Christmas time again!

I think I'm a real Scrooge when it comes to Christmas. Here we are less than two weeks away from Christmas and I haven't even started my Christmas shopping. Well, that is not totally true... I bought a ice scraper for my Wife's new truck. But it is a heated one with the logo of her favorite hockey team on it.

Now you might think that is a tacky-type thing to buy. But when you live in Northern Ontario, Canada, a heated ice scraper is a very thoughtful and useful gift to have; along with a shovel, a bag of salt and a bag of kitty litter or sand and traction grips to help you get out of snowbanks and stuff.

For several years my wife and I have had running debates on what are and are not acceptable Christmas gifts. My wife wants to buy a little something for everyone in the family even though they don't reciprocate. I, on the other hand, feel no guilt not spending money on someone who could not do so for me. I stopped buying my mother-out-er... in-law presents the year she presented us with a microwave potato chip maker. A lot of thought went into that puppy.

My wife wants to prowl every store looking for something. Sometimes she has to prowl several times. I prefer to go to the checkout and stock up on gift cards.My wife considers that the height of tackiness. My argument is why spend all that time picking out a gift for someone who doesn't like it and has to lie to you when you can give them something with which they can go out and get what they want? Makes sense to me.

For a few years, I thought the ideal gift was to bake and make a bunch of Christmas goodies for people. Everyone likes food and eating at Christmas time is a national sport. My wife thinks that is tacky and cheap, although I spend almost as much on supplies as I would on gifts not to mention my time, effort and sweat, which I'm sure dropped into the cookie dough, was a very thoughtful and considerate gift. I still think that is a very thoughtful gift, I would certainly appreciate a tray of goodies.

An extension of that are those gift baskets filled with specialty food items that you can only find in gift baskets at Christmas time. Everyone has to eat; right? Apparently that is another tacky gift. No, I explained to my wife, a tacky gift is to give a fruit cake to someone.

People ask me what I'd like for Christmas. I say, "Cash works for me!"

So, while I have become jaded with the crass commercialism that has become associated with the season, it is important to remember the one reason we celebrate.

That one night, a small baby, born in a stable, reached out his tiny hands and found a cross on which to bear the sins of the world.

Have a blessed Christmas!

My, How Time Flies.

well there are two goals reached this week:

The first is I am over the hump for National Novel Writing Month (nanowrimo). I sailed over the halfway point only a day late. It's all downhill from here.

Well, not really, but getting to that point was a good feeling to say the least.

While in the midst of my personal journey through thirty days and nights of literary abandon, the proofs arrived for my newest book: Xtreme Xianity. It is so tempting to get off the nano roller coaster and start the editing of this book. I must admit, I did sit down with it and pulled out my red pen and went at it for a few pages.

As I was holding this book in my hands and fondly fondled the cover, I had to stop and think for a minute or two. I opened the inside page where I had all the notification stuff listed; copyright notice, no permission, ISBN and all that housekeeping stuff. There was also a list of my published works.

This book, when I finally give it that last bit of spit and polish and send it out into the world will mark my tenth book since I first published in 2006.

Wow... 10 books. That's a lot of words. I'm sure it calls for a celebration of some kind. But what does one do to mark this auspicious occasion? Do I set up a circuit of interviews with broadcasters? Nope. Do I sing happy anniversary or happy birthday? That doesn't sound quite right either. How about standing downtown yelling at the top of my lungs? Well, that will probably at the very least get me a ticket for disturbing the peace.

Perhaps after the rush of Nanowrimo has worn off, then I can sit back and further ponder about this particular milestone. Time flies when you're having fun.

The Month of Nines

I recently heard a story about the old pastor of the church I grew up in.

His Name was Albert V. Clock. I knew him as Dr. Clock. He had earned a Doctor of Theology degree from Dallas Theological Seminary and had come to Northern Ontario to start a Bible College in our very rural community of Goulais River.

I was speaking with a man named Rod. Rod had at one time owned a furniture store in town and Dr. Clock would sometimes drop in to say hello. Rod said that one day they were talking about how God works and was told this following story.

For the sake of brevity, I am going to shorten it up a bit.

"Rod," said Dr. Clock. "I build churches. I go out to the plot of land and lay out the spot for the building and start digging the foundations."

"People would come by and ask what I was doing. I would tell them I was building a church. They would say, "Are you crazy? You don't have the money to build a church."

"I would reply, "The Lord wants me to build a church. If He wants me to stop, then the money will stop coming in.""

Then he said to Rod, "You know, I always had something to do on that building. The money would keep on coming until the church was built, then it would stop."

Now what does this mean to a nine-year old boy? Absolutely nothing.

I was nine-years old when I first met Dr. Clock. It was during Vacation Bible School at the newly formed Northland Bible College campus, which consisted of 70 acres of land, a farm house, a small cabin, a barn and a few utility sheds. There was a hole in the ground where the foundations were being laid for a building that would serve both the college and the new church family that was now meeting in the farm house kitchen.

Dr. Clock stood in the middle of a circle of fidgety children with a smile on his face as he welcomed us that first morning. He was dressed in jeans, plaid shirt and a beat up old straw hat. He called us Mohicans (whatever that was) and we sang John 3:16. Our classroom was in the hay loft in the barn.

Now to a nine year old boy, VBS was something else. We went on hikes, had horseback rides, a hayride, and a treasure hunt on the last day that had us running over half the property.

We heard the Bible stories, memorized Scripture, and were encouraged to bring friends for the contest. At the end of the week, we went home with the wooden matchstick cross we made in craft, a workbook that we had done during the week and an invitation to come to something called Sunday School.

Our Sunday school class was held in the barn until it got too cold and then we spent the winter at one of the member's houses. The chapel building was ready for use the next spring and we moved into it for our Sunday meetings.

It was during the fall in the back corner classroom that my life changed forever. It was there during my Sunday school class that I gave my life to Christ.

What makes the story more poignant is Northland Bible Chapel was the last church Dr. Clock built. During the week it served as the campus for Northland Bible College and on weekends, it was home to the chapel family.

Dr. Clock, led by his commitment to provide quality Bible training, not only to young people to make them able ministers, he also built one last church were he spent the remainder of his life ministering at.

The questioned I asked myself and I am asking you today is this: What is your level of commitment to what you believe?

To a nine-year old boy, that commitment caused a life-changing experience. How many nine-year olds will say the same of you?

Those Aha Moments.

I never really understood the phrase "amber waves of grain." from America the Beautiful until I moved to the Alberta, Canada and lived on the Prairies. I grew up along the north-eastern shores of Lake Superior at the edge of the Canadian Shield where large scale farming was not an industry.

I moved to Alberta to pursue my chosen profession; journalism. I was driving to cover an assignment one fine fall day and I noticed a wheat field along the road. Well several actually. Acres of golden wheat, gently undulating waves as they were caressed by a fall breeze. I thought, "Gee, that looks just like the waves on Lake Superior..."

Aha... Now I understand.

As I am writing this blog entry I am preparing to celebrate our Thanksgiving. Yup, today is Canadian Turkey Day. A day when we recount our blessings and are thankful for what God has provided for us for the coming year.

We will be sitting down to our traditional turkey dinner. The meal consists of traditional family dishes that bring back a harvest of memories. The tomato aspic will remind me of Nanny Hagen. She had to have that at every holiday meal. along with the mashed potatoes and gravy we will have perogies and cabbage rolls, part of my Ukrainian heritage through my father's side. My son will eat his fill of these two dishes as well as steal as much raw dressing as he can get his hands on before I put it into the turkey and the oven.

The pies are already in the oven. Pumpkin, which is dad's favorite. My daughter Kim will have a slice of homemade chocolate pie. For my wife cherry or pumpkin will do.

This thanksgiving is also a bittersweet one. Dad has Alzheimer's disease. He probably won't remember how good the turkey was or that he even had a piece of his favorite pie 10 minutes after he has finished eating it. Every day my family loses a little bit more of him as this disease slowly erases who he was.

So I harvest my memories of how he used to be. How he could fix almost anything. Him pushing me on a log across the Agawa River on a cub scout camping trip when I was ten. Us sitting in a boat for hours, trolling along the eastern shore of Lake Seymo, attempting to entice the trout. to bite on our lures.

Bouncing around in his bush buggy made from old Volkswagons as he took it places no respectful 4x4 or ATV would dare to traverse. The bush tea he would make using a juice can he modified into a kettle when we came ashore for lunch.

Then there was roofing the house, climbing down a well to dig it deeper because the water level dropped. There was working with him when he went to wire a house. Working on cars in the garage or arguing over politics.

I find that I am selective about my harvest. Not all the memories are good ones. But then life is not all fun and sunshine.

But as gather with my family this year, we plant more memories for furture harvests. This year was the warmest Thanksgiving in my memory. So we decide to have a Thanksgiving picnic. Mixed blessings; a rich harvest.

Another Aha moment.

yahoo.. only 2 more chapters to go.

I was sharing with my writing friends that I have to get back to my wip (work in progress). I've been working on it for most of this year in an off/on fashion. I really am not in a hurry as I have already met my writing goals for this year.

However, my book has other plans. As I get closer to the the final chapter, i find myself becoming more and more obsessed with it. Where once I could put it on the shelf for a month or two, I now find myself racing to the computer to finish it.

I barely finished the last chapter when I am outlining the next one. good thing for me; I write Bible study guides, so there is a pattern to creating the outline.

Also in my head is nanowrimo... now only 29:7:13:1 (days:hours:minutes:seconds) according to the official countdown clock. those characters have been telling tantalizing bits and pieces of their stories.

By the way... choir practice starts tonight for our Christmas cantata. November is going to be an interesting month. And October is barely started.

Seeing the Finish Line and Starting a New Race...

Usually in the middle of the old one.

I have a couple of projects on the go at any one time. Thinking up ideas for new books while researching others and writing another one. I one time thought I should only work on one thing at a time, but soon found that was impossible. I come up with ideas in the strangest places.

Like Church for instance. My current WIP (work in progress) started out as an idea when I was watching an extreme moto cross event. I started to wonder what it would take for a Christian to be that sold out to God. Xtreme Xianity was born.

So what does that have to do with Church? I was listening to a sermon that had nothing to do with this idea when i suddenly had the outline for this book in my head. I wrote it down, mainly because I've come to realize that my mind will also forget about it until I am in the middle of something else.

This book looks at the lives of biblical characters and what it was about them, their attitude, faith and actions that made them extreme followers of God. I hesitate to say Christian because some of these people are Old Testament people.

It has been a remarkable journey writing this book. There are the obvious ones, like Abraham and faith, Paul and commitment, or David and attitude. But there are ones that most of us would never consider.

People like Anna and Simeon. Only mentioned in Luke, but a shining example to us of their devotion. Consider the unconditional love of Hosea or the perseverance of Jeremiah. We often associate patience with Job, but when you examine his life, it is his hope that stands out.

So in the midst of writing this book, I am editing my first novel, Free and putting the finishing touches to The Bible School Dropout's Guide to Dispensationalism, which I'm sure will be a best seller...

While I am doing this I get this idea: Do I have enough of the summaries and charts I designed during the past few years to create a book of just these charts for designer Bible studies. The Bible School Dropout's Book of Charts was born.

During this time, I received some questions about a failed family calendar that was suppose to be completed the year before. The person who was responsible for putting it together bailed and I ended up with a family tree project. So I released four titles while still working on Xtreme Xianity. Not to mention my study guide for Genesis 1-11, now working on chapter five.

So now i am almost done the draft for Xtreme just in time to get ready for Nanowrimo... National Novel Writing Month - only 41 days away. There is still the study guide for Genesis 1-11 and the next project on the horizon after that...

ah the writing life.. and i still have my day job.

Coming Home

Oops. my bad....

I offer my sincere apologies to the blog-chain members of Christian Writers. I was unplugged for the weekend and it occurred to me I was suppose to do something. That something was participating in September's chain and my day was Labor Day, September 5.

"Let me see that baby!" were the first words my wife and I heard as we came home for the first time with our daughter. She was a bright and gurgly six-month old and we were arriving home for her first Christmas with the family.

It wasn't fun traveling at Christmas time with a family in tow. It was 40 below. We had lots of luggage and a baby to check through and carry on. There was a delay while the plane was de-iced. That made us late for our connecting flight to Sault Ste. Marie. The airline was ice enough to hold the flight long enough for use to get on.

It was quite interesting racing through the airport 20 some odd gates to get to our plane. It had already been boarded and the attendant was waiting for us. She grabbed some of our stuff and escorted us out to the plane. It wasn't a nice comfortable jet, but a turbo prop that carried about 30 passengers.

Well, almost all of us got on. Our luggage didn't make it until the next day.

We came through the gates and before we could say anything, my parents had ripped baby Kimberly out of our arms and were awing and oohing over her. It was only after a few minutes had passed that they realized we were there too.

Well, Christmas came off well, We collected our luggage. Two sets of grandparents spoiled our daughter. Two Christmas dinners to chow down on. And the discovery our family would soon grow again. A bet that earned me a chinese dinner.

It was at that point we started to discuss the idea of moving back home. When there was just the two of us it was more important to be together, to get our careers off the ground, make our place together. But with children to consider, we had to weigh that against what would be best for our family. We decided thqt it was more important for our children to get to know their roots. Shortly after our visit home we decided to move back.

In our Christian walk, It also important have a place we call home. A local Assembly where we can grow and exercise our gifts. A place where we can fellowship and worship with like minded people. A place to put down roots. A place to come home to.

You can follow the chain by clicking on the link to the right. The next couple of bloggers are;

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9/8: Michele Archer, http://mlarcher.webs.com/apps/blog/" target="_blank">M. L. Archer Writer

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9/9: Brian Jones, http://andeluvia.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Andeluvia