FOOD!!!!!!!!

Well….I long ago passed the label, Foodie.  My love affair with all things gastronomic began in the early 80’s, as I began to travel the world.  Since then I must admit and confess that it has at time become an obsession.  The range is simple….Street vendors to 3 star Michelin restaurants.  I’ve eaten animal penis that ‘s been stir fried on the streets of Hong Kong, and dined at Gordon Ramsey’s eatery at Claridge's in London….and pretty much everything in-between.  The passion has driven me to study cooking with locals in various parts of the world, and gather quite an eclectic arsenal of recipes that are called upon weekly.  I’ve amassed a book of favourite restaurants from all over the world….pretty much any major metropolitan area is covered, and within that, all of my favourite cuisines.

It started as a curiosity.  Different country….different food.  I was always drawn to experience the local food, and the major restaurants didn’t often provide that.  Sort of like taking someone to Chilli’s to taste Mexican food.  (I really can’t eat at those institutional places anymore….they provide nothing of interest…or quality)  So my quest drove me to ‘the locals”…food stalls or private homes, or sometimes if one was lucky, a one-off, mom and pop place off the beaten path.

So…having been to 56 countries, I have been able to quench this passion for artisanal, local food.  The term “sustainable” is known and practiced in most 2^nd and 3^rd world countries.  From farm to table in 5 minutes! It’s mainly here in the opulent West, particularly the U.S., where one finds the manufacturing of eating.

So what are my favourite experiences?  I love walking the streets of a given city or town, and looking for the central market.  There are an abundance of food stalls teaming with sights and smells of “something” cooking…and condiments.  This is perhaps my favourite way to experience the food culture.  Or the countryside…olive groves and a stand where they are selling olive oil that was made that morning, or vineyards…..Somebody stop me!

I’ve made so many friends across this globe that no matter where I go, I am always invited to a home.  I love the food found in the countryside, be it Provence or Tuscany or the Basque region of Spain….give me rustic, primal food.  Preferably outdoors on a fire made of lavender branches..with lamb on the grille, and assorted veggies….oh yes….and copious homemade wines! (See….this is where the notion of food porn comes in….I’m now visualizing the above scene in my mind, and I’m hungry!)  And the time….anywhere else in this world, the people take their time. A 2 hour lunch is not out of the ordinary.  They enjoy the food, because…well….it’s enjoyable.

Anthony Bourdain is a guy who I admire, follow, and respect.  He’s out there in T.V. land for guys like me.  You can have your Rachael Ray.  Bourdain says, “Rachael Ray is to food what Hitler was to Poland”.  Hahaha!  I agree. 

There is no real purpose of this post other than to begin to share a passion….no….an obsession……

Enjoy!

4 weeks.....

Just know this.... we’re doing “better”.  But I do know this….the hole can NOT be filled….not even with God.  That’s a notion that reads well, but isn’t scriptural.  The fact is….there is a hole in our hearts.  That hole is the place that Dylan had/has.  The thing is, when he died, so did a part of us.  And that’s as it should be.  We must learn not only to LIVE with the death of our son, but also LIVE with the hole in our heart.  He can’t be replaced, and either can the place he had in our hearts.

The point is, that because we were 24/7 care-givers, this is more a part of us lost than expected.  It was our identity.  We were Dylan for him, so the loss seems even greater.  Hard to explain......

And….post-renewal theology and the “system” hold nothing for me.  Because….at times like this, one begins to experience Jesus in spite of the rhetoric of well intentioned clergy or the sustainability of “feel good” renewal-isims.  One’s health….this loss……that’s where the rubber meets the road.  The clever idioms of the church are the “shadow”.  The weight of the pain that drives me into the bosom of Christ….that’s the “substance”.

Hope......

So....2 weeks later....

Life has continued all around me, as I've felt in a bubble.  But I've come out the other side (for the moment) with resolve.  The following thought came to me yesterday...
"I've found hope where grief and grace collide".

As a writer, that is a well crafted phrase.  But beyond that, it is EXACTLY what has happened.  There is an intersection of grief and grace.  And in the cross-hairs of that intersection is hope. 
Hope is easily lost at the best of times, but in the death of a child, hope seems unrecoverable.  But yesterday...without warning...I found it....obvious....powerful....standing guard...waiting for me.  That's right...waiting for me. 

Interesting that the Bible speaks of "Faith, Hope, and Love", with the greatest of these, love.  The three dynamics are uniquely linked.  Sure.....over the course of this 2 week journey, I've had love and faith.  But grief is such a powerful emotion, that hope gets trumped by it.
I don't have much figured out.  I didn't have anything figured out 19 years ago when we began to navigate our life with Dylan. However, the lessons learned touched a world.....literally.  And so it begins again.

A couple at my church lost their 11 year old son in January. The mother contacted me yesterday to ask if I could get together with her husband, as he is having a difficult time reconciling this loss. So again, I'm called upon to "comfort those who suffer with the comfort I've been given".  Seems never ending.  And as always, I feel inadequate in the task.  But it's not up to me......

Faith, Hope, Love....they're all abiding in this old bag of bones.

God's a great, big, God...and He's really, really nice......

The Cat and Cards...

They say a cat has nine lives.  Well.....if I were a cat, I'm on #8.  This new life is as unordered as the previous 7 were.  I didn't choose the cards....they were dealt.  Played 7 games (lives) and it isn't until the game is over that you realize what a good hand you had.


5 of the 7 games (lives) ended in what was perceived as a loss.  But the cards were good....just not what I would have picked.  And....in some sort of self-congratulatory way, I think I played them well.  


So my 8th game.....I can no longer bluff.  I no longer have a poker face.  The cards I've been dealt are seen clearly on my face.  But.....I will win this game.  I'm a seasoned player now...


After this.....one game is left....one life.....but now I sort of feel like I have a young 19 year old boy looking over my shoulder, reminding me of lessons learned in Game 7.

The house is too quiet.  Quiet seems to be what I notice.  Someone sent me a note to say that when God called Dylan home, He whispered it so only Dylan could hear.  Game 8 is very quiet...

A Hole in My Heart

Just don’t know what to write.  It’s week one…an anniversary of sorts….1 week minus a child. My mind plays the Technicolor movie of walking into Dylan’s room to find him dead.  Most other memories are good ones, but that one is far too vivid.  And my guess is that it will never turn to black and white.  Each morning I awake with that film being run.

The odd thing about a tragedy like this, and the process, is that the one who experiences the deepest grief seems to be called upon to provide the greatest comfort.  I have held so many who have cried….providing them all words of comfort, while all the time myself, screaming inside, “Doesn’t anyone understand that this is excruciating to me”?

Auto-pilot….that’s what life is.  God?  Sure….He’s around.  But when you’re numb, you’re numb.

I was with all my remaining children for the funeral.  But I hate the term “remaining children”.  The thing is….Dylan is my child…not my ex-child.  I have 4 children.  1 of them has passed away.  My kids were/are healing.

I miss Dylan…his smile, his giggle, but I miss his smell….the feel of his body….to touch…..how he impacted my senses. 

I am lonely. There is a hole in my heart.  Many well meaning Christians will say, “Oh…God will fill that hole”.  That’s not true.  That hole is not fill-able.  The challenge is to life with the hole.  The hole isn’t meant to heal…it’s meant to be a part of the future.

If you have kids….do more…..

His Love is Better than Whine

I know, I know…I can hear many of you saying to yourselves, “That’s “w-i-n-e, not whine”.  Well, perhaps it’s both.  But I’d like to speak to the first spelling. 

By a show of hands, (you’re not really raising your hands now, are you?) how many of you have something to complain about?  Come on, you over there at your desk, why aren’t you raising your hand?  You know that lower back pain you’ve had for a few years now?  Go ahead, whine.  How ‘bout you over there with your car in desperate need of some over needed work?  Whine away.  And what about you?  (You know who you are!)  You have been losing your temper more and more these days, and, well, everybody’s acting so stupid around you, you have every right to…go ahead…whine away.  (How many of you fit all three examples?)

Here’s some non-news.  The little things will always change.  Car troubles, mounting bills, age related back pain, weight related back pain.  (Double ouch!), intellectually challenged people all around…always will be in a state of flux.  But here’s more non-news…The Big things will never change.  God’s love, God’s mercy, God’s grace.  Rocket science?  Hardly.  Just a friendly reminder.

I feel that I have a lot to complain about.  Even my hair hurts.  The past 5 years,  I’ve been in and out of doctor’s offices and hospitals with 3 heart operations.  I have 2 wonderful children still at home; the youngest is a chronic care child.  He’s perpetual energy and movement.  He requires constant observation, and is SOOOOOO strong, that I, more times than not, find myself sitting on the floor, having lost in the collision that was him and me!  A lady once told me her definition of parenthood.  She said it could be summed up in four words.  “You’re always wiping something”.  Well with Dylan, that is even more so.  I travel ALL the time.  Each year the print gets smaller.   Did I mention that my hair hurts?  All my trousers are shrinking!  Shirts too.  Have I mentioned my hair?

About 15 years ago I heard then 700 Club co-host Ben Kinchlow speak in Toronto, Canada.  He talked about perspective, and our problem with problems.  He took a dime out of his pocket.  He told us to close one eye.  Then he said to hold the dime at arms length up to the sky.  He said that the dime represented our troubles, the things that we complain about.  The size of the dime in comparison to the vastness of the sky is really the way our problems should look to us who believe in the scandalous grace of Jesus.  However, he said that most of us pull the dime right up against our one open eye.  As we do, it becomes the only thing we can see.  I now ALWAYS carry a dime around with me.

What’s your “dime”?  Is it finances?  Cancer?  Heart problems?  Job?  Spouse? Hurting hair?  Hold it at arms length against the vastness of who God is. 

Many years ago Stuart Hamblen wrote a gospel song called “How Big is God”.  The chorus said this:

How big is God, how big and wide His vast domain

To try to tell these lips can only start

He's big enough to rule His mighty universe

Yet small enough to live within my heart.

Believe me, His love is better than whine!  Ten cents says I can prove it!