Bridge to Terabithia

The movie is great, too (see below post for comments about the book). It's stylish, honest, emotional, funny, and imaginative. I loved it especially because I work with students who are the age of the main characters, but I think it would be enjoyable for everyone - young and old - who love beautiful film.

My favourite part:

The kids are riding back from church in the box of a pick-up truck; beautiful scenery is whisking past them on a sunny day. Jesse (the main boy character), May Belle (his bratty little sister), and and Leslie (Jesse's new BFF who is a girl who runs faster than all the boys) get talking about the Bible. Leslie is a kid who hasn't spent any time in church or had much interaction with the Jesus story. May Belle tells Leslie that if she doesn't believe in the Bible then she'll be damned to hell. Leslie looks around, wide-eyed and beautiful, opens up her arms to the world and replies: "I think God is too busy making all of this to damn people to hell."

Other favourite part:

"Free the pee! Free the pee! Free the pee!"

Bridges

Yesterday I finished reading Bridge to Terabithia; today I'm going to see the movie with some of my students. I forgot how enjoyable it is to read children's literature. I always find myself wondering, "How would I be different if I would have read this book when I was young?" And though I'm not a child anymore, I still find this story expanding and taking up room in the places of my memory and in my hope for humanity.

Out of Body into Music Heaven

On Monday my good friend Lisa and I went to Seattle for a little shopping, a little visiting, and a little road tripping. Our primary destination was the Patty Griffin concert. When we were leaving the concert Lisa turned and asked me, "Are you in a state of bliss?" I replied, "I'm so sad it's over." If you don't know Patty, it's time you meet her.

Rain Gear

I've lived in Vancouver for 3 years now. Yesterday I purchased a real umbrella. You know the type: it's got a curved handle, could double as a walking stick and a weapon (which may in fact come in handy when I'm strolling through these East Van streets at night), and it won't flip inside out with the slightest breeze. This purchase and the simple joy it brings me has got me thinking . . . Is Vancouver me? Am I Vancouver? Though I still find that these gorgeous mountains get in the way of my view of the sky (O! Land of Living Skies), I do believe that this wet climate and this sea side living is seeping into my soul.

I wonder if Josh Ritter might want to marry me

Tonight as I drove home from work along Kingsway I relived the Josh Ritter concert I went to last week with my friends Chris and Sarah. I played "Monster Ballads", track 3 on The Animal Years, over and over again and again. There's something about "Monster ballads in the stations of the cross / Sighing just a little bit" that catches in my imagination. And I got thinking: JR and I would make one fine couple. He could sing his poetry to to me and we'd read books together. And that, friends, is all the romance I'd need.

Some thoughts about the work I do

Last weekend's Vibrant Girls' Retreat.


Last weekend's Tough Enough Guys' Retreat.



I work with students. Preteens, in fact. And these students . . . they're maniacs. But after all the mayhem, at the end of a Friday small group night, I still have huge love in my heart for them. I see that in the little moments big things can happen. Moments like these.

Tonight I sat around a booth with grade 6 girls and we built a city of Play Doh. It had a downtown core, a bit of suburban sprawl, and a beautiful royal blue river around it. While I breathed in a smell of my childhood I hoped these girls would remember that it's good to play, to create, and to welcome others into a circle.

On the other side of the behavior spectrum, later in my youth night, I busted a bunch of grade 7 boys having a shoe fight (perhaps it was more like a life-flashing-before-one's-eyes war) in one of the classrooms. I could tell by the skid marks ON THE WALL, the hole in the drywall, and the smell that punched me in the face when I opened the door that they had been at for quite a while.

Upon getting busted by "Pastor Bobbi" there was an instant hush, but still a lot of snickering. I flashed them the "Bobbi's TICKED" look and after about 5 minutes of cleaning up the chairs which they had turned into protective barricades I explained to them this: the walls of this church didn't just appear; people give of their money so that we can have a church; when we can't stop our fun to realize that we're ruining things that aren't ours (and dare I say God's?) something has gone really wrong.

And you know, I think some of them got that. Without my nudging they went about looking for a way to get the scuff marks off the wall. And even though it didn't work, they left youth tonight with a few bowed heads and even some genuine apologies. I think that this moment too - in it's destruction and annoyance - was redeemed. For a moment these guys had to stop and consider something beyond themselves.

I'm resting tonight (once I finally wind down) knowing that these gloriously simple, and even a bit trying, moments were sparkling with the sacred.

On Beauty and a Case of the Uglies

A couple of weeks ago I finished reading a Zadie Smith book: On Beauty. It was a delicious read that was not afraid to portray the dark side of beauty and the tendency people have to be seduced by the side of beauty that destroys. Real beauty - the kind that lasts and gives life - can be lost in the glaring light of what captures our attraction on a trivial level. Laying claim on that deeper beauty can take a hell of a lot of work once one has been content to play in the shallow waters of trivial beauty.

Last night my friend and I went to a cd release party here in Vancouver. As we walked back through the empty streets we talked about attraction, art, the search for peace, and annoying disco balls that leave a person's eyes hoping to be soothed by darkness. When two people spend some time talking about attraction the question inevitably comes to this biggie: what do you think is attractive? This question always stumps me, but it's not always for noble reasons. I'm afraid that I lose touch with my own beauty and in that, I lose touch with the beauty in others because I've traded in a deeper version of myself for a version that cares more about how my overbite leaps out of my profile or how my hair just doesn't have the same lift as it did a few days ago.

I'm home sick today and my puffy eyes are searching out beauty. The sky outside is layered in lumpy clouds of grey and it's beautiful. The new Patty Griffin cd playing (for the 4th time today) is pull-emotions-to-the-top-of-the-skin beautiful. The lingering smell of curry left after dinner with my friend last night is beautiful. My hands around a hot cup of tea are beautiful. The scruffy homeless man who shoved a bag of M & M's into his pocket early this week at the Skytrain station is beautiful. I believe that this beauty leads me to the One who made all of this. And though I have a heck of a time with faith some days, today I'm leaning into this beauty and hoping God will give me eyes to see and ears to hear . . . what's that? That I am beautiful and all of this is beautiful.

Things I Like: #8

I think I'm falling in love with Todd Snider.

He's a singer-songwriter found under the categories of Americana/alt-country/folk. His storytelling songs are full of sharp honesty and raw humour. Sometimes it's the kind of humour where I find myself thinking "I can't believe he just said that!"; it's wonderfully frank. His latest album - The Devil You Know - is found on many "Best of 2006" lists. I like lists like this because I always find some new friends there as another year rolls in.

Take a listen here or here.

Things I Like: #7

I like POTATOES.

Yummy, lovely potatoes.

I found this recipe in my gmail "sponsored link". I made them tonight and they were tasty.

Black Pepper and Lime Oven Fries

1 1/2 pounds small potatoes, cut into wedges
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
sea salt
freshly ground pepper
1 lime
1/3 cup Parmesan cheese, grated

Preheat oven to 375, oven racks in the middle.

In a medium bowl toss the potato wedges with the olive oil, a few big pinches of sea salt and five or six cranks of the pepper grinder. Arrange the potatoes cut side down on a baking sheet. Place in the oven for 30-35 minutes, tossing the potatoes with a metal spatula half way through.

While the potatoes are baking, zest the lime and cut it into a few wedges.

When the potatoes are cooked through, remove them from the oven, taste, and adjust the seasoning. Add more salt and pepper to taste (don't skimp on the pepper!). Serve in a big shallow bowl, or on a platter, drizzled with lime juice and dusted with the lime zest and Parmesan.

Things I Like: #6

I like Johnny Cash.


I have blips of Johnny Cash music in my childhood memories. Yesterday I was listening to JC as the rain fell outside. The images cast in my imagination from the song "Man in Black" followed me around all evening and into today:

Man in Black
By Johnny Cash

Well, you wonder why I always dress in black,
Why you never see bright colors on my back,
And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone.
Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on.

I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down,
Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town,
I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime,
But is there because he's a victim of the times.

I wear the black for those who never read,
Or listened to the words that Jesus said,
About the road to happiness through love and charity,
Why, you'd think He's talking straight to you and me.

Well, we're doin' mighty fine, I do suppose,
In our streak of lightnin' cars and fancy clothes,
But just so we're reminded of the ones who are held back,
Up front there ought 'a be a Man In Black.

I wear it for the sick and lonely old,
For the reckless ones whose bad trip left them cold,
I wear the black in mournin' for the lives that could have been,
Each week we lose a hundred fine young men.

And, I wear it for the thousands who have died,
Believen' that the Lord was on their side,
I wear it for another hundred thousand who have died,
Believen' that we all were on their side.

Well, there's things that never will be right I know,
And things need changin' everywhere you go,
But 'til we start to make a move to make a few things right,
You'll never see me wear a suit of white.

Ah, I'd love to wear a rainbow every day,
And tell the world that everything's OK,
But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my back,
'Till things are brighter, I'm the Man In Black

Be refreshed by JC's honest tunes and creative storytelling in music here.

Things I like: #5

I like a London Fog on a damp winter's night.

Things I Like: #4

GEORGE STROUMBOULOPOULOS. I didn't dig George at first, but I now think The Hour is one of the greatest ways to end the day.

Things I Like: #3

Jian Ghomeshi is coming back to CBC Radio 1 with an afternoon arts show. Ooooooo! I can hardly wait. I love him.

Things I Like: #2

FRIENDS who sense what is going on inside after only a few sentences are spoken.

Things I Like: #1

I like to take long walks on cold days.

These are the people in my family

Edmonton Christmas vacation/Glenn and Linda Salkeld family reunion

I've been listening to the same cd for the last 5 hours

While in Edmonton last week for the holidays my sister and I tracked down the new Ray LaMontagne cd Till the Sun Turns Black. I've been listening to it over and over again today while finishing up a really good book. There's a concert linked from his website to the NPR site and now I'm pretending like I'm there. You should try it if this NPR article description appeals to you:

Singer, songwriter and guitarist Ray LaMontagne makes mellow, sometimes dark, poetry songs that are part folk, part soul, with warmly textured atmospherics.

If it weren’t for cigarettes I think I'd be a smoker

A few years ago my friend was visiting from out of town. At some point in our conversation she told me why she started smoking in university. She explained that she needed to escape the snooty students in her program and she found real camaraderie in the smoker circle.

I wish churches had smoker circles. I think I'd hang out there.

Smokers: I watched them one day a few weeks back. I was traveling on a four stop red eye flight to Cincinnati. As I waited for one of my flights I watched as smokers gathered in the designated smoking rooms. I sat alone in the clean air waiting for my flight to board. The smoker filed into the brownish fog, sat down, lit up, took the first drag and soon after started into conversation with a smoker stranger.

I'm craving some smoker community. The kind where I can sit down, not be so concerned about how together I am (or am not), and where just as simply as breathing I invite others to do the same.

Props

Sometimes you really don't know what the outcome will be. This is especially true in youth ministry.

I'm a planner. I like to make plans. I like to imagine my plans playing out and sit back later and reflect, "Indeed, those were fine plans."

The students I work with remind me that no matter how I envision an experience, it's likely, in actuality, to be absolutely nothing like what I imagined.

Tonight at youth I gave the FUSE groups (small groups) chunks of the Luke 1-2 passage from The Message to creatively communicate to the rest of the group. Off they went to be creative and strengthen the bonds of relational ministry. They seemed excited; I anticipated success.

The first group up was one of the guys' groups. They began with some strange drug reference (Where the heck did they get that???? Not to mention that they are in GRADE 7!). Next came the oranges. One of the fellas put two Mandarin oranges up to his scrawny frame. He was playing the part of Elizabeth (Zechariah's wife and mother of John the Baptist) and those fine oranges became boobs.

Wait! Those were not my plans! Though, I had to give the buddy some credit for keeping it real and being true to the not-so-G-rated way of the Bible. And still, there's more.

One of the students yelled out from the audience, "Hey, those are too low!"

Mr. Oranges-for-boobs declared, "No they're not. I'm old."