happy hour

Now if you ask any of my close friends, I don't waste my money on stupidness. What I mean by that is that when it comes to money and overspending, it's not that I am cheap, but when it comes to things I don't need, or things that I could find cheaper somewhere else, my wallet is shut tight. I think this is due to a mix of my upbringing, convictions in my faith, and just the fact that I don't think I need to drive a Lexus when most of the people I know struggle to have sufficient bus fare in their pockets.

So, Starbucks is the last place you will find me.

That is, except on Mondays. Monday is my day to get work done, rest, reflect, and just get some end and odd jobs done before the week really gets going. I have been searching for a nice coffeeshop of some sorts near my house for the last couple times but my efforts have been with little success. Of course there is Tim Hortons, but Tim Hortons has neither wi-fi nor electric outlets. Alas, until I find a nice place that is close to my house, has available resources for my laptop, and brews coffee, Starbucks seems to be my hangout for Monday afternoons.

This morning, being Monday morning, I woke up a bit more excited to go to Starbucks than usual. A few of my friends are avid and faithful followers of Starbucks and their random happy hour specials; lately that of 'Half Priced Frappacino Happy Hour'. Me being the stickler I am am usually pretty pessimistic about these things (I mean half price is still nearing on $3! Does anyone else find this only a bit of a deal?). Also to make me sound like even more of a grump, I've worked in coffee shops before and know exactly how much work and how much money goes into making something like a Frappacino, and I can tell you its not worth even close to the amount they cost, unless, of course, the polar glaciers completely melt, global warming wins, and, as a result, there is an ice shortage pandemic in the world. However, today I woke up thinking, "yeah, that's alright...a nice treat for myself in just about the perfect weather". So today, I decided, rather than getting the cheapest possible drink at Starbucks above water from the tap in my travel mug from home (my usual), I bought one of these fancy frappacinos (which I admit are good, but never, ever, necessary). Fairly happy with my purchase, and maybe a little apathetic, I sat down at a table and pulled out my laptop ready to get some stuff done. Amidst all the chaos of moving wires and fixing the ideal position for my laptop (which I'm secretly pretty picky about), I knocked over my drink having it all spill on the floor (literally all of it, I had not even put in the straw yet).

With my drink all over the floor, and just about everyone around me looking awkwardly and silently at me, I was slightly embarrassing. But then the money-saving-down-with-the-man side of me helped me come to the realization that I just completely wasted a $3 drink. Then a certain attitude towards it all came over me, one that I had never really felt before: it's cool. As I cleaned up the mess and sorta awkwardly smiled at people around me, I kept asking myself, why does this not bother me? I kept trying to prove to myself that it should and I need to be at least a little frustrated at my stupidity. But no matter how hard I tried to tell myself what an annoying and bothersome situation I was in, I just could not convince myself that it was that big of a deal. There was a peace over me, a peace over the situation, that it wasn't a big deal. In short, it is what it is and, what it is, is cool.

What does it mean to have peace over something; to have peace over a situation or to be at peace with the things at hand? I think to have peace over something is to be able to see the bigger picture, to remove yourself from the moment you are in, and see the wider scope and know that things are good. It is a completely natural, and rational, reaction for people to go through life living in the micro, analyzing every detail and nit picking at the immediate world that apparently defines their identity. We get something on sale, we are happy; we are sitting in traffic, we are sad; we buy something we really like, we are happy; we spill it all over the floor, we are sad. We live and devote our lives to how we feel in given situations; we become slaves to what's going on and lose who we are in the midst of it.

My questions is this: what does it mean to see the bigger picture in our lives? Further, what does it look like to the people around us when we start acting and living based on the mindset that we are NOT enslaved by the hi's and low's of our daily routine? Now, I am not being ignorant. I think in my line of work I see, more than most, people who do not have a reality beyond their current state; to see the big picture is not only a far off dream, but, even more so, a foolish ideal that blurs the truth. For many people, the current is everything. But, whether it's true or not, whether it's possible to live in this way, I have to believe that there is more than the current. The present, the current state we are, cannot be everything we are because life only works if there is a greater and more foundational truth to each of our lives. If there is no hope that we are bigger than "this" and that we are not slaves to the things that go on on a micro scale in our lives, then we are fighting a useless fight; we are running towards a destination to nowhere.

Our jobs, that status of our relationships, our interests and priorities, our emotions and feelings...these things define where we are at because these things change. Where we are at in our journey in life is something beautiful, don't get me wrong. But if where I am at defines who i am, I am the subject of a completely unstable and damaging reality. Now what we are, that's a different story. What we are does not change...the core of our identities and the fundamental truths, innate truths, of who a person is is something even more beautiful. These are the things that can never be changed; what we are is the defining immutable truth over each of our lives. If there is no hope that who I am is defined by what I am, and not where I am at, then I am not excited, and certainly not at peace, with who I am.

What does a revolution of people that see themselves at the core of who they are and not the labels or states that confine them look like? What does it mean to see a world transformed by each individual's realization that they are more than the things that define them; that their identities are rooted in the truth of what they are and not where they are at in their journey in life.

That would be scary as hell...and awesome.

------

Song of the Week:



(Shad; A Story No One Told. Not only is Shad's flow amazing, but this song speaks poetry, truth, and life that is so refreshing to a barren and empty rap game)

March Break Camp 2011

Check out a recap of our March Break Camp 2011 (you may see a familiar face!):

Goong Hay Fat Choy!

CHINESE NEW YEAR @ Camp Victory. Trying out different chinese snacks, learning how to use chopsticks, and getting red pockets (with candy and chocolate coins inside)

priorities

another fun conversation with some of my 5 and 6'ers, and 7 and 8's:

their take on priorities:

1. God

2. Spelling

3. Friends

4. Girlfriend/Boyfriend

Makes sense, no?

tiny fists and feet

Since my arrival in September, I have been heading up a team in running an afterschool program with our children in the community of Rexdale. There are many jobs and duties that come with my role, but probably the most dominant and identifiable responsibility the position requires of me, at least in the eyes of the kids, is that of the last line of discipline. Our kids go through a system of warnings and precautions when they act out of line or misbehave during program, and in doing so, we hope we are providing them with a rare type of love that sets their self-potential higher than those around them, and even themselves, may have assumed. Out of the twenty kids in our program, every single one knows that the last thing they want to do is be sent by another leader to MC (aka me), because MC has the power to suspend them from camp. At the end of all the warnings available to our kids, the very last line of discipline means a trip to the dreaded office where I, MC, give them their final warning and let them know I will be watching them and how they behave, and if I have to talk to them one more time, I will have to take further action, usually involving a suspension or coming in some sort of contact with their parents.

It is an interesting role, in many cases, being the “bad guy”. Kids can say some pretty nasty things when they are mad at you, and, at the end of the day, although they are just words, kids can have a pretty lasting effect on your emotional state. I have been told many times by a variety of kids that camp was better when I wasn’t there, and it would be better if I never came. How much they hate camp and hate me and the other leaders is also a pretty popular option. Most of the times, a kid may be having a bad day, and it shows in his or her behaviour. And, as mentioned above, they usually end up being sent to me; eyebrows furled, arms crossed, and a big frown on their face. You could have zero interaction with them the whole day, and still you, ironically enough, embody the entire reason why today is the worst day of their life. Usually once or twice a day, I become the empty canvas at least one of my kids will project all the struggle or stress they experience in their life at home or their life at school upon.

But the question is why? Why, in a world and society where you learn at an early age that you do not disrespect your elders, your authority, would you dare take that chance? My kids are not stupid; if anything, each probably has way more common sense than the average 5-10 year old. Many of them, in any other context would not dare fight back or argue against anyone with the power to discipline them because they know the chances of their consequence being nice for them is not in their favour. So then why do they take that risk against us? Especially with myself, the one who holds the final say, and with one phone call or visit to their house, can send them back home to a very unhappy parent.

I think it is because my kids feel something different at camp; something maybe they are not as used to. Perhaps its because our kids are surrounded by leaders, by men and woman of authority and power, who are not easily swayed to give up on them. So many of our kids are given a bad rap before they can even walk solely based on the community they live in, the colour of their skin, or the history of their families. For many of them, they are used to being given up on; they are used to people telling them success is unachievable; they are used to people telling them to set their standards low. But when they come to camp, there is something different in the air: discouragement is replaced by encouragement, low standards and expectations are replaced with higher ones, doubt and skeptism are replaced by trust, and hope becomes the new banner they live under; even if it is just for two hours a day in which they spend with us.

So when they attack me (both with words and with their tiny fists and feet), I think they do so because they know I am big enough to take it. They know that no matter what they say to me, no matter how much they throw at me, they know I won’t stop loving them. I think they are not afraid to unload all their anger and frustration on me, as well as my other leaders, because they know we see beyond it all and can still see a beautiful boy or girl beyond the distractions. I think they choose to hate us sometimes because they know we are the only ones that would care.

For the past couple months, just starting off, it has been a blessing to be able to be that person for so many of these kids; to be someone they can vent to, and at the end of the day allow them to still come out encouraged or, at least, with the sense that they are loved by someone. And with every blessing, the more and more I interact with the kids, the more I see myself in them. The more and more I work with kids, who wear their hearts on their sleeves, the more and more I realize how impatient I am, how short sighted I sometimes perceive situations, how so often I need to be loved when I deserve anything but it.

The more and more my kids feel more comfortable to yell at me, the more and more they learn to trust me, to understand how much I love them. Who is that in your life? Who is big enough to “take it”; to handle your tiny fists and feet?

tune from the east

beauty in the form of a song:

Foy Vance: Gabriel and the Vagabond

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y4cjCuUQUwI

although it's been said, many times, many ways...

Highschool is an interesting time because so much of it is geared towards allowing students to grow and become equipped for the "real world"; there is so much planning and constructing of the curriculum and classroom to ensure that young men and women retain vital and useful information. Highschool was one of the most beneficial times in my life as far as learning and growing, but sometimes I must sit back, analyze, and laugh at what has stuck with me to this day. The actual teaching, I remember only selections of it, but the things that could not be planned: the intangibles, the moments, and the memories, have stuck with me and taught me an infinite amount of lessons.

However, one of the few things I remember well was an experiment I did many times in science class: titration tests. Now, granted, I barely remember the purpose of such an experiment other than the fact that I was looking for some sort of "breaking point" of a substance with another. Nonetheless, it was a tedious task: you would start with one substance, and, one drop at a time, would add another substance. With each drop, you would record if there had been any change. Now the frustrating part of this experiment is that, eventually, twenty or thirty drops in, the substance being added to would finally change colour: this exact drop was the mystery number each student was trying to discover. It always bothered me, being the impatient type, that the change, although gradual (in the realm of chemistry and science, a world I lack familiarity in), would only become visible to me within a single instance; that I could not escape dramatic change.

The past half year, in my life, has been one of dramatic change. For starters, I have gone from being a full time student (since the tender age of 5 years old), to being a full time employed worker; no longer do I worry about marks or grades, homework or exams. Instead, my time is now occupied by planning and running programs for children, social interactions with colleagues and parents, and raising money for every situation and scenario. Another change that has occurred is in the plans for my future; my "five year plan" has been significantly shaken and confused. Now, being in ministry, being single, and devoting most of my time in the city of Etobicoke, on the complete opposite side of Toronto I thought I'd be, the future has become something of uncertainty, unknowingness, and frazzled excitement. On top of all this, the nature of many of my friendships, relationships, and interactions with both people and places around me have changed; a natural transformation which can be described, neither as good nor bad but rather, as different.

And now December is here, and Christmas is only a couple days away; the question I must ask is "what has changed?". Sure, it has been a gradual progression, but this year seems to draw some significant differences, or changes in my mood and manner. As a child, Christmas meant everything to me: the gifts, the joy of making and consuming Christmas cookies, the excitement of having family come over every Christmas for a complete day of fun. Christmas movies and music defined the season, and even while I have never enjoyed shopping, experiencing the Christmas cheer in malls became a pleasant routine. Even the Christmas Eve service at my church: sure, the message was a bit dry and the songs were split into three languages, only one of which I knew, there was something magical about the night; something exciting, something joyful.

So what has changed? As much as I hate to admit it, it may be that I am growing up; getting older. The malls now sometimes make me feel lost: the busyness of people who have no intention to grasp the "christmas spirit", and the overwhelming joys of consumerism and materialism have made malls a place I tend to steer away from. Our Christmas day traditions, although still great, have become shorter and quieter. No longer are there the laughter and joys of children playing, as myself and all my cousins have all grown up. I used to have so much energy every year, but in the past couple December 25th, I find myself taking a nap in the afternoon due to exhaustion. I used to also bank on the fact that Christmas was a time of universal peace and joy; that whether you were religious or not, believing or unbelieving, Christmas was a time when humanity drew together as one. But the less ignorant I become and the more I see the world, I realize that this is not true. There is still suffering, there is still pain and sorrow (sometimes even more so during the holidays), in the season of "joy to the world". Christmas, sadly, can sometimes become a mask for many that keeps our lives and our outlook of the world peaceful, simple, and safe.

While this may seem extremely depressing, this is not my intent. Christmas is still happy; it is still something of beauty and joy. But we change; we as humans change; and along with this change, so our thoughts, ideas, and perspectives follow. Does this mean Christmas changes as well? While we all hope to instil the anxious child in us, waiting for Santa Clause to arrive, we eventually cannot deny the fact that this child has grown up. Is it for the kids, not yet tainted? Do we go through the rituals, go through the stories every year, to give our younger generation their fair share?

In the season of Christmas, things change. Our traditions and our memories become lost, or at the very best, altered. Similarly, our moods and feelings are so fleeting. Even the story of Christmas and of Christ's birth, it is something we, as humans, have become so accustomed to: a "holy" story made for a "holy" occasion; I mean, isn't it that much more comforting and relieving to reflect on the manger, baby Jesus, as we sit by a Christmas tree and drink egg nog? No offence to anyone, but isn't it harder to reflect on the peaceful setting of Christ's arrival in Bethlehem in July? The story of Christ's birth is not something new; similarly it's not a new idea that we try to keep the "Christ" in "Christmas; in fact it's so familiar and so popular, that it has become a ploy of the media and the world.

But, I think the answer, one I've been learning in the last couple days, is from Luke 2: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favour rests". Christmas time is not as much about remembering the gift of Jesus, but reflecting on the everlasting and constant promises we claim as God's people. The gift of Jesus, His birth and descending onto the earth is not an isolated event, nor is His life, birth, ministry, death, and resurrection, an isolated collection of event. Rather, it is part of the grand story of Luke 2: the story of earth, where lies men, whom God's favour, for some illogical and unknown reason, rests.

In an ever changing season, a time that becomes new and old with every year, what do we hold on to? What remains consistent? It's not the sounds and sights, it's not the memories and traditions. I am learning that what remains consistent is the ongoing story of God's love for humanity: the one that did not begin in the manger, and the one that certainty does not end at the cross. Don't get me wrong, the birth of Jesus is something to be praised; it is something to help us remember and remind us of the gift of our salvation. I am not saying that the story of the manger, or even the celebration of Christmas and the holidays is something we should ignore or belittle. I love Christmas, both the story of Christ coming and the celebration of the season, but these things are subsets, they are results of God's everlasting promise of love for humanity. Let us not forget that "peace on earth and goodwill to men" is not a result of December 25th, but a banner on which we, both believers and non-believers, all live under everyday.