Something on my Mind: Confessions of a Saint

I doubt very much that you have heard of St. Craig, but if you have, don't worship him. I, er, he doesn't exist.

If I ever used the title "Saint" ( or St.), it would only be as a joke. The term I use a lot, "M'Lord," but all I ever got was laughs, which is the intention.

There are Saints and then there are saints and then, saints. The Saints is a name of an NFL team from New Orleans. Nice name, bad label. There are a smattering of other non-professional teams scattered throughout the land, usually of the high school or junior hockey flavour.

Then there are the saints of a religious order, as in St. Augustine or St. Agnes. There are many towns, schools, and roadways scattered around Alberta bearing those names and others. These have usually come about because the early settlers and missionaries were of the Catholic persuasion.

Speaking of "religious persuasion," with as much respect as possible, there is some misunderstanding as to who, what, when, how, and why a person is a saint. The following will fly in the face of religious tradition and conventional knowledge of sainthood.

And this is where I finally tie in my "confession" of a saint.

I am not a saint for a number of reasons. One, I am living and I don't know of any religious saint who is living. To be a saint, in that tradition, one must have been dead for a long time. Two, I see no precedent of a canonized saint in Scripture (saint, yes; Saint, no). And three, "saint" is applied accurately to any living follower of Jesus Christ, and not limited to dead ones.

So at any given time, if you were so inclined, you could say the following about me: "He's such a saint." That may or may not be true, but we all would know what you mean. But you shouldn't say the following about me: "That St. Craig is such a wonderful dude" (Is "dude" still in vogue?).

I may be a saint, but certainly not a Saint.

If "saint(s)" and "sainthood" are based on the Scripture, now augmented by tradition, it's best we reference the Good Book for what a saint is and isn't, to see if any of us measure up. Few of us would; most of us will think of our dear mothers (but not fathers, for some reason) as a saint, but that could be more on sentiment than anything else.

Sentiment aside, a true saint is one who is holy and set apart, usually in a practical everyday sense. Don't be picturing those 15^th Century paintings in which the so-called saints have that pious glaze, wearing those stained halos, sitting around with other saints doing the same thing.

Sainthood has been invested by God, and God alone, and I confess—there's that word again—I rarely measure up. Maybe you do, but this column is not your confessional! I rarely exhibit those virtues of patience, love, grace, etc. (marks of a true saint) in the cauldron of everyday life.

Being a true saint is one who is not caught up (yet "dragged down" at the same time) with secular values and habits. Being a true saint is one who lives in view of a better place beyond the grave. Being a true saint exhibits the virtues of the only true Saint (not the team, thankfully) Who ever lived on earth.

So my confession, then, is that I don't always exhibit those virtues. I don't always live up to the title. But it's not about perfection. Rather, it's about character and a standing before Almighty God.

Even playing for the Saints wouldn't help.

Something on my Mind: Confessions of a Dad

It's only a few weeks before we "celebrate" Father's Day. I may to be jumping the gun by coming up with a dad-themed column. It's actually part of this mini-series of "Confessions."

So far, I have made some admissions about being a writer, teacher, saint, and now father. I have a couple more up my sleeve, but we'll see if I write them.

Most dads I know feel very inadequate for fatherhood. Most of us are quick—likely too quick—to admit our shortcomings and failures (and too often "helped" by others to feel that way). The strident voices of the warped media, academia, and feminists don't help.

As if fathering isn't tough enough, I find it tragic beyond civil words that we get stomped on because of our skin colour and gender (with "white male" becoming such a vile standing in life). If the skin colour was reversed, there would be no end of the hue and cry.

My comments today are directed primarily at dads, but moms and potential dads can read along if they want to.

I know that I have failed multiple times as a father—and that would be only before breakfast. Some of my kids would likely tell you that in a heartbeat, if asked. Owing to the fact that I pass through this journey once, it's impossible to back up and do it again. One just hopes that as the kids grow up and mature, there's room in their heart and conscience to forgive and move on.

Sort of like me with my dad.

Now I am not speaking of physical, sexual, or mental abuse, nor am I sugarcoating it in other homes. That must be dealt with thoroughly, either through accountability groups, the law, and even the church. I just don't believe I have ever been guilty of those evils.

My failure as a dad has been of the short temper, the non-listening, and the general disconnection variety. Perhaps you are guilty of the same? As an example, my own dad was guilty of that, though he had other complicating factors, as he was a product of his generation. They did things differently back in the '40s and '50s.

I know I mentioned this line before, but it bears repeating: Any one can be a "verb" father, but it takes some serious effort at being a "noun" father. Re-stated: males are created to father a child, but it takes a lot more work to be a father to a child.

If I could do it over again, which is impossible, I would do some things differently. Here are four to consider:

1. Create more meaningful family time. I did a lot of that, via trips, traditions, and special nights, but I see now that it wasn't enough. And part of that "meaningful family time" is to block out many outside-the-home demands.  Some of us Type A personalities often take on more and more responsibilities outside the home at the expense of family. Not a wise move at all.

2. Take time to listen more and speak less. That could be one reason why our Designer gave us two ears and one mouth, not the other way around. I know I would have benefited from that as I was growing up. That's not a shot at my own father, by the way. As I said before, he was the product of his generation.  And he didn't have the privilege of reading a county-famous columnist...

3. Get to know each of your kids individually. That sounds bizarre on the surface, but I am not writing this one on the surface. Each child you help bring into the world is an individual, and must be treated as such. This takes time and effort on your part, but it is part of your duty.

4. Let them know you love them. That could be expressed in all sorts of ways, but really needs to be done and said. Even a simple touch once in a while works wonders.

It strikes me that if more dads had more meaningful family time, listened more often to their children, got to know their kids better, as well as showed love, there would be a marked change in our crime rate, street safety, and we would be a better nation overall, no doubt about it. We would see a nation of happier, more well-adjusted, and productive children.

And in advance of this next Big Day, may every day be a "father's" day for you.

Something on my Mind: Confessions of a Saint

I doubt very much that you have heard of St. Craig, but if you have, don't worship him. I, er, he doesn't exist.

If I ever used the title "Saint" ( or St.), it would only be as a joke. The term I use a lot, "M'Lord," but all I ever got was laughs, which is the intention.

There are Saints and then there are saints and then, saints. The Saints is a name of an NFL team from New Orleans. Nice name, bad label. There are a smattering of other non-professional teams scattered throughout the land, usually of the high school or junior hockey flavour.

Then there are the saints of a religious order, as in St. Augustine or St. Agnes. There are many towns, schools, and roadways scattered around Alberta bearing those names and others. These have usually come about because the early settlers and missionaries were of the Catholic persuasion.

Speaking of "religious persuasion," with as much respect as possible, there is some misunderstanding as to who, what, when, how, and why a person is a saint. The following will fly in the face of religious tradition and conventional knowledge of sainthood.

And this is where I finally tie in my "confession" of a saint.

I am not a saint for a number of reasons. One, I am living and I don't know of any religious saint who is living. To be a saint, in that tradition, one must have been dead for a long time. Two, I see no precedent of a canonized saint in Scripture (saint, yes; Saint, no). And three, "saint" is applied accurately to any living follower of Jesus Christ, and not limited to dead ones.

So at any given time, if you were so inclined, you could say the following about me: "He's such a saint." That may or may not be true, but we all would know what you mean. But you shouldn't say the following about me: "That St. Craig is such a wonderful dude" (Is "dude" still in vogue?).

I may be a saint, but certainly not a Saint.

If "saint(s)" and "sainthood" are based on the Scripture, now augmented by tradition, it's best we reference the Good Book for what a saint is and isn't, to see if any of us measure up. Few of us would; most of us will think of our dear mothers (but not fathers, for some reason) as a saint, but that could be more on sentiment than anything else.

Sentiment aside, a true saint is one who is holy and set apart, usually in a practical everyday sense. Don't be picturing those 15^th Century paintings in which the so-called saints have that pious glaze, wearing those stained halos, sitting around with other saints doing the same thing.

Sainthood has been invested by God, and God alone, and I confess—there's that word again—I rarely measure up. Maybe you do, but this column is not your confessional! I rarely exhibit those virtues of patience, love, grace, etc. (marks of a true saint) in the cauldron of everyday life.

Being a true saint is one who is not caught up (yet "dragged down" at the same time) with secular values and habits. Being a true saint is one who lives in view of a better place beyond the grave. Being a true saint exhibits the virtues of the only true Saint (not the team, thankfully) Who ever lived on earth.

So my confession, then, is that I don't always exhibit those virtues. I don't always live up to the title. But it's not about perfection. Rather, it's about character and a standing before Almighty God.

Even playing for the Saints wouldn't help.

Something on my Mind: Confessions of a Teacher

As you have read here before, I think one of the noblest professions on this planet is that of a teacher. When you read "teacher," I assume you are thinking of a classroom teacher. That's essentially what I'm saying, though there are other types of instructors that I admire.

I have always held that view, even when I was just a student and had the highest regard for some of my own teachers—a Mr. Redmond. There were other types (=non-Redmond) that I have endured, and perhaps you have, too,

Now to be clear, I have absolutely no time for classroom teachers who abuse their power and influence over impressionable minds, indoctrinating them in areas that are hurtful and harmful. That would include any number of ideologies that run contrary to common decency, common sense, and common conventional thinking—and I'll leave it at that.

I have always admired (and even tried to emulate) those teachers who inspire, instruct, and illuminate, for the good of their students. But those who incite and confuse them in the face of the common good are not worthy of their vocation.

The above paragraphs could become a three-part series sometime, but I am taking a fairly simple approach, limiting my comments to this column.

I was a teacher for over a twenty-five years, running the gamut of full-time, part-time, and substitute. Over a span of forty years of working, teaching was only my third (of three) full-time vocations. That was because after I graduated from UBC with my B. Ed., the last job I wanted to do was teach.

It wasn't till twenty years after I graduated that I finally ended up in a classroom. I got the paper that said I was qualified to teach in 1977, but I found I needed twenty years of life experience to flesh that out. "Life experience" meant raising my own kids, living in a practical world (as opposed to a book-learning one), and being a student of the school of hard knocks, that rounded out my own education.

Technically, I am a "certified" teacher. That means I got the valid paperwork to teach; whether I was "qualified" to teach is another matter! Getting that paper does not mean I am a teacher by any means. It just means that I have taken the appropriate training to teach.

Now, having been out of the classroom for three years, I often reflect on my teaching career and wonder to myself: Was I ever any good at teaching? In what I thinks makes for a good teacher, I think so.

The so-called jury of students, parents, and colleagues, scattered from San Salvador (El Salvador) to Kamloops and Langley, (BC) to Bow Island and Medicine Hat, (AB), would have some say in that. I believe I would come through fine, with supporters and detractors in both sides.

By the way, my best years were right here in Bow Island, teaching at Cherry Coulee Christian Academy.

In addition to the degree and experience, there are many other qualities that are equally important to teaching. Enjoying being around kids is one. Patience is certainly a key ingredient. And I think a wide streak of creativity in methodology is up there.

For me, those so-called boxes didn't all check off, but I came fairly close. I liked most kids I taught, I struggled with patience betimes, and I was occasionally creative.

I have often thought of what made a good-to-great teacher when I was a student back in Richmond, BC. I remember fondly Mr. Redmond and Mrs. Matthews, in particular. I think their genuine warmth and kindness stand out in my mind. But in my case, if I were anything like them, my warmth would be more "heat," as in temper; and my kindness that could be construed for "weakness."

Looking back, I certainly measured up in what made for a good teacher. I still think my greatest training for the classroom was the responsibilities I had at home. With nine kids of my own, we pretty well had our own classroom! We all know that there are many habits and rules in the home that apply to the classroom.

With the recent election of the UCP, I sincerely hope that parental choice in education will be restored. This is vital in a healthy, balanced educational landscape. As there are many types of teachers (good, bad, and ugly), there are also many viable types of education models (public, charter, day, home, and everything in between).

And in all those models, parental involvement and choice is ideal, which brings me to where I really see the value in the private and home school options, each of which entail a high degree of parental involvement.

Me, a teacher? I would probably give myself a passing grade.

Something on my Mind: Confessions of a Writer

"Relevant" is one of those multi-faceted words that can be understood in a number of ways. It has multiple applications and contexts.  Here are a few considerations: It could mean changing an application of any truth by disregarding the past and exchanging it for the present.   It could mean doing anything and everything to gain favour with the current market.  Or it could mean embracing change for change sake, but leaving truth and orthodoxy in the dust.

While I should limit my comments to the writer,  it is the challenge of the retailer, preacher, media, and other spheres where people intersect with people.

The retailer, for instance, may be stuck in the 50's when it comes to marketing his wares (as well as the merchandise itself), and thus, be irrelevant for today's market. That is, of course, unless that is his market. There are many retailers who cater to that era and are very successful at it. But does that make him relevant or irrelevant? Is that even a fair question?

The preacher must be relevant, though certainly not at the cost of truth. Truth is always relevant, but it may be "packaged" in an irrelevant way, thus diminishing its effect. His style, stories, outlines, topics, and other techniques may come under the microscope of discernment, as he attempts to be relevant

In a preacher's context, sometimes how he presents his material may trump what he is presenting—how unfortunate!

The same can be said of the apparent relevance of the media personality (just the latest in technology and graphics), the school teacher (strictly a cool dude, friend of the students), the contractor (only the latest designs and patterns), and other vocations that involve people with people. At what point, if there is one, does relevancy overshadow effectiveness?

One may ask the following question when serving as a retailer, preacher, media icon, school teacher, and the others just above :  Am I relevant?

I just think that's the wrong question.

The real question for all those above, including writers, is: Am I making an impact?

It really doesn't matter if I am cool, hip, or modern, so long as I am having some sort of positive impact on my readers.  While that may be hard to gauge, changing and encouraging my readers' lives is the real litmus test.

There is always the need for each writer to apply good writing techniques, ample illustrations, while dealing with matters that are current (and thus not lost in the past), all the while scratching where it itches, soothing where hurts, and stimulating to the mind and conscience.

To me, as a writer, that is the mark of relevance! Needs of every sort demand relevant solutions, and writers are responsible to rise to the occasion.

Some of my favourite writers are not necessarily relevant, but their writing moves me, enthralls, me, and excites me. Does that make them relevant in the strictest form?   Probably not, but their writing is having an impact of my life (and my own writing as well), and that's where true relevance kicks in.

Of course, I need to ask myself: Am I relevant as a writer?  Well, certainly not in a cool, hip, or modern way, for sure. I certainly try to be relevant, but I do it as one who wants to make an impact on my readers (even as I write this paper).   We are only relevant to the extent that we are impactful (not a legitimate word, but what's a little slippage among friends?).  Often that means digging deep into the past, a place where some writers who are consumed with relevancy rarely go.

It's not a matter of going into the past for past's sake. But, as in so many other contexts, knowing where we have come from will aid in where we are going.   The past and present are seriously linked, and will produced a significant form of relevance. We draw from lessons learned, mistake made and corrected, and something very relevant called life skills.

I write this paper essentially as a writer, so the above examples are themselves relevant and current.   The last thing I would want is to be irrelevant in my deliveries, whatever form they take.   If I strive to make an "impression," rather than make an "impact," I am missing the mark.

However, if I aim for impacting my audience, then I believe I am truly relevant.