The Kid on the Running Board

A divisive topic indeed. Just re-read Colossians 3:15,16 in my quiet time. Part of an oft referred to portion of Scripture.

Never mind the music – whether it’s too fast or too slow, too loud or too soft, too…whatever; never mind that they allow drums or don’t even use a piano,  what do the Words say?

Whether they are psalms or hymns or spiritual songs – are they words of wisdom, do they teach me something, do they admonish (warn, advise or mildly reprove) something in my life? Do the words I sing create in me a thankful heart toward God? (Col. 3:16 nasb)

Paul doesn’t ask me if I like the songs, he asks me to “let (allow, permit) the word of Christ” to “richly dwell (make one’s home) within” me.

“Let the peace of Christ rule” in my heart  (vs. 15).  How then can I hurt the witness of the universal or local church to the rest of the world? How indeed!

Time-out. In a chair. Facing into a corner or against a wall. In what sport does this happen, you may well ask. It’s called The Game of Life.

The penalty call is for running in a “no run zone” or having a temper tantrum or “potty mouth”. The official making the decision is usually not wearing a black and white shirt nor is the call preceded by a shrill whistle blast. It’s not an automatic red card, it was probably preceded by a warning yellow card in the form of a verbal count to three, a warning which went unheeded. The tired, frustrated parent is trying to bring a sense of order into the chaotic household.

I am a grandfather. My parents didn’t use this technique with my brother and I, nor I with my sons. Am I against this form of correction? No, not really, I just think it is over done, often exclusive. Varying types and severity of punishment should be used to more closely line up with the indiscretion. Removal of a privilege or treat and spanking are two methods that come to mind. Just as modern day human resource departments use progressively harsher discipline with employees, so should parents.

Parenting today is not easy. I believe it is more difficult now than when I was a parent. And now a confession to my boys. I now strongly believe that explanation and love needs to be the over-arching umbrella of child discipline. Explaining that actions have consequences, explaining which actions are not acceptable, and why; showing love by words and deeds, often, not just when disciplining. In these two areas I could have done a much better job. Forgive me.

My wife and I joke with our grandkids about Nana sending Grampa to his time-out chair when he is bad. They think that is funny. Silly Grampa. Oh well, at least my chair is outdoors.

Grampa's Time-out Chair

Here it is!

Praying Mantis

OK, here are some hints to the identity of Guess #1.

1. 6 legs, two word name
2. it can fly
3. I’ve seen green and brown

Word of Explanation

“Guess” is  a category where I will post an image and you have to guess what is in the photograph. It might be like today’s image, something hidden in it’s habitat. Or it might be an obvious picture of a bird or wild flower or mushroom which you have to identify.

It will be an opportunity for you to learn more about nature and sharpen your outdoor observational skills. Email me your guess. After folks have had a few days to interact, I will post the answer. Have fun with this category.

Here is “Guess # 1″.

Guess # 1

Happy Canada Day!

From my office I can hear fireworks as our national celebration winds down. I lean back in my chair and reflect on what it means (to me) to be Canadian, to be born in Canada, to have only lived in Canada.

I have the freedom to complain that we don’t have enough doctors, that it took two years to find a family physician when I moved to this city, that his office is in a nearby town, that it takes me 20 minutes to drive my car to an appointment. But … I can’t say I have no doctor, or that it takes me hours to ride my bicycle to him, or that medical help is a two day walk away from my house.

I have the freedom to complain about the telemarketer whose first language is not English or the brash young man at the door, both who are trying to sell me cheaper natural gas from a different supplier so I can afford to heat my house next winter. My brick house, with insulated walls and ceilings, with double glazed argon filled vinyl clad windows, and carpeted and hardwood floors. I can’t complain about not finding enough wood in the semi-arid region in which I live so my family can have a fire to cook food and enjoy a little heat. I can’t complain it’s difficult to vacuum a dirt floor.

I have the freedom to eat more animal protein in one day than many have for a week, some in a month. I do complain about having too many choices for supper – will it be steak on the BBQ, or grilled fish, or roasted chicken, or a fast-food hamburger, or lamb at the Greek restaurant?

I have the freedom to watch the evening news on television, I see people rioting and dying in cities half way around the world, rising up against tyranny, fighting for the very things that I complain about.

Oh Canada …