Settling in...

I'm writing this entry during a little break from editing. I'm busy cutting a segment for a pilot episode for a T.V show that I've helped to produce. As I've been humming along these past few hours, alone in the studio , I've been been thinking about where I'm at and getting a little clearer picture.

See, I've spent much time in prayer and contemplation lately, trying to figure out how to best spend my time doing what it is I love to do (and pay the bills), and really get to the bottom of what God wants me to do with my passions. I've kind of been in a vacuum of discovery for the last few months, and while I've grown thru the process, I've found myself very busy figuring out where my niche is in this crazy business of entertainment. Like, really busy. I've been working really hard, but the question I've been asking myself these past few hours is this: Have I been working smart?

The problem for me is this... I love to work. (esp. in T.V. and film) and I've been working the last few months on projects that have definitely expanded my skill set, increased my knowledge and given me a far better understanding of how this crazy business works. And now I've got figure out how I'm gonna work in this crazy business, and, as I said above, honour God by doing what I'm supposed to be doing.
I'm getting better at editing, but I don't love it. I'm getting better at figuring out tech-y stuff, but I don't love it. I'm getting better at settling for work that takes up my time, I don't love it. I want passion. I want what God wants. I know this isn't gonna happen over night, but if I'm honest with myself, which I'm trying to be here, I better start finding ways to spend more time working at getting better at what it is I love to do.
I better get back to work.

A Life Well Lived...

I was in South Beach last week taking a mini vacation with my wife when I got the news. First off, I vowed not to check my email while down there, but alas, I did. That's where I saw the email entitled "Tragedy". And I can't come up with a better word. A man that I hold in very high regard died suddenly, while working as a missionary in Africa. Myself, like hundreds of thousands of others who have had the pleasure of knowing him have been processing the magnitude of his passing for the last week.
Why?
Because, not only are we grieving the loss of an awesome guy, a passionate follower of Jesus, but three very young children are now without a dad. That hurts.
But his story, though tragic, was inspired. And his life, though painfully short, was lived well and with purpose. It was passionate. It was adventurous. And most importantly, it had God's fingerprints all over it.
Reading about this man this past week has made me feel insecure about my own faith. This was a man who heard the undeniable call to go to Africa and serve. God called him to this, and he obeyed. And, as his broken hearted father in-law said so perfectly yesterday... He literally sacrificed his life for God.
As a follower, and a professed man of faith, I can honestly say that I feel a little insecure about my faith in comparison to this man. You see, God calls us to live for Him. The problem for me is that one of my many sins is the desire for comfort and security, but the will of God is the furthest thing away from that. In fact, the will of God is the most dangerous place on earth. It eliminates the need for comfort. It eliminates the fear of failure, the fear of judgment and most importantly... the fear of death.
This man, whom I hold in high regard died at the young age of 36 doing the will of God. He died in Africa in a horrible accident, while building a prayer tower. He did not die in vain.
And now, hundreds of thousands of people like myself, are processing the magnitude of of his life... And are truly inspired by it.

Rob Hall is this man...

danielroberthall.net ...and if you've ever wondered what it's like to live a life of faith, this would be a shining example.

The Grinds

I'm trying to attach an earth shattering metaphor to this picture, but the simple fact is: I'm grinding my own coffee in the morning. I know. Very exciting indeed. So exciting that I must write about it. Wow!!
But there's something cool about fresh coffee ground by me by hand. So old school. It feels like my routine cup o' java is now a "reward" opposed to a "right".
My life is starting to trend towards that as well. My life is starting to resemble a freshly ground cup of coffee. I've been grinding it out since I ventured back into the production world, and now I'm starting to see the rewards. Opportunities are poppin' up. Mind you, I've got a long way to go before I achieve my goals, but I can actually see things starting to brew. Things that are realistic for me now, and can only help me in the future. I'm still gonna have to grind for a while, but like my with coffee, I'm enjoying the grind, as much as the steamy cup of coffee.
Spiritually speaking, it's the exact same thing. I feel like I've been grinding it out for a long time, but now, finally, I can clearly feel the rewards taking root. I know my ultimate reward is not gonna be anything physical, like a cup of coffee. But I can at least, appreciate how good Jesus tastes after grinding it out for what feels like "forever" without him. The Christian life ain't easy, but it teaches you that
nothing in life ever comes easy, and anything that's worth it, shouldn't. Otherwise, you wouldn't appreciate it. Maybe that's my metaphor. It sure makes sense to me. I'll raise a mug to that. Here's to the grinds. May you savour every minute of it.

Life 101

Yesterday was humbling. Yesterday I learned a lot about myself. Yesterday, reality set in. It wasn't pretty. Yesterday I shanked 4 wedges, yesterday I lost 6 golfballs. Yesterday, I shot 101.
Granted, the course was tough, and the winds were howling, but I haven't been north of 100 strokes, since my teens. I didn't have a case of the slices or hooks. I wish it were that simple. I went left, right, and wrong. It was brutal... and educational.
When dealing with such a sobering round of golf, many things go thru your mind. You want to pout, but don't. You want to throw your clubs, but don't. You want to quit, but don't. Why not?
For one: my dad drove from Sarnia to play. two: I've only played 6 times this year. And three: it's just a game. So, I grit my teeth and grinded it out right to the end. And in hindsight, it turned out to be one of the most rewarding rounds of golf in my life.
...and my life seems to be in a similar state as my golf game. My head tells me that I'm still an 8 handicap, but my game proves to be otherwise. Same as my life. I'm not where I was. I'm not where I want to be. Those things have been hard to swallow these last few weeks. But after my round of golf, I learned that you can't dwell. My ball is not in the middle of the fairway, it's in the tall grass. But I can see it, and more importantly, I can still see the green.
Life 101 is this: If you're not where you want to be, grind it out until you are. And to prove my point...
I finally found my swing and hit my best drive of the day on the very last hole. The ball landed 265 yards down the middle and it bounced through the fairway and into a creek. Undeterred, I dropped another ball and hit a seven iron over a lake, thru a 30 mile an hour crosswind, and stuck it 10 feet from the pin and made par with a penalty stroke.
This great golf tale has been made possible by a guy who doesn't quit.

No Hands!!

So I've been biking a lot lately. Taking advantage of the weather as well as the escarpment trails. Yesterday was my wife's birthday, so I bought her a bike. As we were riding down to the harbour for a little breakfast, we discussed the idea of riding our bikes with no hands. I thought about my face, and how much I like it. Why would I risk falling on it? Then I thought about being a kid. All I wanted to do was be like the big kids. They were riding around with no hands and looking so cool. That's what I wanted. So over time I built up the courage and faith in my bike to do it. I didn't think about my face, or breaking a bone or anything like that. I was focused on the task and just went for it. I was 10 and I was free.
What happened to me? All of these "what ifs" popping into my head 20 some years later. When did I lose my sense of adventure? I learned to ride this way when I was 10. Why can't I do it now, in my thirties?
I sat over breakfast pondering this dilemna. Somewhere along the way I became a wuss. I let logic talk me out of doing something adventurous. As I savoured my cinnamon- raisin french toast, I couldn't help but feel remorseful about the person I'd become. I didn't want that adventure seeker to die. So, with a full belly, and a fresh perspective. I biked back home. And, as I turned down my street, I let go. Did I mention that it was down hill? The speed kept building and building and building. My eyes got wider. My smile got bigger. I didn't crash! My wonderful face is still in tact. I even waved at my neighbour as I passed by. He must have thought I was so cool. Or not.
It doesn't matter. What matters is that in some small way I claimed that adventurous 10 year old back. I'm still here. If I can attach a lesson for my life from this experience. It's just to simply: have faith. Ride thru life sometimes with no hands. If you're battling insecurities, or fears or anything that is holding you back from "living"...let go.
God Bless

A litte piece of Heaven

Although the title of this entry seems a little cliche, it holds meaning for me. I just returned from visiting, what I grew up thinking, was the greatest place on earth... The Cottage.
Tucked in a quiet corner of Lake Waseosa, just outside Huntsville, is truly "A little piece of Heaven"
I hadn't been there for almost 13 years and all I've been able to think about was the phrase "A little piece of Heaven" I'll explain why in a second. 13 years ago I went on the annual trip to my favourite place in the world, with a bunch of friends. No parents, just a bunch of 20 year old buddies. It was an epic weekend... to say the least. Many stories that have since been repeated over and over, and some we'd like to forget. We were at a reckless age, and probably drank more than we needed to. But we cleaned up after ourselves and left the place the same way we found it. Or so we thought. I've had 13 years of experience, five of those as a married man, to hone my cleaning skills, so it might not have been up to today's standards. However, I've always respected the cottage and would never leave knowing that I ruined anything. Two weeks after I'd returned home, I received a letter. It ripped me to shreds. In a very detailed manner, I had been basically scolded like a child and banished from the cottage. The reason still resonates with me today. The last sentence in the letter said that I had ruined their "little piece of heaven." I didn't let on at the time, but that comment cut me deep.
How could it be their piece of heaven if it was my piece of heaven?? I loved that place! How could someone think that I'd want to ruin it? But there was no compromise,
no opportunity to make amends. My Uncle bought the cottage and it became his and it was used solely by his ever expanding family. I wondered if I'd ever be able to enjoy that little piece of heaven again.
As you can see by the pictures, the answer is yes. I took these pics this morning at 7am while everyone else on the lake was asleep. It was a moment I'd been dreaming about for 13 years. I just wanted to see it again. I wanted to smell the pine. I wanted it to feel like it was mine. and in that moment, this morning I understood what the that sentence in the letter meant. This place is magical. This place is glorious. I was so appreciative of that moment. Thanks for forgiveness. Thanks for second chances. Thanks for letting me back, Uncle Jack.
God is good.
Amen.

Reboot..

#1 I haven't blogged in months. #2 Life gets nuts sometimes. Now that I've got those two facts out there, I'd like to announce that I'm back! and am now living in Hamilton.
My wife and I have committed ourselves to this new journey and we are officially off and running! Well, maybe jogging, ...er' speed walking.
Hamilton has been a big adjustment. Were renting again, which feels like a step backwards, but in reality, it's a big step sideways until we get a feel for this city. We left a pretty comfy existence in Sarnia to come here, so I'm expecting a couple of bumps. Well, maybe hills ...er' escarpments.
When Cindy and I moved into our apartment it was supposed to be cleaned... it wasn't. Including the carpets... they weren't. So all of our belongings went into the kitchen while we set up an appointment for a cleaner. Which couldn't happen until the following day. so, we headed back to Sarnia for the night. Back the next day to meet the cleaner, we realized the hydro was shut off by the power company. How did we discover this? Our carpet cleaner (paid by the hour) went to plug his machine in, the one he already lugged up a flight of stairs, and it didn't turn on. So in a panic, I called the hydro company and to our surprise, they had our hydro back on almost immediately. There have been some emotional ups and downs since then, but all in all it's starting to feel like our home... Until last night... Last night, we discovered we were not alone.
I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of little feet scampering across the roof outside. Or so I thought. Cindy freaked out and thought it was inside. I laughed, thinking she was half asleep. So I put my head down and started to drift off when it happened again. I remember being very impressed with acoustics in our bedroom. Wow, that sounds like- Then it flew a foot above my head. It was A BAT!!! that's right, A FRIGGIN' BAT!!! and it wasn't outside!! I looked at Cindy, who was already on lockdown inside the comforter and pillows. I was on my own. I sprang out of bed and grabbed the closest thing to me. A white T-shirt. I tried to flick the bat with my T-shirt and pick it off in mid-flight. The whole time running thru a mental checklist of all of the things I know about bats. Which isn't much. I thought they were blind, but he just toyed with me and easily evaded my attacks with the T-shirt. I heard bats carry rabies I don't know if that's actually true, but, I was a little nervous. And lastly, I thought bats lived in caves, so why the hell was I up at 3am in my boxers, trying to kill one with my dirty white T-shirt in my bedroom?! After minutes went by, Cindy could wait no longer. She made a mad dash with our comforter out of our bedroom into the spare room. I was convinced that he was rabid by this point and now I was alone. So I quickly followed and slammed the door behind me. We trapped the bat, but it wasn't a very good night sleep after that.
This morning I went into our bedroom and the bat wasn't anywhere to be seen. I'll keep you posted if he returns.
Yup, Cindy and I are so excited to be on this journey together.