Worship Team

My church worship leader said that she was "stuck"; as she had no guitarists for the service.  She asked me if I could help out.  I agreed, but she wanted to know if I knew anyone else.  I said, "that I knew a guy, but he likely wouldn't play."  I was wrong. French said yes. Well his exact answer was: "sure whatever".

So French and I led the music team.  French and I did some brief prep and then we just jumped into it.  I've heard him play plenty of Pink Floyd, and Led Zeppelin, but never Chris Tomlin and Hillsong United.  He did great.  He said his goal was to hit 80% of the notes and chords (he did better than that).  I even heard him belt out the lyrics; especially in the choruses.

French is a really organic and kinetic player.  So his foot was tapping, head bobbing, and body swaying.  He plays like this even when he is alone. This is how he keeps time, and he just tends to really get into music.  French asked me if he looked too weird bopping around.  I told him it was "all good".

After the service a lady came up to him, smiled and said that "he rocked it today".

I think the Redeemer Worship Team may have a new member, or two.

John

John was my grandfather, well at least for the last 25 years or so.  My grandmother married John when they were in their fifties; both of them had lost their spouses earlier on in life.  My grandmother was actually a widow since my mother was 13, so gaining a grandfather for the first time in my teens was a real joy.

John was cool.  He let me drive his snowmobile, he let me snag a beer from his sacred garage fridge, and he taught me the art of finding a TV with Hockey Night in Canada, (or in a pinch: another sport) at many family events.  Once when we were hanging out when I was 15, and he told me to hop in his truck and drive him into Perth.  I'd never driven before, so he taught me the basics and we hit the road.  I was pretty stressed, but it was pretty fun and exciting too.  I was a miserable driver, but I always remember what he said when we got back to my grandparent's house: "You sure got better at centering the truck on the way back.  You'll be a fine driver".  That simple compliment resonated, and sure helped me be confident when I went for my licence a few months later.

He died with far too little warning, but I'll sure miss him.

A Prayer for Rose

My phone rang on Sunday; it was Bruce Fish.  I think that is the 2nd time that he has called in three years, so I was pretty surprised.  He beat around the bush for a bit chatting about wrestling, his truck, and his dog.  Abruptly, he said: "Rose wants you to pray for her".  I said, "certainly".  He launched into his explanation.  Then said that he had to call French, and hung up.

Turns out Rose thought she was pregnant.  Her and Bruce Fish have one child, so far, but she really wants one more.  She envisions a little playmate for her baby.  Rose is approaching 40, (Bruce is older still) and she feels that time is running out.  Rose was so convinced that she was expecting that she had named the baby, and she was "talking" to it in her womb. Sadly, she was just uncharacteristically late.  Bruce almost hung up when he got to this part of his story.

Children are such a blessing, may Rose, and Bruce Fish, be blessed.

Silvertone

French is saving for a new guitar.  He had a supped up Epiphone Les Paul; with upgraded pick-ups and tuners.  French was carrying it out to a buddy's garage for a jam, when he slipped on a patch of ice.  He tried to save it, but the neck snapped right in half.  Currently, he is playing my old Stratocaster, but he wants his own.

Saying that he wants a new one is poor wording.  He really wants the one that is pictured above: 1963 era Silvertone Amp in Case Electric Guitar.  French is struggling a bit financially, yet he is pretty positive about a recent interview.

In the meantime, he's been playing open mics to make money.  At these free shows his favourite expression is: "Nothing says request like twenty bucks."

He'll have his "new to him" old guitar soon.

Rose's Bible Challenge

Rose has been pushing Bible studies on us guys for years.  She actually has a box of Bibles at the ready at her house; she buys them in bulk.  She is gifting them constantly.  This past  year she used our competitive nature to see who could read the the Old Testament once and the New Testament twice in one year.  We all took on Rose's challenge.

Bruce Fish dropped out early.  He says he gets plenty enough Bible just living with Rose.  Pancake says he lost his Bible in church at Easter.  Sweaty gave it up once summer started.  By mid summer I was about 30 days behind in the reading plan.  I mentioned this to French.  I was shocked to hear that he was still on pace in mid August, so I caught up.

Once work started I fell way behind again; this time by 40 days.  I saw French sitting in his truck in late November.  He was reading his tattered Good News Bible he'd gotten when he was confirmed.  He was smoking a cigarette.  French exhaled and said:  "I'm on pace buddy. You?"  There was only a month to go, and I still had to reread the New Testament and a some of the Psalms.  I just couldn't let French beat me.

I finished just a bit late: Jan. 6th.  French beat me by a week, but Rose is so proud.


A creative way to get a coupla louts to read the Bible eh? 

Talking Evil

French and I are both teachers, so we've been knocking around some ideas, and rehashing events that we've gone through in lockdowns, and just generally discussing the Newton tragedy.

We've each been through a rash of lockdowns: both real and practice.  Sometimes the practice ones were worse than the real ones.  Practicing hiding and being quiet with a group of teens for over an hour is rough. One class that I taught had some gangsters in it.  They were actually  relishing the thought of someone attacking our room.  They spent one lockdown dreaming up murderous plots for any intruder.

A group of us talked about gun control, the need for better access to mental health, and new security procedures.  Everyone seemed to have an answer.  All of them we've been hearing for years, but two stood out as different: French and Rose Fish, as usual, had a different angle.

Firstly, French said that in his experience he had to protect the kids from other kids; more so than intruders.  French and I have stepped in to stop multiple stabbings, and other attacks with weapons.  The potentially most lethal was during a huge school wide brawl we pried a long metal pole with a hook (used to move basketball nets in and out from the wall) from one guy's hand.  This student was trying to plunge the hook into another student's skull.  Oddly, every time we broke up a fight, or attack,our reputation would grow as always being around trouble.  There is almost negative pressure from my peers to step in too often.  Currently, we are not even allowed to break up a fight physically.  Our job is to observe the fight and then write up a report that is adjective, and bias free and submit it to a bureaucrat.

Secondly, Rose listened to us all to finish up our tale telling, and then she said: "No policy reform or bureaucratic procedure is going to stop evil.  You'll all have to wait for Jesus to come set this all straight."

On Snow Tires and Prayers

The current labour issues in teaching are actually good for French.  He's been hired to take on a variety of duties for the next two weeks.  He's really happy to have a steady job heading into Christmas.  French will truly earn this money; supply teaching is no easy gig.

French has been staying with Bruce Fish for the last little while. They've been busy changing tires; just taking advantage of the big rush for us Canadians to put on our, all too necessary, snow tires.  Bruce Fish has a place with a nice shop, so they've been busy.  The rush is over, so these teaching job works out great.

He said it was fun hanging out with Bruce Fish and Rose Fish as well, but he had been a bit uncomfortable at times.  Everyday Rose Fish gets out a stack of Bibles at morning coffee.  She makes the lads read a passage, then she asks for prayer requests.  Then Rose right jumps right into it; just prays and talks to God.

French always tries to weasel out of it, but Rose Fish knows his ways.  She somehow always gets French to take part.  He always fusses and fidgets during these moments.  As soon as Rose Fish said amen, he'd hand the Bible back, take a last swig of coffee, and bolt back to the shop.

I asked him why he felt that way.  He said: "I don't know really know.  It is just that things happen when she prays."