The Integrated Life - Eleanor Shepherd

My guess is that the only perfectly integrated person who ever walked this earth is Jesus Christ. What we do and how we do it is so integrally a part of who we are.  When our faith to defines our character, it needs to be expressed in all that we do.  This is not a new idea.  It is articulated in phrases like we need to walk the talk and other such expressions about being authentic.  However, when we become intentional about it, we realize that we have given ourselves a difficult assignment.  We need times of reflection when we can step back and consider our reactions in different situations, and measure them against who we are and desire to be.  When what we do, sometimes by habit, is not consistent with the pattern that we desire to conform to, we are able then to take steps to address our inconsistences and become more integrated people.  It is the working of the Spirit in our lives that brings to our awareness our deviation from what we desire to be. 

In psychology, I found fascinating the idea of reducing cognitive dissonance. It some situations it would be called rationalization.  What it means is that when we have made a decision, we will try to find support for that decision.  For instance, the commonly used example is buying a car.  We decide to buy a particular mark of car, let’s say we decide to buy a Toyota.  After that, we always appreciate and support the advertising that we see for Toyotas, because that supports the choice that we have made. 

I think there is a way in which this also applies to the integration of our lives as children of God. We have chosen to open our lives to God and allow Him to determine who we are, seeking to live in conformity with the pattern of life that he showed us in Jesus and that is taught in the Scriptures.  Having done that, we then will reduce our cognitive dissonance, by continuing to make choices that are consistent with Biblical principles and the character of Jesus. 

Not only have we been created with a psychological makeup that encourages us to live in harmony with our choices.  As an additional resource to help us to do this, we have been given the Holy Spirit, who lives in us and continually reorients our moral compass toward what is good and true.

I have always been intrigued by the concept of the integrated life.  I am not sure if that is something to do with being a woman.  I know that as women, we tend more often to try to integrate the various roles that we play in life, whereas men are more inclined to separate them and compartmentalize.  I guess that leads me to the question, ‘Does the integration process happen differently for a man than for a woman?”  I expect that for a woman the concept of integration would be more like a wheel with the individual spokes that all radiate from the same centre.  Who we are as women is expressed in various ways, but they all flow from the same core. 

For a man, would integration be into a larger picture in which all of the various compartments of his life have their own unique place?  The integration would be in the way that each of these compartments makes up the whole picture.  Another analogy would be the mega story and the micro stories.  His life is the mega story and the individual parts of it are the micro stories that together form the mega story.

For both men and women, integration is essential for authenticity in our Christian lives, but the creation of that integration may look quite different, in that women will strive to work on strengthening the core, or the hub of the wheel from which all of the other aspects of her life will extend, while the man might choose to focus on any one or several of the compartments and seek to bring that into line with the focus of the larger picture.   He may seek for consistency in the micro stories that will then produce consistency in the macro story.  In both cases the goal in integration. The greater the integration of our lives, the more we will begin to reflect the One we follow. 

Word Guild Award
              2011

Word Guild Award
             2009

Accepting The Challenge/MANN

Have you ever accepted a challenge and then wondered if you could achieve it? I like to walk and would be the first to admit that I don’t do it enough. My husband turns seventy-five this month and knowing I’m not far behind him helps me to realize that if we don’t step up to the plate with grandchildren’s invitations, we miss opportunities to share special parts of their life.

This was the the case a couple of weeks ago. A grandson asked, “Grandma, will you walk for Terry Fox with me? My school is doing it on Thursday.”

No problem! I checked the weather report and it showed sunny periods with a slight breeze. I got my old running shoes out and admitted that this would be a very pleasant experience. Putting on a cotton shirt and a light jacket, I was ready on the given day.

The walk actually began with a ‘sit-down’ in the school gymnasium where a teacher provided each participant a map and the principal gave implicit instructions about safety, comfort and discipline. I remember two particular statements: “You are never alone”, “Somebody is always behind you.” The children of the Roman Catholic school could easily understand those sentences with a double meaning. How comforting this would be to even the smallest child. Okay, bring it on. Let’s run this race (walk) that has been set before you.

It was not long before I was on the street in the midst of a multitude of children: excited, cheering and walking as if they had springs in their shoes. The scenery was pleasant, the few clouds in the sky gave some shelter from the hot sun and walking in the shade of trees provided an even better canopy. It wasn’t long before I shed my jacket and rolled up my shirt sleeves. When I began to think we should be nearing the end of the walk, I heard some adults refer to seeing the half-way mark. I looked at my watch; we had been walking for an hour.

As I continued, I began to wish I had brought some water with me. I also thought it would have been helpful if I’d brought my iPod as some of the children had done and I definitely wouldn’t have worn a jacket. Wondering If I’d studied the map, would I have been able to follow it better?

I continued to appreciate the scenery with the fall colours beginning to tinge the leaves and grass. I talked to different children and adults as they walked past. My grandson encouraged me to, “Come on Grandma. Keep up.” There were times when I would have dearly loved to sit down on the side of the path and watch the others, but I knew that wouldn’t get me back to the school. So yes, knowing that I was never alone gave me the strength I needed and the stamina to finish the walk. And certainly, not knowing it was a five-mile walk at the beginning of the day was a plus.

Donna Mann
http://www.donnamann.org

A wedding speech is…--Carolyn Wilker

This year my husband and I have two daughters getting married. One wedding took place in August, on a beautiful sunshiny day at an outdoor venue. The second wedding is coming up very soon. We hope for sunny weather for that day too, even if the ceremony will be indoors.

At our own wedding, my husband gave the speech. Short and sweet, with no extra words—thanks to parents, attendants, and anyone else who had helped us get ready for the day. No stories, no jokes. Tops, maybe 3 minutes. Not a speaker by nature, unless the topic is work, weather or mechanics, his response is short.

I wasn’t a speaker then either. Standing up in front of 25, 50—or in that case, more than a hundred—was daunting; I was glad I didn’t have to do it. 

Since then I learned, on my first interview as a published writer, that learning to speak would be a good thing. I joined Toastmasters in 2004 and  since then have given many speeches at my club and beyond, including speaking at two contests. I’ve also given workshops and taught writing.

Fellow Toastmaster, Tony, is fond of recalling my first speech at the club and reminding me, and others, just how far I’ve come.

In 2005, when our middle daughter and her fiancé announced their wedding date, I told my husband that I would give the speech. I’m sure I didn’t imagine it—the quiet sigh of relief.  Then I surprised my family by getting up and giving the speech.

Since I’ve set the bar, I announced again that for these two weddings, I would give the speech. I asked the bride for permission to speak as well as the required length of time.

I wrote and rewrote. The product on the first try was not very remarkable even if there was good stuff in it. The day I gave my speech at the club, I had made more changes. When I delivered the speech, I promptly forgot some changes and remembered others.

One of our Toastmasters is a wedding officiant. She noted that I had more stories for the bride than for the groom. She was right. It also seemed to her that I had a little more of a roast than a wedding speech; it hadn’t been intended that way at all.

 We’ve attended enough weddings to know that all kinds of stories come out—including the humorous variety. I think of the one that my father shared at our wedding. One day a young man came driving in our country lane, and my Dad, thinking that the young man had come to see him on church business, soon learned the fellow had come to see me instead. Gentle humour from my father, at his own expense, so good that I’ve remembered it all these years.

Thus I went back to my copy and reworked it again. A wedding speech, after all, is not one we give very often. My husband asked if he should be up there with me, and so I came up with a plan that would include his voice in the closing.

 All that practice paid off, because the day of the wedding, though I had my notes with me, I really didn’t need them. And all of that impromptu speaking practice?—I was paying attention. I commented on others’ speeches—points not included in my script. There was even some humour. My husband came in perfectly on the last line. Tony would be so proud.

The bride and groom were pleased, and I received several compliments on my speech. The groom got roasted, but not by me.

 Now to do it again. I have permission and the allowed time from the second bride-to-be. My speech is written and is not the same one I delivered on her sister's special day.

 I have practised again, with my fellow Toastmasters as audience, so that I will be ready. (Thank you!)

 What is that line again? Ah, yes. Practice makes perfect.

October Baby a must-see movie

By Reverend Ed Hird

How many of you are October babies or have October baby children?  My children’s birthdates are in March, June and November, and I and my wife am born in January and August. So no October babies for us.

                This past month our Deep Cove community was privileged to have the first BC showing of the acclaimed film October Baby.  We were pleasantly surprised by the great interest shown and wide variety of people who turned up for the first viewing.  We anticipate October Baby being shown again on the North Shore.  It has just been released as well in DVD and Blu-Ray edition.  You can obtain your own copy online .

                October Baby is a surprise hit opening at No. 8 against THE HUNGER GAMES and other big-budget movies, although opening on half as many screens.  October Baby ranked No. 3 in per screen average sales. The film earned more than $5.3 million at the box office, appeared on page A-1 of the New York Times and was named amongEntertainment Weekly’s “15 Most Impressive Box Office Performances for 2012.” New York Times called October Baby a ‘quiet hit’.   Film directors and brothers Jon and Andy Erwin have been amazed at the strong response to their film.

                The movie begins with the heroine Hannah hesitantly taking part in her theatrical debut in college. Before her first lines, she collapses. Numerous medical tests all point to one underlying factor: Hannah’s difficult birth. This revelation is nothing compared to discovering that she was actually adopted  with complications for an early traumatic birth.

Hannah is frustrated and baffled that her medical doctor father never told her that she was adopted.  This cast Hannah into an identity crisis: “My parents are not my parents. I don’t know who I am.  They lied to me. Whom can I trust?”

Hannah goes on a road journey with Jason, her oldest friend.  Her dad was not pleased.  In the midst of her incredible journey to discover her hidden past and find hope for her unknown future, Hannah sees that life can be so much more than what you have planned.  I particularly appreciated the way that Rachel Hendrix played the part of Hannah.  It was engaging, believable and transformative.  My hunch is that Rachel has a great film career ahead of her.

Everytime I have watched October Baby, I found myself weeping.  It is an amazing story of healing, forgiveness and reconciliation.  Hannah was told: “You have the power to forgive, to choose to forgive. Let it go. Hatred is a burden you no longer need to carry. Only in forgiveness can you be free, Hannah…if the Son shall set you free, you will be free indeed.”  October Baby is really a love story with a surprising ending. If I tell you any more, I will spoil the story.

My prayer for the those reading this article is that we will all be reminded that life is beautiful.

Reverend Ed Hird, Rector

St. Simon’s Church North Vancouver

Anglican Mission in the Americas (Canada)

http://stsimonschurch.ca

-an article for the October 2012 Deep Cove Crier

-award-winning author of the book ‘Battle for the Soul of Canada’

http://www.battleforthesoulofcanada.blogspot.com

p.s. In order to obtain a copy of the book ‘Battle for the Soul of Canada’, please send a $18.50 cheque to ‘Ed Hird’, #1008-555 West 28th Street, North Vancouver, BC V7N 2J7. For mailing the book to the USA, please send $20.00 USD.  This can also be done by PAYPAL using the e-mailed_hird@telus.net . Be sure to list your mailing address. The Battle for the Soul of Canada e-book can be obtained for $9.99 CDN/USD.

-Click to download a complimentary PDF copy of the Battle for the Soul study guide :  Seeking God’s Solution for a Spirit-Filled Canada

You can also download the complimentary Leader’s Guide PDF: Battle for the Soul Leaders Guide

When the science is bunk, peer review is complicity - Denyse O’Leary

Here’s a bit from my latest Salvo: “Bunk Science If Peer Review Is Working, Why All the Retractions?” (Salvo 22, Fall 2012):

C. Glenn Begley, a former researcher at the biotechnology firm Amgen, which funds cancer research, offers a sobering example: when Amgen redid the published experiments of 53 "landmark" cancer studies, it could not replicate the original results in 47 of them. As reported in a Reuters news article:

Part way through his project to reproduce promising studies, Begley met for breakfast at a cancer conference with the lead scientist of one of the problematic studies.

"We went through the paper line by line, figure by figure," said Begley. "I explained that we re-did their experiment 50 times and never got their result. He said they'd done it six times and got this result once, but put it in the paper because it made the best story. It's very disillusioning."

Not only that, but some study authors made the Amgen scientists sign a confidentiality agreement preventing them from disclosing data that contradicted the study authors' original findings. So we may never know which ones couldn't be replicated.

Peer review is not much use against problems at this level. These people are the peers.

More.

Beauty and the Beast

     by Glynis M. Belec

     Drayton is a little farming town tucked nicely somewhere between Kitchener and Listowel. Life in a small town has its amazing benefits, although some city slicker might scoff and utter derogatory slams implying narrowness of mind and wondering how people actually enjoy living in the boon-docks. Doesn't bother me an iota. The joys of small town living far out-weigh the conveniences of city dwelling.

Michael shares his heart...

One of those joys, happened this past Sunday when Michael Bull Roberts from Tender Heart Ministries in Toronto, paid a visit. Souls were stirred and the Holy Spirit was on the move. The small town reception from some pretty cool folk warmed Michael's heart and seemed to confirm God was using him in a mighty way.
One of Michael's Facebook entries about his visit said this:

...Holy, Holy, Holy, unreal. I'm still pumped from last night’s event. I knew when I left the house something great was going to happen and it did. The people were wonderful. I sat doing worship in my apartment y myself before I went and when Dave picked me up I said to him man I'm excited to go there. I feel this one will be awesome and it was. It felt so good to feel that one inch of love from hundreds of people. Last night’s event truly renewed my strength and confidence in what I'm trying to do thank you Jesus...

   I had had the opportunity to meet Michael 'on line' almost a year ago via Donna Fawcett/Dawson - our mutual writer friend. Before I knew it, I found myself heartbroken. I had heard the CTV news report. I had read Michael's best selling book and I had hooked up with him on Facebook and was slowly realizing the immense love that God had for this man.

Never in my life have I met a man whose story is so heart-wrenching yet so gloriously inspiring. As Michael bared his soul in front of the 450 people who had gathered at Drayton Reformed Church to hear the bulky former drug-lord and gangster turned crusader for Christ, I couldn't help wanting to hug him.

I have so much to say about Michael and his incredible genuine gratitude to God. I still have to sort out my thoughts and my notes and keep learning more about the tender heart of the Beast, as he calls himself.

 I heard more beauty in Michael's words as he gave all the glory to the grace of God for rescuing him from the miry pit. He is a humble man and although he is an amazing story-teller, he does say he much prefers one on one or small group situations.

I think anyone who heard Michael speak in Drayton last week couldn't help but go home and in the quiet of their own hearts, think upon what he said. God uses us all if we let Him. God used Michael mightily in this little ol' small town. And judging by the phone calls, emails, face to face discussions that I have been responding to, that big city fella' who is following the leading of Jesus, made a great big impact in the heart of many. I know he sure did in mine!

Michael may have once been a beast but the beauty that shines forth in the life of this Champion for Christ is inspiring.

No More Good Samaritans? -- Gibson

Monday, September 24^th. An exquisite afternoon in my parents' city--until my father discovered something had gone missing.

Daddy set out on his mobility scooter to visit a friend in the hospital almost across the road. En-route home, his scooter tumbled off a curb and he tumbled off the scooter, hitting his head on the concrete.

Old man, silver hair tousled. Cast down. And in one of the busiest sections of town, too. I wonder how many people passed him; but not one good Samaritan.

Pouf! Here one century, gone the next.

Somehow Dad managed to right his little machine and climb back on.

“I wasn’t hurt, Kathleen,” he told me later, over the phone. “And the scooter wasn’t damaged. But something really bad happened in my head. I got all turned around.”

It should have taken Dad less than five minutes to scoot home. Instead, he wandered around town for over an hour trying to find his way home. Asking for directions. A few people pointed this way and that, he said, but by the time the words had left their mouths they’d rushed away and Dad, who had increasing memory challenges even prior to his fall, had already forgotten what they’d said.

(“My memory?” he often answers when I ask him how his brain is doing this week. “Great! Good as new! Hardly ever used it!”)

And so it happened, that after helping others all his life, Daddy found no one to help him. To take five minutes and guide him home. That he arrived there eventually, and recognized the place, could only be thanks to the Father who has guided him all his life.

Forget “state of the nation” speeches. Nations consist of "state of the heart.” These days, (generally speaking): petrified of strangers, disrespectful of elders, afraid to touch anyone we’re not related to or in love with and too self-centered to get involved. And even if we weren’t all that, in cases like Dad's most of us assume everyone carries a cell. Not Dad. Never has. Never will.

He told me about getting lost a few days after it happened, when I called from two provinces over to wish him a happy 89^th birthday. It took a few days for his head to clear, he said.And that’s when I learned about the disappearance of the Good Samaritans.

I’m not pointing fingers at one city. Things like that happen where I live too. I’m not pointing fingers at anyone at all. I’m doing what my darlin’ dad told me he was doing, after he noticed my long pause at the other end of his story.

“I’m okay, Kathleen,” he said, worried about me now. “Really. I guess I just needed to cry on your shoulder awhile.”

Forgive me. I guess that's what I'm doing on yours. Good Samaritans shone rather beautifully in the world, you see. I already miss them.

Among other places, author, newspaper columnist and broadcaster Kathleen Gibson ponders faith and life in Sunny Side Up and on Simple Words.