Dear Elsie

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Dear Elsie,

You are now three and a half years old so I think it’s a good time to have a chat—grandfather to granddaughter.

Let me recount some of your fabulous qualities: I love your ability to imagine, to create a world that is dynamic, fun, and caring. For example, yesterday at Auntie Natalie’s condo you served me cake that was made up of strawberries from Africa, blueberries from South America and pepperonis from Montreal. I thought that was an excellent and worldly combination! Wow, you know a lot!

Also, I appreciate how you always take care of your dollies that live at our house. As soon as you arrive you go over and see how they are. Are they comfortable? Covered with a blanket? Lonely? You always make sure their needs are met and that they are happy—a fine characteristic. Hold on to that one!

You have a sharp, inquiring mind! You know lots of words and enjoy using them all. You also love to observe life and make connections about how people and things work together. These are qualities that your actor mom and scientist dad demonstrate as well. Maybe you learned this connecting ability from them?

Which leads me to ask, “What will Elsie learn from me?” Maybe you will develop a love for the sea and go scuba diving with me one day? Does that sound like fun? We could travel to a Caribbean Island (how about Little Caymen?) and dive the crystal clear waters of a coral reef in pristine condition. That would definitely be a cool thing to do together! Or maybe you will imbibe my desire to see the world and travel to places like Bolivia and see the famous dinosaur tracks of Toro Toro? I know you love dinosaurs so you would be bound to enjoy that trip!

But mostly Elsie, I hope you learn from me that we share a Creator who loves us deeply. So much so that He wants us to live with Him forever! And all the fun stuff we want to do now and can’t for some reason, we will do with him one day. This truth seems to be a bit of a secret these days. People are shy about speaking openly about our Creator or don’t even believe He exists! But don’t you believe them! Abba exists all right and you and I and this big ‘ol world are proof of His existence! Some people will try to make you think that our Creator is just an idea—make believe! But we know better, okay? Deep in our hearts we can feel his heart beat with ours if we just sit still long enough to listen.

We will talk more about Abba and his son Jesus in other letters Elsie, but for now hang on to your Creator who loves you and will never let you go. Just as you already care for your dollies and look out for them, so He travels with you and whispers in your ear.

Your Grandpa would never tell you a fib, so you can believe what he tells you!

Love you, Grandpa.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

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Today my father turned 91! Ninety-one years on Madre Tierra. That’s a long time! He has seen many changes to the planet, to our human culture during these years. At this moment, he is feeling them all.

It has been a tough six months for Dad since Mom died. Everything feels off kilter. ‘Meaningless’ is his word. He recently moved to a senior’s residence and is feeling his days of empty time. Lots of silence and solitude and loneliness. His Paradise feels very far away.

Nor does he want to celebrate his birthday! Birthdays were not celebrated back home in Ireland (as he was reminding me at Sunday lunch)—not for his mother, not for his father and not for him today. For him a birthday is just another day of emptiness, a day for dreaming of bygone days, another day for contemplating a cloudy future.

The pain of grief and’attachment.’ Sigh.

A counselor friend tells me there is no side-tracking the grief process. Only time will temper the hurt. But my Buddhist friends say that ‘attachment’ is an unnecessary addition. Attachment (or co-dependence perhaps) can cling so closely that the self is almost lost—a scary place for anyone. This is where my dad is at on his 91st birthday.

He and I talked about this notion recently. He even accepted it in theory, but at 91 it is hard to make a course correction. It didn’t get much farther than ‘it isn’t good to get too close to anyone!’ Not what I hoped he would glean from the conversation. Another sigh.

So I yell loudly to the world, ‘Happy birthday, Father, mi padre!’ You may not be able to hear it today but it is good for the planet to enjoy your name day. The tide will eventually come in and the dry places will be watered. You will once again catch the current where joy resides.

Your joy will come again, Dad.

A Visit From Roy

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Every six or eight weeks I receive a visit to my church office from “Roy.” Whenever he comes there is a quiet understanding between him and me: he needs cash and I am the cash giver. However, this time he just sat and asked how I had been keeping. He also wanted to show me his new boots that he had received from the kindness of the Scott Mission—Roy said, “Yeah, the guy took me to a discount shoe store and told me to grab whatever I needed so I chose these black, warm working boots—they are so great!”

Eventually, after a rambling conversation I jumped to the point and asked, “What’s up Roy? How can I help?” At that point he opened his mouth widely and showed me his teeth. Most of them were missing and those that were left were rotting. Roy said, “I need caps—eating is so difficult because I can’t chew my food!” I looked at his decaying, black covered teeth and pulled a twenty dollar bill out of my wallet. For a new set of caps.

After a bit we hugged and I told him to keep in touch. I told him to look up a friend of mine in London, Ontario who would help him out. He said, “Thanks, I will.” Then he slipped out the side door of the church for another season in the cold, and often unfriendly streets of Toronto.

When Roy left I mused on what it would be like to be him. The difficulties of rotting, painful teeth and the challenges of eating, having to constantly navigate my way of life on the street! I don’t think I would do very well. I am too far removed from my hermit great grandfather who lived in Cave Hill just outside of Belfast.

I told myself: be thankful for your teeth, Alan, and your Bolivian dentist Dr. Zarzar! Don’t be an ingrate, Alan. Be truly mindful of life’s/God’s blessings each day. Be compassionate, Alan. Spread it around. Always give the other person the benefit of the doubt. Life is tough and people don’t need judgment from me—only compassion and love.

These are the things I told myself.

Maybe, that is what we all really need—gratitude, compassion and love. At least it is a good start, a good intention, as we bounce our way through a myriad of hurting, bemused individuals in 2012. I’m trying harder. For Roy.

In The Name Of Jesus

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A new year—new beginnings—a time to re-enter the ‘blog’ world!

Here are some thoughts from Karl Rahner on this mysterious threshold of crossing into a new year:

“One can fall into despair or melancholy when one realizes on New Year’s Eve that yet another part of one’s earthly life is irrevocably past. But time passes on toward God and eternity, not toward the past and destruction. And so—in God’s name!…But we Christians know the definitive name of God: Jesus. For that is the name which that child received who is God and the eternal youth of the world, who is a man and as such the eternal countenance of God. Let us sign the cross of this Jesus on brow, mind, and heart. Let us say with relief: our help is in the name of the Lord! And then stoutheartedly let us cross the threshold of the new year. If his name shines above it, even its darkest hour will be an hour of the year of the Lord and of his salvation.”

Amazing stuff! Even the darkest hour can be received and overcome because ‘this is the year of the Lord.’ May we move forward in confidence and enthusiasm—’full of God’—because this is his year and he is near.

Coronation Day

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When I heard my mother had died I was at a small email/call centre beside the ‘plaza mayor’ in the heart of Cochabamba, Bolivia. Who knew—my life with mother began in Belfast and ended in the heart of South America in the Andean plateau. I was speaking with my wife, Elizabeth and heard the words, ‘She’s gone’—I mumbled something about it being the best—an end to her downward spiral of declining health —but the sentiments were really a result of shock.

What I do remember is coming outside and hearing the bells of the cathedral ringing—a mid 17th century edifice built by the Spanish. I sat in the park watching the hustle of the family celebrations. There were young children playing, pigeons flying, sunshine streaming, parents admiring and bells gonging. I was sitting in unbelief and then appreciating the ancient bells as a coronation canticle for my mother’s departure.

What happens when we die? Does the computer simply turn off—everything receding to black? Is it soul sleep— waiting for Christ’s celebrative and culminating return? I confess the data is incomplete! But I hold onto Christ’s endearing words to the penitent thief, ‘Today,you will be with me in paradise.’ or the Apostle Paul’s musing that ‘to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord’. The only way we will know for sure is when we make our own departure—but of all the options I like the latter the most.

Paradise sounds ‘inviting, restful, joyful’—a fitting place for my saintly mother. I believe Jesus chose his words carefully so I find reassurance in his comforting words to the seeking, hurting, hopeful, bandit. Paradise—a temporary reprieve from the world’s pain while we wait for the kingdom’s total unveiling.

Be well mother—deeply well—it won’t be long until we are reunited. Belfast-Toronto-Cochabamba-Paradise! Each time I hear a cathedral gong I will think of you mom and offer a prayer of gratitude for your 87 years of blessing. You are sorely missed—another motherless child treading mother earth but paradise awaits.

The Power of Entrainment

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Stephen Nachmanovitch describes an intriguing phenomenon in his book Free Play called ‘entrainment.’ He writes about it this way:

“We can play together without even playing together. For writers, art colonies or libraries are often good places to work, because even though the people around us are total strangers and are all doing their own private work, the silent rhythm of working together strengthens everyone’s work energy. We feel a self-reinforcing entrainment of our concentration and commitment to be with our work. If one is learning meditation, to sit cross-legged for half an hour alone, silent and still, can be a difficult test of stamina. But if a group is sitting together, the physical-spiritual challenge becomes much easier to bear, and retreats of a week or more become feasible.”

I recently spent a full day meditating with about 50 other meditators and certainly found Nachmanovitch’s description accurate. One enters the room with conviction and picks up the vibe from everyone else that this experience is important and to be taken seriously. I have participated in several 10 day meditation-silent retreats over the past few years and each time the power of the group is significant. Intriguing—you don’t speak with anyone—you don’t get to know anyone—but the group plays an essential part in the meditative experience.

Perhaps, entrainment plays an important part in our faith journey and we don’t even know it. We come together in worship, prayer, and community (koinonia) and the power of the group supports our individual role and walk. The dynamic that we each bring to the group begins to form a harmony or texture that reinforces each person at their own place in the spectrum. Jesus refers to it this way: “Where two or three meet in my name I am there in your midst.” Simply put—he is with us in a group in a way that he is not privately.

If we understood the power of entrainment more or believed in it more we might not be so dismissive of the role of ‘community’ in our faith journey? Also, we might be a bit more suspicious of our strong tendency toward individualism and doing things in the famous words of Frank Sinatra ‘my way!’

Tobermory Beckons

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As a diver Tobermory is my home port. It lies on the northern tip of the Bruce peninsula where Lake Huron and Georgian Bay meet. The rocky shores and myriad of islands have claimed a host of shipwrecks over the past 4 centuries which are now the destinations for adventure loving divers.

I made the 4 hour hike up Highways 10 and 6 this past weekend to brave the cold 41 degree F waters. Such diving is most comfortable in a drysuit where only your head and hands get wet…as the water seeps slowly in under your hood and gloves and your body warms the waters. The drysuit was my choice for the weekend!

The waters are a turquoise blue and pass well for a Caribbean sea except for the extreme cold. I dove the lighthouse wall which is an excellent shore dive to reacclimatize to the gear and cold temperatures and saved the deep wreck dives—The Arabia and Forest City—for later summer dives with relatively warmer waters. The cold is always a bit startling as the water can hit your forehead like a hammer. This time it was a little more reasonable, like receiving a sustained, painful injection! And the visibility was excellent—100 feet or more—in beautiful, cold waters with only some small fish as companions. My silent friends welcoming the landlubber into their environs!

I am always grateful for these spiritual retreats. I am a lover of solitude, silence, and the feel of water! The cold waters are especially good for clearing the head of excessive baggage and clutter. Diving is also an effective way to be reminded of the dangers of attachment as extra gear is truly a hindrance for flying in the weightless environment.

Keep it simple. Be in the moment. Know what you see and not see what you know. Underwater mantras that remain just as true on the shore!

High Park in the Spring

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One of the magnificent features of Toronto is High Park. It ranges from Bloor Street on the north all the way to Lake Ontario on its south end with a large pond named Grenedier Pond—fabled to be bottemless when I was kid growing up in Cabbagetown.

A feature of High Park are the cherry trees which form a line through the heart of the park cascading down the slope towards the pond. In blossom (during the early spring) they present themselves as a winter white scene reminiscent of the snows recently melted. During these past weeks, the Japanese community in Toronto has been flocking to the cherry trees (a gift of Japan from the 1950s) in memory of their kindred lost in the recent earthquakes and tsunami. The cherry blossoms are the first trees to blossom in Japan and are considered to be harbingers of hope and new life—both qualities longed for in times of crisis, confusion, and national disaster.

I saw the blossoms at their finest last week, as well as the crowds milling around savouring their beauty. Unfortunately no camera in hand! I returned today on an overcast Saturday and the blossoms had fallen; the shimmering white flowers turned to a pale pink–beautiful but not stunning and the crowds had waned. I had my point and shoot camera and decided to take a few shots in memory of the beauty past as well as the quiet, unassuming beauty present.

High Park, a symbol of hope to a thawing metropolis and blossoming cherry trees comforting families and friends of 25,000 dear souls swallowed up by a groaning earth and roaring waters which we calmly
name from a far—’a tsunami.’


Cherry trees—hope and new life—Easter—hope and new life—groaning world—waiting as Saint Paul says in hope for new life!

Skyping Bolivia

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This past week I joined with a group of colleagues on a Skype call to Cochabamba, Bolivia. The purpose of the call was to receive an update on the work of the Baptist churches in Bolivia (particularly those who have a relationship with some of our Canadian churches). My own church has entered into a three year relationship with the churches situated in the bowl of La Paz. The call was intended to give me more information on how the project is coming along and how we can continue to develop our relationship with the Bolivian churches.

As I listened to my Bolivian colleagues speak and share their vision for God’s kingdom, I was deeply impressed with their passion and commitment to see God’s reign blossom in the Bolivian context. The vision included a holistic ministry of education, micro-credit programs, establishment of churches in new areas, and health initiatives. One program of interest to me was their effort to control and diminish the Chagas disease. The Chagas disease is caused by a parasite carried by insects inhabiting the adobe of the rural Bolivian homes. The insects come out of the mud at night and bite the folks who are sleeping. The result for those infected is a devastating disease frequently ending with cardiac failure. The only way to control the disease (in simple terms) is to plaster over the adobe of the house from the inside which prevents the insects from leaving the mud and inflicting their damage on the people sleeping—especially the young children.

The only way to administer this program is house by house. Each house has to be treated individually—time consuming and arduous work. But my colleagues oversee the effort with patience, love and perseverance and the result is a slow control of a deadly, pestilence—one house at a time!

I left the call thankful that I know these folk and that I have the privilege of learning from them. Maybe all real service of love and lasting importance happens slowly one house at a time? Maybe the programs of quick results, big numbers, and flashy appeal aren’t the best way and don’t merit all of our excitement?

Maybe the turtle wins the race after all and not the lickety-split bunny! Maybe the Bolivians have it right and a house to house effort demonstrating the love and compassion of Jesus will build the Kingdom just fine and the banqueting table will be full to receive the eternally young princely king?

Diving Utila

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During the month of February I travelled with my friend Rob to the Honduran island of Utila—a sister island of Roatan and not too far from the Honduran coast. The purpose of our trip was to dive the relatively isolated island of Utila in the hope of finding pristine reefs!

We were met with rather stormy weather—our flight had to abort the landing in Roatan due to the lack of visibility and we were redirected to Belize City in the country of Belize. After a few hours (holed up in the plane) we returned to Roatan and were able to land. Unfortunately, there was no small plane to ferry us to Utila because of the inclement weather (sadly, a plane carrying 15 people had crashed during the storm on the mainland leaving no survivors) and we were stranded in the Roatan airport trying to devise a way to reach our destination. Ultimately, we found a brave soul who agreed to take us to Utila, keeping well below the storm clouds to maintain visibility.


The reefs did prove to be quite lush and worth the effort expended to reach the isle! The diving was a splendid mix of wall and canyon dives. We were met at various points by friendly stingrays, bright orange seahorses nibbling away at microscopic dishes, schools of squid (who by the way are very intelligent!) who allowed us to join their school and enjoy their changing color. And, of course, we saw a multitude of gorgeous sponges and corals covering the underwater walls.


It was a trip that included both the beauty of God’s creation and the dangers of exploring it. The storm above the sea was destructive while the waters beneath it were welcoming. This is often true simply taking a walk around a city block—one never knows what might suddenly happen. But the ocean is particularly awesome—embracing on one hand and terrifying on the other (just ask Jonah!). The world is both paradise and ‘infierno’—a gift to be received or a terror to endure.


For Rob and me it was gift, beauty and enlivening. For others that day it was crashing into the unknown in fear, terror and who knows what else. We tread a fine line between life and death, but there is much to praise God for even while we walk that line. But the unknown always takes risk and insists on remaining a journey of faith whether in Toronto or Utila.