our friendships, how many views we get on Instagram, likes on Facebook, +'s on Google, favourites on Twitter (I'll pause here and let you fill in some more because the list is endless ______) to shape our identities. I've heard it said before that we allow our net worth to define our self worth. And, it's sad. Sad.

Look around. We're bombarded with ads that tell us we'll be happier with a drink in our hands, a diamond on her finger, a boat in the driveway, an in-home theatre, better smelling armpits, fresher breath, tighter abs and skinny jeans. Really? Maybe, for a few hours, or days, tops.

I'm not immune to it - I still fight the temptation to compare myself to others. But, here's what I try remember (and I'm not always successful): I was fearfully and wonderfully made by God (Psalm 139:14) and I'm storing my treasures in Heaven! (Matthew 6:20). That's all I need. I just can't use it as collateral on a bank loan!

Come to think of it, when asked by my epidermal inquisitors I should have replied, "Oh...that red spot...those are God's fingerprints he left behind when he made me."

Ah, story of my life...always a day late and a dollar short!

And, after all these years, a word to my 2nd grade classmate Marlene G. - "Thanks for your kindness! I'll never forget."

Great day to be alive

Usually, when I get in my truck at 2 AM on a cold, snowy night I waste little time putting the transmission into drive. Not this past Monday. I turned the key and was welcomed with... "It's a Great Day to be Alive" sung by Travis Tritt." I just sat there shivering and listened. (Since I'm not gifted with awesome lyric recall like the rest of my family I had to look up the lyrics.) Here're a few lines:

"Sometimes it's lonely, sometimes it's only me

And the shadows that fill this room

Sometimes I'm fallin', deserately callin'

Howlin' at the moon, ah-ooh

Well I might go get me a new tatoo

Or take my old Harley for a three day cruise

Might even grow me a Fu Man Chu

And it's a great day to be alive

I know the sun's still shining'

When I close my eyes

There's some hard time in the neighbourhood

But why can't everyday be just this good"

(from www.azlyrics.com writer: Darrell Scott)

You get the idea, I hope. Here's a man singing about simple blessings in life while at the same time acknowledging there's trouble all round - including in his own life - and he's thankful for each day. It resonated with me...and it brought me to smile. Yeah...it's a good day to be alive - even though there's some hard time in the neighbourhood.

Just earlier that evening I heard that the family of a man I worked with for 17 years pulled him from life support. I hadn't seen 'Pro' (as we called him) for the last 8 years and I was thinking that the last time I said 'Good bye' to him was really the last time I'd ever say good bye to Pro. You never know when the last time is going to be the last time. You say good bye to your kids when they leave for school. You say good bye to your best friend after a night on the town. You say good bye to your parents after a long overdue visit. You say good bye to your spouse on your way to work. You say good bye to a coworker as you enter life in a new employ. Or, you never get to say good bye.

The small things in life that provoke mild irritation - or anxiety - seem to be appreciated or even welcomed when a tragedy occurs. Suddenly, I'm thankful (not a lot mind you!) for having to get up at 2 AM to plow snow. I'm thankful for the annoying birds that woke me up too early on a Saturday morning. I'm thankful for my teenage daughter who's practicing the flute while I'm trying to write this blog. (She's actually quite gifted...phew!) I'm thankful for having to turn up the TV's volume because the dishwasher and washing maching are fighting over who can be the loudest during the rinse cycle!

And, I think...it's a great day to be alive.

Another great day: my mom watching her Dad (Pa) milk a cow. (See the wooden shoes!) 

The big things become bigger. Like watching my teenage son get into a van with his buddies - driven by one of his buddies. Yup - no parents at all. Just 5 - 16 year old boys, a van, some skates, a puck and in search of ice. And, I was thankful to watch it from my window. Or, witnessing my daughter and her friend confidently walk to the front of our church this morning and ask for donations for their upcoming mission trip to Haiti. And, if I could say this quietly so they don't hear me, I'm thankful that my oldest children will soon have their G2 driver's licenses. Not because I'll spend less time driving, but because, by God's grace, they've reached this milestone of life.

And, I think...it's a great day to be alive.

I think it's generally a good thing that we don't know when the last time we say good bye..will be the last time. I'm thankful that future events are kept hidden and are revealed in time. I'm not sure many people could bear or would really want to know what the future holds.

But, whatever the future holds, and whichever 'Good bye' will be my last good bye, may this be my song:

Sunset in Indian Shores, Florida

"The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning
It's time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass, and whatever lies beore me
Let me singing when the evening comes
Bless the Lord, O my soul
O my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul
I'll worship Your holy name" (lyrics Matt Redman)

And, I think...it's a great day to be alive.

Where Christmas memories are held

Twice daily - usually twice - I pass the house I grew up in. More often than not I take a quick glance in some sort of nostalgic way. Sometimes I'll remember mowing the 3/4's of acre by hand or the rare water fights Mom allowed us to have. (We were only allowed half a pail of water since our well was only 18 feet deep and running out of water was a constant summer threat.) I'll remember the annual pumping of our house's septic system that we greeted with disdain. Or, the chicken coop that required daily visits to collect the eggs, which my brother, Duane, and I had to sell on Saturday mornings. We arranged our egg delivery schedule so we could end up at our neighbour's house where we were always invited in to watch cartoons.

And lately, I've been thinking about Christmas times spent when I was young. Mom and Dad didn't have a lot to spend but they made sure there were gifts under the tree for all six kids. I remember my Dad pretending he was Santa Claus one Christmas and saying 'Ho-Ho-Ho' as he carried a brand new Dutch Sjoelbak game (Shuffle Board) up the stairs from our basement. I remember decorating the Christmas tree and throwing the silver icicles and hoping they land in an orderly fashion. (Do they still make those?) I remember having to wash the dinnertime dishes by hand before we could open the presents on Christmas Eve. There were times when Mom would read a Christmas story from The Calvinist Contact before we went to bed. I remember the wooden hockey sticks and pucks that were waiting in our bedroom when Duane and I woke up.

And, then there was the Christmas that we wrapped everything in sight! Since my brother and sister and I didn't have any money to buy gifts we looked for items that were more or less forgotten in our house and regifted them! We would've wrapped our cat, George, if he would have let us! We wrapped old books, or silverware (that's what we called cutlery back then), or mitts and hats that hadn't seen the light of day in years. Or old business cards. My brother found a stack of old business cards that my Dad hadn't used and wrapped them and gave them to him for Christmas. I can still hear the laughter and delight in Dad's voice. I think that gift was the most precious to him that year.

Christmas' seemed simpler back then - and it probably was. Christmas wasn't as commercialized as it is now - the stores were closed on Sundays...even the Sunday before Christmas!

We can't turn the clocks back. And, I don't even know if we'd want to if we could. We have new memories to create and frame. Our kids are now teenagers and we we're just reminiscing of past Christmas' not long ago. I'm thankful for my family. I'm thankful for old memories and new memories. I'm thankful for Christmas' spent on Robson Road 'yesterday' and Centre Road 'today'.

Wishing you wonderful memories this Christmas as we celebrate the birth of our risen Lord and Saviour, Jesus!