Same same?

It's been plaguing me for weeks now, and I'm curious to see if anyone agrees with me: is there something about Mr. Andrew Gazaneo that is reminiscent of Gromit?

Trust.

Preach it, C.S. Lewis:

"There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket-safe, dark, motionless, airless-it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell."

True North, Strong and Free

I live in a hotel.

This hotel specializes in immigrating families who are awaiting citizenship and can't rent apartments - the furnished room, phone connection, and monthly/weekly/daily payment flexibility are also helpful.

I walked into the elevator yesterday and a mom with her two small girls walked in with me. They looked to be from an Arabic country. While discussing the pink monkey that one of the girls was holding, she smiled at me and asked,

"Is Canada your new home too?"

I said that, no, it wasn't. It made me think of how many months the girl had been told, in her native language, that they were moving to a "new home". A country called "Canada". In her imagination she might have pictured igloos and snow and forests and it showed in her wide smile and big eyes.

Canada. Her new home. My old home. It's a good home.

Thaw

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
- Anne Bradstreet

Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.
- Doug Larson

If there comes a little thaw,
Still the air is chill and raw.
Here and there a patch of snow,
Dirtier than the ground below,
Dribbles down a marshy flood;
Ankle-deep you stick in mud
In the meadows while you sing,
"This is Spring."
- Christopher Pearce Cranch

Detox

Someone was recently explaining the intricacies of colon cleansing (whilst pointing out that Brits pronounce it "cole-on") to me, over dinner, but thankfully before the food arrived at the table.

Today's theme has been detox. Doctors will warn that the detox process comes with unpleasant side effects. Some of which include:

• A headache
• More, or smellier, sweat
• Fatigue
• Feeling unusual emotions
• A dry mouth
• Spots, pimples or rashes
• Constipation

The caution comes with a promise that "these side effects show you are getting rid of toxins" but, really, when you're stinky, sweaty, emotional, dehydrated, ugly, constipated and suffering from a headache do you really have the time and/or patience to think, "Good thing I'm getting rid of harmful toxins..." Instead, don't we just long for the toxins to stay; to avoid the obnoxious withdraw symptoms?

So here's the question: when we decide to break bad habits, start living counter to what we've been used to, and making decisions that benefit us long term instead of diving into short term pleasures, why do we expect the result instantly? In one article, detox was defined as giving "a sense of going back to basics", or back to the way nature intended...and yet, our bodies revolt.

Why does simplicity sometimes seem so foreign?

The Promise

I'm not sure if I'm alone on this one, but I absolutely love these Chinese/Hollywood fusion movies (like House of Flying Daggers, Hero, and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon). I remember after watching Hero in the theater, I felt as if I had just been to an art gallery. I know they're unrealistic and hokey and overdramatic but...so am I, sometimes.

Here's the trailer for The Promise.

Téte â Téte

"Jesus rarely comes where we expect Him; He appears where we least expect Him, and always in the most illogical connections...It is not service that matters, but intense spiritual reality, expecting Jesus Christ at every turn."
- Oswald Chambers

My mother is a conspiracy theorist. While other kids grew up with motherly advice such as "Don't let the bed bugs bite." we Hunter kids grew up with "Remember, this life is just a holodeck." Although it used to trip me out, I realize now that she's been right all along.

What is real?

Some days I really get it. Some days I look at the world, at interactions I have, incidents I experience, connections I make as all part of a wonderful, living, breathing relationship with the Ultimate Creator of the Universe. And some days I don't. Some days I allow Jesus to surprise, romance, teach, and lead me and other days I sense that he's doing the tap-dancing-Jesus-routine (mental image courtesy of Nikolas Delic, circa 2002) in an attempt to get my attention.

I wonder if I'll ever reach a stage of such dependancy on Jesus that I'll always get it. I wonder if life is a series of days where we are made aware of him, turning into weeks, months, years at a time, until we get to see him forever.

"Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully even as I am fully known."
(I Corinthians 13:12)