October 2007

Well, I think I’m all packed. I’ve made a list of everything I need, and then went through the procedure of stuffing those items into a large bag. Then came the painstaking ordeal of selecting which items aren’t necessary and can be removed so the bag will close.

The bag is now laying on the floor and will soon be loaded into a vehicle that will take me to the ferry. After the ferry and some busses, and a car ride, and a sleep, and another car ride and three flights with a long lay over in Los Angeles, I’ll be arrriving in Singapore three days from now. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

And this is supposed to be a holiday.

And as a kid I thought that five hours in a car was a long and grueling travel nightmare.

So Sheena and I are going on and extraordinary excursion. After nine days of backpacking around Singapore and Malaysia we’ll be off to New Zealand to spend a few weeks with friends. I’m excited because I hear that ice cream is cheap there: oh, and Sheena’s promised me a day to go surfing.

I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight. I am so excited. I’m far more excited than any kid on Christmas eve: even the kids who have Christmas and their Birthday all rolled into one.

I’ll try and keep everyone informed about our travels as we go along. Until then here’s something to think about:

I want to conduct a highly unscientific survey. I’d appreciate it if you’d take some time to answer a couple questions.

Have you ever told a lie? (You can keep the lie to yourself if you wish.) What happened as a result of the lies? Were there any consequences? If so, what were they?

thanks

I worked today.

I made $1.85 an hour.

It was a good day.

I’m currently liking the term “ditchcomber” as a job title with ditchcombing being what I do. If you’re unsure what a ditch comber does look up “beachcombing” in wikipedia.

Who am I?

This is a question I’ve been faced with lately.

Let me quickly bring you up to speed. At the end of August my job with my church ended. The contract was up. It was not renewed. I became unemployed.

When I joined the glorious ranks of the unemployed, I had delusions of a life doing all the things I’ve ever wanted to do, but never had the time. I dreamed of sleeping in, working on my guitar skills, doing some good for the environment, reading more, getting less unfit, and making travel plans.

Little of that has happened.

It turns out that being unemployed is far from glamorous. Actually, it’s tough stuff.

I’ve had to spend time alone with myself.

I don’t know how that happened. I never meant for that to happen. But it did.

And now I’m having to come to terms with the truth that my identity, the truth about who I am, has nothing to do with a job. This is hard stuff. I’m a man. We find our identity through what we do. Every job I’ve ever held gave me a title that secured my status. When I waited tables: I was a waiter. When I delivered the mail: I was the mail man.

So if I’m unemployed, what am I? Or rather: who am I?

I am no longer a waiter, a visitor info counselor, a mailman, or any of those things that my jobs made me.

And now in my last position, I was a pastor.

Am I no longer a pastor now?

Somehow that doesn’t seem to fit.

It occurred to me tonight that no one can take my calling away except the one who called me.

So, I can be a pastor, lose my job with a church, and still be a pastor all because my Creator made me to be a pastor.

This is good news as I’ve begun a new financial endeavor. It’s not a job exactly, but it takes a great deal of time and earns me a small income.

I’m now the guy who goes around the neighborhood picking the bottles and cans up out of the ditch, and I’d hate to think that my new identity is that of “can collector.”

There are actually many pluses to such a money making scheme. I’m learning that it’s a way to check a few of the “to-dos” off my list. Walking around the neighborhood is exercise, recycling and picking up trash is helping the environment, and I’ve got plenty of time to ponder new questions such as: how does one pastor when your flock has been taken from you?

Now, if you’re one who likes to keep track of my income, you’ll find it interesting to note that in the past year I went from working for Canada Post, to working for a church, to now foraging through ditches and shrubbery to find bottles and cans.

Sometimes living out our true identity means we won’t live a glamorous life.

Oh, and if you like, you can now refer to me as “The Bottle Barbarian” although I know that’s not really who I am.