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I was talking to my sister today.

Over the years she has cared for both my brother and my father as they were dying. 

I told her about a friend who was “almost dead”.  She laughed.  Not very often we are willing to say that someone is “almost dead” – “failing”, maybe, “deteriorating”, perhaps, “almost dead”, too blunt!  We then compared where that person’s life expectancy would be  on a scale of 1-10.   Nothing nice about a “1” which is way too close to being a zero!

We talked about how the hard part of dying for a patient is that visitors never want to talk about the dying.  We discuss other events, and even skirt around the issue of death with euphemisms (a great word for words that are supposed to soften the blow of hard issues).

Wouldn’t it be nice to cry with those who want to cry?  To hear about the worst part of the day when there are only days left?  To even fly away into a fantasy world when reality sucks?

So, if you are visiting someone who is close to the edge (a nice euphemism for being “almost dead”), talk about it.  They will appreciate you for it!

A variety of details combined to make this day memorable.

I was given the opportunity to accompany my wife to the eye doctor.  In our case, that means driving an hour down the road, over the border and into Oyen, Alberta. 

In the best of all worlds this was to have been a short trip – 3 1/2 hours at the most.  The reason for my being there was to drive her home – drops used in the testing of her eyes meant she was sensitive to light.

I must admit, I was a bit grumpy.  I had been tired on the way and even weaved a bit on the road.  Not good!

Then, the eye wear sales pitch was a bit strong.  While neither my wife or I wanted bold glasses, the fashion of the day (and the inclination of the salesclerk) were towards that end.  We held our ground and left 3/4 of a thousand dollars cheaper (for eye wear and examination).

The road home went well until we heard a beep.  And another.  And the heat gauge plummeted to the top.  After four or five attempts, turning off the car, driving slowly, watching the gauge, turning off the car and repeating once again, the Flaxcombe hill arrived.  We coasted down to the bottom and glided in to the only gas station for miles around.

After putting in some antifreeze, we sat down for a cinnamon bun (great – baked that morning!).  After a few minutes, and another examination of the engine, we headed up the other side of the Flaxcombe hill.  At the top the gauge started to rise.

I turned the car off and coasted until we were slowly crawling along.  By popping the clutch we started once again and the temperature gauge remained steady at a reasonable heat. 

O, I forgot to mention that we removed the cardboard in front of the radiator when we got down the Flaxcombe hill.  My guess is that this solved our overheating problem. 

As we drove into town, I asked to be dropped off at our local heritage manor where a friend is fighting cancer.  His pain patches have been increased, his sibling is trying to be brave but his composure belied his concern.  I weep as I walk home.

As I returned home, I realized that life is seldom what we expect.  But it is what God plans.

Many of you are discovering (have discovered, will discover) those ubiquitous internet sites that people talk about in passing.

“Did you see that on Youtube?”

“Facebook me when you get home.”

And on the conversations go.  The age of electronica has even changed exercises.  Yesterday our youth played crokinole with some seniors (check out Wikipedia for a definition of crokinole – another one of those ubiquitous sites!).  The seniors prepared with wrist exercises.  The youth prepared by sending text messages!

So, on Facebook my nephew writes my sister-in-law about a Youtube experience.  Having been a Pastor of Worship and Music, my funny bone was wiggling and jiggling!

Sitting in a meeting today, I was helping to create a missions statement. 

The first attempt was quite simple.  Three straight forward words surrounded by a slight bit of elaboration.  Probably less than twenty words.

Then we tried to add some goals and objectives.  As we did so, I got rather verbose, creating adjectives piled on top of nouns needing active verbs.  After two or three of these objectives, we began to spin our wheels, going in circles and all those other cliches. 

One of the committee was asked what he thought of the latest objective.  His statement?  “No comment.” 

Which was  a good comment. 

So we went back to the original statement.  Eradicated the other thoughts.  And left it at that.

Thankfully, it all made sense and someone will easily read and understand what we are about.   That’s the joy of clarity!