Quips & Quotes

Anonymous: Friends are God’s way of taking care of us.

Citizenship Ceremony at Hastings District Council

You never do know who you're going to bump into. Welcoming new citizens to New Zealand, including my good friends Brett and Joelle Pretorius, at Hastings District Council.

See the full set, with order form at Duncan Brown Photography, and feel free to tag yourself or your friends on Facebook.

Quips & Quotes

Anonymous: Each of us need a Paul, Barnabas and Timothy... a father, a son, and a co-worker in the gospel.

Quips & Quotes

Anonymous: Strangers are just friends waiting to happen.

Quips & Quotes

Brooke Telford: Cousins are cool because they are born as your best friends and you can't do anything to get rid of them!

Who cares?

Just some of the people who are paid to care:

care-givers

psychiatrists

police

employers and managers

politicians

teachers and principals

shop assistants

nurses/doctors/medical staff

-----

 

People who may well care, but don't have to

colleagues

acquaintances

neighbours

subordinates

-----

 

People who are expected to care:

spouses

kids

parents

friends

fellow-parishioners

-----

 

So here's the question:

how do I feel when those that should care, don't?
and, for whom do I really care,

and actually, what does it look like?

Values and valuables

A long time ago, when I was just a boy, I remember reading a book called The Diddakoi, about a young gypsy girl who lived amongst a society that generally distrusted and reviled her fellow-gypsies as rough-living, dirty and dishonest, and to be avoided at all costs. And no doubt some of them were dishonest and thieving crooks to boot.

But from the whole book, there is just one passage that I remember. It was a conversation between two non-gypsies discussing their differences. To paraphrase (from memory):

"Sure, you might think they are dirty, but they would say the same about you."
          "And how might that be," she replied haughtily.
"Well then, they'd think you were dirty cos you use the same bucket for washing clothes as you do for preparing veges. They would never do that, they have different buckets for each task."  

It's a question of culture.

I'm reminded of the true story of the Victorian women who begged to have their babies on the street rather than give birth in the hospitals under the care of surgeons proudly wearing aprons stained with the blood of their previous patients.

It's a question of knowledge.

I was taking photos during a powhiri once when one of the speakers said something in Maori, and they all looked at me and laughed. I felt stink. In contrast, I love visiting Te Aranga Marae in Flaxmere, Hastings, where both Maori and English are allowed during the welcome and people of all races are made to feel at home.

It's a question of respect.

Language has always fascinated me, and the exceptions intrigue me. For instance, why isn't the 'au' in Paraparaumu pronounced 'oh' as in Taupo? I asked a woman that once, and thinking I was criticising her language, she got really offended and stormed out of the interview (much to the dismay of the reporter I was working with.)

Not to be put off, some time later I asked the question again and had it explained to me that the original translators had made a mistake. The city just north of Wellington should be called Parapara Umu - two words - i.e. the 'au' should not be read as one sound. Curiosity satisfied, and I just learnt a bit more about the history of my country. Win-win.

It's a question of tolerance of ignorance and security in ones own identity.

I've got to confess, I don't understand Halloween. Just what is the point of dressing up as characters from The Dark Side and playing Trick or Treat i.e. "Give me something I want or you'll regret it." The cynic in me would say it's just another retailer ruse to sell more stuff at a traditionally quiet time of the retail year.

And yes I know it's just a game, and sure the kids have fun, but do we really want to reinforce the notion that it's okay to beg for stuff without doing anything for it? Maybe my American friends can help me out...

It's a question of understanding.

Just five days later, New Zealand celebrates Guy Fawke's Day, as we have ever since I was a child, with fireworks, bonfires and guy competitions. It's a celebration of the 407 years since a plot to overthrow the King was thwarted. It's rather sad that such a colourful part of our British Heritage is slowly dying because of the minority who light fires irresponsibly and terrorise pets.

It's a question of historical significance.

And then we have the public holidays of Christmas and Easter. I remember being less-than-happy about having to work on a Good Friday, and one of my colleagues wondering what the issue was (after all, I got a day off later in the week didn't I?) until I explained a holiday was originally known as a HolyDay. He hadn't thought of it like that before...

It's a question of the truth behind the tradition.

Just recently a group of my friends were at a pot-luck lunch where, as per our normal custom, the women filled their plates first. The Indian women however would not go to the table until their menfolk had served themselves.

Similarly, some folks think it bad manners to look you in the eye, while others would consider it a bit dodgy were you to look away.

It's a question of custom and etiquette.

I consider myself truly blessed that I have a whole range of nationalities amongst my friends: English, Indian, Australian, Singaporean, Maori, South African, Cook Island, American, Zimbabwean, Canadian, Chinese, Kiwi and probably a good few more.

Invariably, our differences come down to our culture, our history and our beliefs. But we do have a few things in common: We are each unique, we are each extremely valuable and though we can't really know what's going on in each other's mind, and we don't always understand the way they react to various situations, we do at least try.

It's a question of values.

BFF

 Best Friends Forever!

A long time ago, before the days of the computer, when LOL meant "Lots of Love" and a blog was a mis-pronounced swamp, I found myself sitting at my desk, pondering the question of life, and feeling very much alone. I was in a very dark place!

But then I heard His voice, and with the help of just my single-note trumpet, I wrote this song.

When your friends seem to let you down
And it seems nobody cares
And the loneliness inside you
Came and caught you unawares

And you want to find the answer
You need to find a friend
You long to know somebody
That will love you to the end...

I am a Friend who is always with you
I am a friend who is ever near
When you are crying, I'm right beside you
To wipe away your tear

So turn your eyes and look to me
Don't try to go alone
I'll lead the way, come follow me
And I will lead you home...

I am a Friend who is always with you
I am a friend who is ever near
Reach out to me and you know I'll answer
I am always here.

And as I wrote, I felt his arms wrap around my soul, and his voice whisper in my mind, "I will never let you go..."

And somehow, then as it does still, it made a difference... BFF

An eternal conundrum

I like work! On top of putting in a good 40+ hours for the boss, I run my own business, I'm involved in various areas of the church, and just for fun, I've started writing this blog. Getting bored is never an option.

If you can picture me as a juggler, throw in another ball each for my wife, my family, chores, home maintenance, carting kids and the school board. I don't watch a lot of TV (though I do play on the computer), and if I'm to have time with friends, I have to book them in.
         
That's not to say I'm a workaholic. Neither am I unhappy or having a moan, and yes, there are areas where I've dropped the ball once or twice. But generally speaking, I simply enjoy what I'm doing in the time I've been given.

For each one of us, life is a question of priorities and choices - and attitude...

The biblical story of Martha and Mary is often quoted to suggest that doing work is a lesser choice than spending time with Jesus. And well it may be, but hey, he had to eat some time. And don't forget that it was Martha who invited him into her home in the first place! The issue, as I see it, is that she took her eyes off the purpose, her work became a chore and she complained.

It's less often mentioned that there was a second, subsequent time where John records that "Martha served." No mention of complaining, no mention of reproof. Why not? Because the work she performed made it possible for Jesus to minister, and for others to receive from him. I'm absolutely confident that Martha would have gotten some special time with her good friend, just later in the day!

The question then, in the midst of all my busy-ness is, "What is my motivation?" Do I live to work or do I work to live?

Are all my efforts in order to please Him, or to make Me happy? Do I work to fulfil His purpose or my own agenda? Is it about Me and what I can do by myself, or is it about Him and what He can do through me?

Paul told the Ephesians they were created in Christ Jesus for the purpose of doing good works! And there is an eternal reward, but in my multiple activities, am I drawn closer to Him, or do I find myself - or those closest to me - resenting the cost?

I have to be honest: Is my life about the work of the Lord, or is it about the Lord of the work?

[ Footnote: A conundrum is:

           1. a riddle, esp one whose answer makes a play on words

           2. a puzzling question or problem ]