be-musings

It was disheartening a couple months ago when we were broken into at Bad Dog, but we injected humour into the day. We found out later that following morning that the only suspect was a woman we had been serving as part of the Red Card program, whereby people could purchase meal vouchers at a minimal price, and we provide the food for less than full retail price. She was outside the restaurant at 4:30am, when Lori arrived, telling Lori that she saw who did it and had given the police her statement. Little did we know at that time, that it was her who did it.

One of the conditions of the woman's release was that she couldn't come within a certain distance of our restaurant. It seems appropriate, and for the most part she has complied. I think I have seen her dart in once or twice to say hi to someone within, but maybe that's a woman who looks like her (or maybe it is her).

This woman cost us some momentum, some sleep, some belief that the people who we serve in the Red Card program are decent people down on their luck. Plus, it cost $700 to replace the window, and the floor and a table still bear some gouges from the falling glass. I'm not at the restaurant every day serving, so for those who are it probably "sticks in their craw" more than me. I didn't have any relationship or conversation with this woman before or after the incident.

I have seen her in the street. I walk by, and on occasion have thought to speak to her about the situation and remind her not to mess with us again. That's the fighter Annette, the one that is usually only an inside voice, but sometimes does come out. I want to protect my stuff and my friends that work at the Dog. Plus, sometimes I get afraid.

But I don't confront and I don't say anything and I don't look at her for long. I wonder what kind of grace I should bestow to her, an addict who steals and hooks for her fix. I wonder what kind of grace Jesus wants me to bestow. Surely just enough not to be mean, but not too much that I invite her in again. That's where I settle, because that's the best I can come up with. Is it because that's what Jesus is saying to me, as far as I will listen, or because I'm too passive aggressive to really do anything either way?

I have thought of something to say to a person who I have perceived to be a threat to me and those around me, from whom I have felt betrayal and lies, and have been surprised with the heartbeat and heat in my chest as the words have leapt almost uncontrollably into my head. Fighter Annette. I don't like those thoughts. Yet, when I face the person, those words and sentiments don't come out. I say a quiet hello, and wonder what Jesus would expect of me. Sometimes I feel dishonest that I don't portray the real thoughts and feelings, and wonder if I'm being passive aggressive again. Is that what it is, or is it that I keep telling myself that there is a story behind everyone, even if it is a twisted story? Am I chicken, or am I extending ... grace? Sometimes how do I really know where each line blurs into the other?

Last week I heard a song I hadn't listened to for a while. It strikes me in my sinner's heart when I hear it, and I am thankful that Jesus has given me that which I must be prodded to give others. I've blogged the lyrics before, but I like them alot.

Grace
She takes the blame
She covers the shame
Removes the stain
It could be her name

Grace
It's a name for a girl
It's also a thought that
Changed the world
And when she walks on the street
You can hear the strings

Grace finds goodness
In everything

Grace
She's got the walk
Not on a ramp or on chalk
She's got the time to talk
She travels outside
Of karma, karma
She travels outside
Of karma

When she goes to work
You can hear the strings

Grace finds beauty
In everything

Grace
She carries a world on her hips
No champagne flute for her lips
No twirls or skips
Between her fingertips

She carries a pearl
In perfect condition
What once was hurt
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings

Because grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things

Grace finds beauty
In everything

Grace finds goodness
In everything

I have so far to go.

Labels: grace

I'm home from the restaurant early to be with Matthew (well, he is in bed actually). I don't like being home waiting for Scott and have a hard time sleeping when he is out, so I won't try unless it becomes really late. But what do I do? My mind turns to the inevitable...maybe I should read a book. Since I'm so experienced at it now, I could probably finish one in the next couple of hours. But I've finished that National Geographic book, so what is there. Hey, I know. I haven't started reading a daily calendar that I got in December. Text, a spine...like the Dilbert book! It wouldn't be right to finish it in one night, but I could get in a couple of chapters.

When I was 10 I used to read Nancy Drew and the Hardy boys while walking to school. Actually, Nancy Drew was whoosy, so I preferred the Hardy boys. Plus, they were a lot cuter - Nancy Drew's picture on the front of the book looked too plain for me.

When I was 24 I read CS Lewis' The Screwtape Letters while walking to work along a busy TransCanada route. I used to love reading while walking.

For me, reading isn't a sedentary activity. It puts me to sleep. But lately, I have rediscovered it. This past weekend Scott and I went to a local Bed & Breakfast for a day away from responsibility, parenting, work. I'm proud to say I read a book, cover to cover, in that 24 hours. Here it is:

The nice thing about these books is that they're cheap and they get sent to me once a month.
So, as I'm writing this Ben and Scott are saying that it isn't really a book. Let me ask you two questions: 1) Are there words that I read? 2) Is there a spine? Then IT'S A BOOK. I found out about the white bear, in the black bear family, born from two recessive genes creating the light fur colour. I learned that Orca's eat dolphins and that I won't ever go on a Klondike Trail tourist site because I think they're boring. So, I think I learned a lot from my book.

Last month when heading into the bathtub I announced that I was going to read a book, and picked up my Dilbert daily calendar. Since I hadn't read it in 3 months and it has a spine, it qualified. But then I dropped it in the water with 1 month left to read....

To me, Larry's concerts were always fabulous and moving. His funeral was no less so. That's a weird thing to say about a funeral, because there is so much sadness and longing to have one last time with the person, preferably when they were well. Often people ask funeral attenders "how was it" as they wince at the words because they don't know what else to say. My answer: "amazing".

Larry was ready to go home. His life, greatly used by God, was also fraught with pain and human sorrow. He deeply loved and in some cases deeply lost. He was loved by many and shunned by many others. His years of pain and lingering death from heart problems were close to being over early last week. We heard stories of his violent physical reactions in the last remaining days, and stories of his kindness throughout.

Larry was an idea man and director. He left the family notes of what he would like done at his funeral, which they executed well for him. It was like being at one of his concerts. We saw pictures of him as a baby, boy, man, performer. It was punctuated with his music, which we knew by heart. Over 2 hours of music, stories, pictures. Not one moment of it boring. We laughed, and cried and remembered a life that was full to capacity. Near the end we even did karaoke of one of the songs, as we stood and smiled and clapped to the music. Then, the song "Goodbye" was played to end the day. As Scott said later, they got us laughing and then smacked us in the forehead. The service was all it should be, I thought. I felt that I had experienced Larry's ministry and his concert once again.

Larry knew people would be sad at his passing, because they will miss him. He wanted them to know that he was looking forward to being with God and curious about the journey home. He couldn't erase their sorrow, but he could reassure them and encourage one last celebration.

Thanks Larry for the gig. Thanks to the family for sharing his life with us.

Larry, enjoy the field of flowers as you run to the Father ... Home at last.

For many years now I have lived with the awareness that he was on borrowed time. In 1993 I sat by his hospital bedside while he told me to make sure that if he dies I tell his son how much he loves him and that he has tried to live his life to his best and follow what God wants. I didn't want to hear him say those things, because I didn't want to think about his weak heart and the possibility of his death. I had come to love him as a friend, not just an icon.
He didn't die that day. No doubt he was dying progressively, and his health waned and surged for years following. He lived to see his 50th birthday, against many odds. He and his brother broadcast a live birthday celebration from their home studio.
There have been many rumours of Larry's death since his early 30s, even before the first heart attacks happened. He used to laugh with me about some of them that he had heard. I think it was because people didn't know how else to explain that he would disappear for periods of time, when he was with family or in Europe.

This year I got some of Larry's music as a present. Yesterday Nathan told me he heard his Moses song in class and we talked about the history behind the writing of the song, as I had heard it from the author himself. It helps to bring the song to life when you know these things. I was glad that someone so young enjoyed a piece of music that I myself listened to at his age, and by one I was fortuante enough to have been friends with. I have so many stories of experiences and of songs.
For more than a decade I have found listening to this music to be an emotional experience, as memories of my entire life flood back to me during the tunes. I remember sitting in the back seat of a car when I was 15, as friends drove around Creston BC listening to the Vaudeville style music of one tune. I thought the song was weird. Then hours later we watched him in concert, his long blonde hair shining in the lights, contrasted by his black leather coat.

I have seen many of his concerts over the years, both in the audience and side stage. All of them magical. That's when Larry was at his best, and shone for God. That's when the man Larry moved aside and the God vessel showed up.
One year, after I hadn't seen him for a while, he came to town and did a concert. I went. The whole night I was hoping he wouldn't do his song "Goodbye", because I find it so sad. He wrote it when he was in the hospital in Sweden after his first major heart attack. Well, when the evening was drawing to a close and Larry was taking requests, I heard this voice come from inside me. I shouted "Goodbye". And Larry sang it. I cried a bit, as I am now, thinking of the day that I would have to say goodbye to his mortal body. Thinking of the time I sat by his bed and heard him tell me how much he loves his boy. Thinking of so many memories that I have of him before and after our friendship began. So many to write here. Words come to me in torrents, but they won't make sense to those who weren't there because the images are so powerful that they can't be portrayed in the right way. I have to end here for now.


Good-bye, farewell, we'll meet again.
Somewhere beyond the sky.
I pray that you will stay with God.
Good-bye, my friends, good-bye.

The light grows dim, but in this hour,
I have no tears to cry.
My heart is full, my joy complete.
Good-bye, my friends, good-bye.

I feel no loss of hope as I grow older
Only this world weight upon my shoulder.

My heart beats to a slower song
So softly in my veins.
The night is warm, but in my sleep,
I dream of heavens reign.

Everything I am, I've tried to show you
In this life I’ve been so blest to know you
Good-bye, farewell, we'll meet again.
Somewhere beyond the sky.
I pray that you will walk with God.
Good-bye, my friends, good-bye.
Good-bye, my friends, good-bye.

I like change. Before those who know me laugh at that, I like the variety of new environments or new places. But I have a hard time with transition. It involves so much work. And I'm a conservative person when it comes to risk.
So, here I find myself, at another new phase in life. I don't mean the fact that I'm married less than 2 years and we're living with our blended family of 3 boys - aged 10, 17, 20. I mean that I now have an upcoming change in my professional life.
I often agonize over major decisions. I want to be impulsive, but I look at things from so many angles when they impact finances and business. When the option to start the restaurant was proposed, I was the one who took the longest to say yes, because I saw the risk and the tip of iceberg of work that it would require. It is way more difficult than I initially thought, and I thought it would be fairly time consuming. Let's just say "consuming" is the word to describe it.
This last few months it has been difficult to have a life with the demands of my work contracts and juggling the restaurant as well. Something has had to give, and it has been difficult to come to the decision about that, because I need the money from my contracts. But I, the non-risk person, have had to come to a conclusion. I have given notice at one of my contracts where I work 3 days a week. I'll be spending more time at the restaurant, where I'll be able to help cook for lunch rushes, do the books there rather than at home (hopefully) and continue with administrative and creative input. I don't know that this will reduce my workload, because I tend to have a brain that spins about work stuff, but it is at least more of a streamlining of my life.
If I said that this change hasn't caused me some anxiety I would be lying. It means a change to the uncertain. It isn't "safe", because the restaurant is new and we have to figure out where my pay will come from.
I have had a lot of change in my life this last few years, and none of it is boring! But despite that, it is good. I have a patient loving husband, kids who love me (and vice versa), and never a dull moment. But honestly, I could use a couple of good shopping trips......for something other than massive quantities of groceries.