The not-an-omelet omelet

I am not a terrible cook.

I am not a great cook.

I am somewhere in the middle to lower third.  

With some time and some help I can achieve great things...like moving up to the middle.

On occasion I have surprised my wife with a meal.

On occasion I have surprised myself with a meal.

But these are usually special occasions with preparation and recipes and time and luck and a glass of wine for strength

Now that I am down here on my own, I am learning what "real" cooking looks like.  You are hungry, its the end of the day, you are tired, you haven't had the entire day to peruse recipes, buy your ingredients, get them all ready, cook them perfectly and in order....

At least I don't have a grumpy hungry husband asking me every five seconds what I'm going to make him for supper.  (Sorry about that wife, I am learning the hard way that this does not inspire you to want to make food for me :)  I yell at myself now and it doesn't inspire me to want to make food for myself either.)

Which brings me to my not-an-omelet omelet.

The picture you are looking at is my second attempt at the omelet.  I could not take a picture of the first attempt out of pure shame.  It tasted fine, but it looked like dog food.  For those of you thinking this picture doesn't look any better...well...you should have seen the first attempt.

Things were going well on this second attempt: at first.  The mushrooms were fried, the onions were fried, the omelet egg mixture was in the frying pan, everything was working together splendidly.  I actually thought I could pull it off.  Not too much time, not too much work, just a nice quick easy dinner that would look and taste like an omelet.  

Then things went horribly wrong.  I don't know exactly how or why it started to fall apart.  Maybe the heat was too high, maybe it was too low.  Maybe I attempted to turn it too quickly.  It seemed a little wet on top still, but the bottom was certainly omletey (my word invention for the day).  So I attempted the flip.  I'm not sure you should actually attempt to flip and omelet.  BAAAAAAAD things happen. Part of it flipped.  Part of it didn't.  Part of it began to run down the flipper toward my hand.  Some of it dripped on the stove.  A mushroom leapt to safety.  Another followed.  An onion attempted to follow and was quickly devoured in the flame.  I retrieved both onions and returned them to their proper place in the omelet.  But by now it had been on the flame a little too long and the parts that had not flipped well were beginning to burn, or at least get really really dark.  O.K.  burn.

I figured it was now or never.  Everything that was in the omelet pan ended up on my plate.  Except the traitor onion.  It was still burning in the hellish flames of its own making.  It was then I realized that in my haste I had forgotten the cheese.  Well, who was going to notice that the cheese wasn't actually inside the omelet.  There really wasn't an "inside" to it anyway.  

So the tomatoes and cheese went on top.  I took a picture of it.  For posterity.  

It still tasted amazing.  

I will continue to work on it.  I will be triumphant.    

What I learned in grad school

I was not the world's greatest organizer in my pre-grad school life.  I would get up from the dinner table in the middle of eating because I suddenly remembered something I was supposed to do, or to do something I knew I'd forget ten minutes later.  I once owned a day-timer.  I lost it.  I bought another one.  I forgot where I put it.
Once I turned around three times on my way to work to drive back home to get something I needed for the day at the office.  Three times.
Long term planning meant what are we having for lunch.
I knew I needed to learn to organize my time and set priorities and that I would be less stressed if I actually planned stuff out and wasn't always scrambling at the last minute.  Problem was, I didn't know how.  That, and I told myself that part of being "me" was being spontaneous and unplanned and always being able to pull stuff together at the last minute because that is what creative, rebellious people did.

So I survived in that mode for over 30 years.  I pastored a couple of churches in that mode.  Some good, some not so good.  I pulled off some great creative large church-wide programs well.  I didn't pull off others so well.  I burned out some of my staff and volunteers.  I burned out.

Then I went to grad school.  An MA at the largest university in Western Canada.  My first year I took three MA courses.  I was overwhelmed.  I had never had so much to read and so much to write and so much to prepare for every single night.  Every day in class we were expected to come prepared to discuss what we had read the night before.  Not just sit and listen to others discuss, but to actually be a contributing member of the discussion.  We had to be prepared to teach sections of the class to our fellow classmates.  We had to write papers.  Not little five page things, but lengthy in depth papers with bibliographies and citations.  This meant reading other books and papers on the same topic outside of what was assigned in class.  Position papers needed to be researched.  And then, at the end of every class we had to write a 30 - 40 page paper.  For each class.  On top of this, we had to begin research for our thesis, which we would spend our second year researching and writing.

I realized that I would never survive if I did not become organized.  I had to organize each semester, each month, each week, and each day.  I had to organize and plan for family time, social time, work time, research time, class time, writing time, even eating and sleeping.  Some weeks were busier than others.  Some weeks I didn't get as much sleep as I wanted (well, that seldom ever happened in grad school), some weeks extra assignments or editing or re-writes or teaching a class for someone else messed up my plans, but the point was, I had plans, and those plans saved me.

So here I am, three years removed from my post-graduate work, living alone in Vegas and realizing that as much as I needed to organize my time in the busyness, even more so I need to organize my time when I am alone without my family.  I have a lot more "free" time in my schedule right now and without organization and planning I can easily work too much, sleep too much, begin to get lazy, miss appointments, push stuff off, and get selfish and self-focused.

Grad school taught me that to be successful, I had to plan, organize, and then stick to the plan while being flexible enough to seize opportunities when they came along that might temporarily re-arrange things.

Sticking to that is not easy in this new phase of my life.  In fact, I believe it is harder to organize and plan when you are not overwhelmed by a million things.  When you aren't overwhelmed you tell yourself "I can push that off until tomorrow" or "I will get to that next week."

Lies.  All lies.

Grad school taught me the need to organize.  Real life is reminding me that I need to continue to organize.  Perhaps now more than ever.

 

The Christmas Visit

I landed in Vancouver airport at 12:05 a.m. Christmas morning, went through immigration and waited 6 hours in a Tim Horton's coffee shop for security to open so I could get on a plane and be home with my family by 9 a.m. Christmas morning to open presents.  It was worth it.  I arrived tired and happy and spent an amazing day with Jo and the kids and my mom and dad.  We ate tons of food.  Jo had made everything I love for Christmas dinner.  I literally had to crawl from the table to the couch after I ate (I don't think the Bible talks anywhere about gluttony does it? - I didn't think so).
My son Braden's birthday is January 17 and since I won't be home for it, we celebrated his birthday with a great night out at his favorite Italian restaurant.
We had a family day that included our favorite Indian restaurant.
We went and saw the Hobbit 2 in 3-D together.
We went out and sat around a table at Starbucks together one morning and talked about all the things we wanted to do as a family once we were all back together in Vegas.
I led worship at my friend Greg's church on Saturday night and Sunday.  I was so blessed to be able to lead my family in worship.  I haven't been able to do that since we've been separated.
We celebrated a quiet New Year's eve together at home with the kids.
And then it was time to leave.
It was harder this time.
The first time there was the thrill of the new adventure.  The first time there was also the complete lack of comprehension of how difficult this type of separation would be.
The second time there was the joy of being back together again and the hope that the process would somehow magically speed up for us.
This time the reality of how difficult our separation is was staring us both in the face.  This time we had no illusion about a quick resolution to our immigration.  We still hope, we still have faith, but we are also realists.  We can read a website.  We can see the case numbers still sitting in the "initial review" phase, where they have been for months now.
The drive to the airport on Friday morning was sombre.  Almost holy, in a way.
Being obedient to God's call on our lives, realizing that for us, this call means we are going to endure separation for a while longer.  Realizing we are in "holy time" and that we are in the middle of God's will for us, even though we don't understand it fully right now.
The thrill of this adventure is gone. We are now all on this long and difficult road that we must walk with patience and faith.

Three Things I Love

I love my church family.  Yesterday was a Sunday that reminded me again of how blessed I am to be part of South Hills Church in Henderson, Nevada.  My friend Sean Stepleton, lately of Canyon Ridge Christian Church, led worship for us and I was humbled and honored to teach after such an amazing time of worship.  Our church was as full as I have ever seen it and so many old and new friends were there.  As I stood amidst our congregation and listened to them give praise and worship to Jesus, as I was led into God's presence by our amazing worship team, as I stood in front of them to share God's Word, I felt like I was doing exactly what God created me to do, in the place He created me to do it.  I can't imagine leading a better church family.  Love you guys.

I love my family.  I miss them every day.  I can't wait to get on the plane tomorrow night after our last Christmas Eve service and fly home to spend 8 days with them.  My youngest son Braden is developing into an amazing musician.  My daughter Skye is writing a blog right now that fills my heart with love and with joy as I watch God work in her life.  My oldest son Kyle has become the man of the house in my absence.  He is working full time, doing an amazing job, knows what he wants to do in college and even at 19 still doesn't mind saying he loves his mom and dad.  I am blessed.  I also have the most amazing wife in the world.  After 22 years of marriage she still thinks I'm worth keeping around.  Being separated for the past four months has made me realize that God absolutely knew what He was doing when He put Jo and I together.  Love you all so much and can't wait to get you down here with me where we belong.

I love my Savior.  Not enough space in the world to say everything that could be said. Words can't describe the feeling of knowing that I am saved; that eternal life with Jesus is my future; that this world really is not my home; that I was created to feel like a gypsy until I reach my true home.  As I read Hebrews 11 to our church yesterday I was overwhelmed as I read "the world was not worthy of them...because God had planned something better for (all of) us..."  I love my Savior because He has something better planned for me.

I think that perhaps at Christmas time, more than any other season, I realize how important it is to spend this season with your church family, your real family, and your heavenly family.

Three things I love.  

Christmas Gypsy

From 1979 - 1983 I spent Christmas Eve in Hong Kong (we were missionaries).
From 1984 - 1986 I spent Christmas Eve in Singapore (we were still missionaries).
From 1987 - 1991 I spent Christmas Eve in Edmonton (I think, those years are a blur).
From 1991 - 1994 I spent Christmas Eve alternating between Edmonton and Vancouver (with my new wife).
From 1995 - 1996 I spent Christmas Eve in Toronto (at my first pastorate).
In 1997 I spent Christmas Eve in Michigan (in seminary).
In 1998 I spent Christmas Eve in Williams Lake (teaching school).
From 1999 - 2006 I spent Christmas Eve in Las Vegas (with one Christmas spent in LA with my brother and our family).
In 2007 I spent Christmas Eve in Williams Lake (visiting in-laws).
From 2008 - 2010 I spent Christmas Eve in Edmonton (while I did post graduate work).
From 2011 - 2012 I spent Christmas Eve in Kamloops (where I was a pastor).
This year I will spend Christmas Eve in an airport (as I travel from where I work to where my family lives so I can spend Christmas day with them).
It will be different.  8 hours in either Vancouver or Seattle airport (I can't remember which one I fly in to right now) will be a new experience.  There might be a Christmas tree up somewhere.  Probably a Starbucks, or seven (if it turns out to be Seattle).

I've spent Christmas in a few different places.  I've never really known the feeling of "coming home" for Christmas.  Home is wherever my wife and kids and I are currently living.  That is the reality of bing a gypsy and I embrace it.  In fact, I love it.  It helps me remember that I am a transient in this world and I am continually on a journey to my true home.  

My point is this.  Where you are celebrating isn't as important as what you are celebrating, or better yet, who you are celebrating.

Emmanuel, God with us, is as important in Hong Kong as it is in an airport.  Whether you are alone in a studio apartment or surrounded by a hundred family members in a mansion, Christmas is about so much more than Christmas carols, eggnog, family, presents, and lights.  Christmas is about the Light of the World who came down into the darkness of our situation to bring us hope.  To light the way home. We are not alone. Because of Emmanuel, we will never be alone.

Merry Christmas.  

The Gym

I love the gym and I hate the gym.
I love how I feel after I work out.
I hate how I feel when my alarm clock goes off every morning at 5:30.
I love to see my weights increase, my reps increase, my cardio increase.
I hate to see the muscle heads who are ten times my size.  Do they live in the gym?  Steroids?
I don't want to be a meat head, but I do fantasize about having arms like Patrick Willis.  Pretty sure I never will.
I'd love to be able to run like the wind forever, or as Jason Bourne says "at this altitude I can run flat out for 20 minutes before my hands start shaking."  I'd love to know how that feels.  Pretty sure I never will.

Ultimately, the gym is a distraction for me.
It is two hours every morning that I don't think about how far away from my family I am right now.
It is two hours in my day where I don't deal with the pressures of work.
It is two hours where I focus on staying healthy, mentally and physically.

So I put in my headphones, cue up the music, discover new bands that my kids keep telling me about, and get down to working out.  I try not to let the people around me become distractions and I tell myself with every rep or every mile "I love the gym."

Maybe one day I'll actually mean it.

Blue Christmas (oh shut up cry baby)

I am missing my family right now.  A lot.  It is the Christmas season and everywhere it is beginning to look a lot like....well, you get it.  Trees are going up; lights are being hung on houses; families are out Christmas shopping in the evenings with their Starbucks and their shopping bags.  At church we are singing Christmas carols.  And here I sit, alone.  I know it was my choice to be here, our family made the decision and it hasn't been easy to be apart, but I think right now, going into Christmas, it will be harder than it has been.
I am not the grinch.  I love Christmas.  I love family.  I love presents.  I love decorations and lights.  But right now, I am feeling not so Christmassy.  Is that a word?  Perhaps I need a snickers bar or something cause I don't really feel like my happy Christmas-loving self.  I feel a little bit blue.
My wife would no doubt ask me "Why so blue panda?"  It's part of an old snickers commercial.....oh never mind.  I'm wandering.  My point it this, I would very much like to be with my family at Christmas.
Every time I see some happy family walking down the mall hand in hand with love in their eyes and presents in the bags and kids skipping merrily along I feel like walking up to them and saying......(I probably shouldn't finish that sentence).
I probably shouldn't post this blog either.  
But seriously, it feels a little strange to be out shopping by myself at Christmas.  I don't know why it didn't feel weird in the past, when I would go out by myself to get something for Jo so she wouldn't know what it was.  Then I felt perfectly normal.  Right now, I feel rather pathetic.
I know it is just me.
Did I mention I also feel a little blue?
What is worse, I wonder how many families look at me as I walk by and give each other that sad "knowing" look as if to say "I'm so glad we have each other at Christmas and aren't like that loner that just walked by us."
Maybe they think I'm out buying presents for my wife and kids, which I am actually, it just feels strange not to run back to the car and try to hide the present(s) somewhere in the trunk and then go back and meet Jo for coffee at Starbucks (or Tim Horton's or Second Cup or David's Tea) and pretend like I didn't just buy a gift and it isn't hiding in the trunk.  But I like that stuff.
Maybe I'm just getting old and sentimental.  Wait, did somebody say senile?
Here is how sad it got this weekend.
I'm at the Fashion Show mall on the Strip.  They are playing Christmas music.  There is a fashion show going on.  Santa is hosting it.  There is an elf helping him out.  It seemed like they were doing stand-up around the models as they walked the catwalk.  The models were modeling really ugly christmas-themed clothes.  I mean really ugly.  It was perfect.  All Christmas time joy and happiness and ugly sweaters and Santa and I really didn't care.  I was annoyed that there were people standing five deep to watch the show and I had to squeeze through them and around them.
I kept asking myself "Why are all these people here to see Santa and an elf and some stupid ugly sweater thing and hear Christmas music?"
I know, I need professional help.
No wait, I need a snickers bar.
Actually, I just need my family.
Actually, I just need to man up, realize I do have a family that loves me, and that on Christmas Eve I will get on a plane at 9:50 p.m. right after our last Christmas Eve service, I will fly to Seattle, stay in the airport for six hours (no doubt trying unsuccessfully to sleep), get on another plane, and be home with them by 9 a.m. on Christmas morning.
I'm more than happy to wander around a deserted Seattle airport for six hours.  I'm more than happy to travel all night if it means I get to open presents with Jo and the kids on Christmas morning.
I might sleep the rest of the day, but hey, I'll be home...for Christmas...
Enough said.