This is a post I wrote almost a year ago now about our dining room table, a piece of furniture well-used. It is now situated in a new space at our new place, which feels just right. I have hosted a couple dinners now, just this week the birthday party of one of my best friends, who used the table as a platform for her fantastic sense of humour and stellar story-telling skills. I believe in the dining room table.
I’m writing this in our dining room at a table, a holy gift.
We purchased this table thanks to the generosity of our Barrie Free Methodist Church family. On our last Sunday there, before we were to head to Toronto, they gave us notes of encouragement and gifts of money as a send-off. We were overwhelmed by this show of love–I wept for three days straight after reading the cards and still get teary when I think of it. We knew instantly that we would use the money for an item that would extend the legacy our church had offered to us over the years – one of love, hospitality, and a sense of home.
This table, upon purchase, was instantly put to good use. Right away, it showed signs of wear and tear as we welcomed guests into our new space and to the table. I always suggest we meet here instead of going out for coffee or tea. Already this table is the…
I am one of four siblings. Being neither oldest nor youngest nor the only boy, I’ve been tempted from time to time to succumb to Middle Child Syndrome. But my siblings are so fantastic, it makes it very hard to have a martyr complex.
These guys were my first friends.
They were also my first enemies. But that’s also the point. Continue reading →
High stress in the Cockram family tonight. Girls have big projects due yesterday and I’m revamping my talk for Saturday for the 50th time. And here we are when everything is due, between the three of us, we can’t understand the instructions, can’t find a stapler, the printer ink runs out, we’re in each other’s way, the hands on the clock move faster, the phones are ringing and beeping, and no one has the emotional resources to help each other.
Between us we’re quivery chinned or frantic in the eyes and all feeling slightly car sick. I stopped speaking in full sentences a long time ago because, do I have to?
Then Fifi walks by and accidentally gives me a hug, because hugging is a habit to her. She didn’t mean to, though, and pulls away to return to her stress. But that tiny act of reaching out is contagious and she comes back when I call her and we promise to get it together.
Hugs, so cute and so powerful, one of the biggest reminders of what’s important and one of the best ways to say “you’re important.”
Where’s J-M in the midst of all this? Out getting printer ink of course and it’s taking him a really, really long time. He’s a smart man to know just when to leave. But he’s missing out on these hugs. Now look at me, I’m smiling and getting my kids ice water and giving them kisses on the forehead.
I’m going to talk about hugs on Saturday instead of beauty maybe. Everything is going to be just fine.
When I missed the Canada Post deadline to send out Christmas cards for the sixth year in a row, I decided to call it a passive boycott to make it seem less lazy. I had no reason not to send them other than something had to go to preserve my sanity in this overly busy season and that was the first on the list, followed closely by anything resembling a craft, and door-to-door caroling. (Gift-wrapping was in the running.)
If it’s been years in a row that you don’t do a thing, at what point does one scratch it off one’s list permanently? Christmas is so weird like that. It’s a hopeful, overly nostalgic season, and so I retain hope. (If I send you a card next year, please frame it.)
But I sure did love receiving the cards and newsletters from friends. Now newsletters are vintage, aren’t they? Those who send them are preserving a bit of our past that we’re often so quick to dismiss – good, old-fashioned communication. A piece of paper to grab onto with whole sentences put together to form paragraphs. Those paragraphs give us an overview of the lives of our friends – many parts of which we may have witnessed or experienced with them and it gives context and a sense of continuum. We humans are in the process of building, moving forward, journeying, progressing. Sometimes our understanding is so present- and future-tense. Looking back, even at the not-too-distant past can have the effect of grounding us.
This is why I thought I’d try my hand at an e-newsletter. There’s no fancy or festive border here, no stamp on the envelope, no searching for your address, nothing but a synopsis of the Cockrams’ 2014. Here are the headlines.
Man turns 40, throws vanity concert, 150 friends indulge him
I’m writing this in our dining room at a table, a holy gift.
We purchased this table thanks to the generosity of our Barrie Free Methodist Church family. On our last Sunday there, before we were to head to Toronto, they gave us notes of encouragement and gifts of money as a send-off. We were overwhelmed by this show of love–I wept for three days straight after reading the cards and still get teary when I think of it. We knew instantly that we would use the money for an item that would extend the legacy our church had offered to us over the years – one of love, hospitality, and a sense of home.
This table, upon purchase, was instantly put to good use. Right away, it showed signs of wear and tear as we welcomed guests into our new space and to the table. I always suggest we meet here instead of going out for coffee or tea. Already this table is the hub of stories and laughter with our friends, new and old. Continue reading →
My friend Christa said she would be thrilled to teach me a recipe and how about the whole family come over on a Sunday afternoon! The girls can cook while the boys watch football. Which is like blowing off the dust on the sexology file, How Men and Women Should Spend their Sundays. Hey, why not? This could be *retro fun!
For those of you who know Christa, you probably think of her as a gentle soul, calm and patient, the perfect temperament for teaching a novice to cook. As I’ve gotten to know Christa, however, what others might mistake for a shy demeanor is actually really, really good listening skills. I was looking forward to being in her company and listening to her this time. This Sunday, the roles would be reversed in more ways than one! Continue reading →
I had registered a new business the day I unregistered from Big Village back in February, but it was just this weekend that I pressed PUBLISH on the site and made it known that I’d be jumping back in the game of looking for customers. I’m an entrepreneur once more. How appropriate since its Small Business Week in Canada! I’m inclined to thank Canada, or more specifically BDC, for the grand welcome.
Have you ever noticed that my Happy Birthday cards turn into Thank You cards? I go to give you a birthday blessing and I find myself thanking you for all you do for me.
Our relationship is very one-sided in many ways, I know. I can’t believe all the things I get away with. I can’t believe I NEVER cook. And while a lot of friends say their husbands cook, it generally means they share the responsibility with their husband. But when I show up at a potluck, of which we’ve attended several in the past little while, and people ask me either what I brought or how I made it, I just say, “Ask John-Mark.”
And they’re all, “Wow! Even church dinners!”
I might as well admit that I don’t ever do the laundry either. I remember at one point you trying to unload that chore on me. I would drag it out, maybe tackling a load when I had some free time. When you ran out of undergarments consistently, you re-adopted the chore. I just happen to believe that folding laundry is the excuse you need to watch Dukes of Hazard reruns – enjoy!
When my friends complain about their husbands never helping around the house, I can’t relate at all. In fact, I will most likely take the husbands’ side and suggest that maybe their husbands have other ways of contributing to the homestead? Like facilitating good conversations around the dinner table? Maintaining the family social calendar? No?
You’re turning 38 today. This came as a relief to all of us, after last year’s birthday, when my Mom sang you her favourite cheery birthday song:
A Happy Birthday to you!
A Happy Birthday to you!
May Jesus be near,
All of the year!
A Happy Birthday to you!
A Happy Birthday to you!
The best one you’ve ever had!
Except she accidentally inserted “last” instead of “best” in that final verse, which unnerved us. Here you are one year older and her, not a bit of a prophet.
You’re slightly younger than me and you never hesitate to rub it in the other eight months of the year when we are separated by one number. But you, my dear, have aged quite significantly in your own way this year. You got yourself a sleep apnea machine. I was getting worried listening to your halted breathing at night, with pauses up to several seconds at a time! You went for a test at the sleep clinic to discover that your heart would pause consistently and dangerously in your sleep. Scary stuff! So they sent you home with a CPAP machine and our lives will never be the same. I find it hard to believe that side effects of this machine are supposed to be a healthier, longer life simply by being transformed into an 80-year old robot every night.
But this year has been a great one, hasn’t it? I’ve loved watching you embrace ministry with passion, getting excited about seeing people move closer to Jesus. This is something on your brain all the time. You even had a dream about it, getting uncharacteristically charismatic, running up and down the aisles of the church and yelling at the congregation, “Is Jesus engraved on your hearts?! Well, is he?!” Aren’t dreams reserved for unicorns and chance meetings with fav celebrities in space? Anyway, I suggest you try your dream out next Sunday and shake things up a bit.
I love your strength of character. You have really great, healthy boundaries. You never hesitate to show love and respect to others, but are not taken in by manipulative behaviour or excessive demands. You are steady and calm when emotions escalate and are always willing to engage in reasonable dialogue. I just wish once in a while you’d let me buy a great pair of shoes even if it’s not in the budget.
Although you’ve earned the nicknames, Spock and Stoneface, in the past, it’s not that you’re without emotion. Recently, on a family trip to Toronto, Sophia asked you questions from her Coke or Pepsi quiz book. This is the ultimate pre-teen girly book with “tons of questions for you and your friends to answer!” We were all interested to know that, given the choice, you’d go for a mountain ski resort vacation over an African safari. We were delighted to learn that you’d choose flying instead of invisibility as your super power. When Sophia asked what makes you cry,” you said, “When people are honest and real about the pain in their life.” There was a moment of silence and reflection in the car before Sophia carried on, “So rock and roll or country music?”
Know what else I appreciate? How supportive you’ve been during this whole fast! For the past 36 days, you haven’t complained at all about making dinner for the family minus one. You’ve encouraged me to seek the Lord about this and listened as I babble on about what I’m learning or wishing I was learning. You’ve prayed with me too. I know it’s a huge inconvenience to you, since you believe so strongly in family dinner… but you’ve understood it’s importance to me and have been such a wonderful support, keeping me accountable and strong. You are such a gift to me. And on your birthday.
Tonight we’ll go to your sister’s home to celebrate. You share a birthday with her son, Edmund, who turns 4 today. My biggest birthday wish for him is to turn into a Godly man… just like you. I’m relieved it’s not a potluck, because I’d hate to make you prepare food on your birthday.
Day 31 of my fast and I feasted. J-M brought home some really delicious grapes last night, crunchy and sweet. I was good and waited till morning and then I ate almost all of them, a whole bag’s worth. Then I had a giant bowl of Mini Wheats, which he’d also bought last night and I was also thrilled to eat this morning. But I felt stuffed and all through lunch too. I don’t like this feeling anymore. It used to be a common occurrence. The fast has shown me that being over-full is worse than hunger pangs (and lasts longer and has a lot of unnecessary guilt associated with it). I was actually looking forward to that hungry place I reach every night now. But in the afternoon, J-M reminded me that the pastors families were invited to a BBQ potluck put on by one of the small groups from our church.
“But I can’t eat!” I whined.
“Don’t eat Friday, then” he said.
“But I wasn’t eating Friday anyway because I was reserving Thursday for my Women’s Ministry Team Appreciation Dinner!”
Then he didn’t say anything.
This is why I’m glad the fast will be over in just nine days.
No more navigating social functions. No more bending the rules, which confuses the issue for me. I thought I’d just stick to the fast for the remaining eight days, but Mallory has her Grade 8 graduation banquet and John-Mark, his birthday. I’m thinking that for the rest of this fast I may be doing a lot of eating. Eating rhymes with cheating.
Let’s talk about this morning instead. If you have never before met God in the morning, gone outside and had praise and worship service with the birds, if you have never embraced the solitude that feels like time stands still, if you’ve never had an audience with your Heavenly Father with no one and nothing else competing for your attention and Him ready to meet you, if you haven’t felt the sun rays roll over you like a celestial embrace, you are missing out on one of the most inspiring times to commune with our Creator. C’mon, if you get up tomorrow morning, I will share him with you. You won’t regret it.
This morning I talked to God about how I love to write and how I love to send out into cyberspace the words that he gives me. I told him how I love to visit my friends and be available day-by-day to those who need it. I thanked him for the opportunities he’s given me whether they’re about to end or continue on indefinitely. I thanked him for my family (I tell them and God all the time I can’t believe they really exist). I thanked him for you. Yes, you. I have so many wonderful, encouraging people in my life and the fact that you show up, that you’re reading this right now, it makes me thankful enough to get teary-eyed.
Then I read 2 Corinthians 3 in The Message. In this passage, Paul is writing to the church at Corinth saying that the people there are the “letter of endorsement” or success of his ministry, having visibly changed hearts because of Christ’s work in their lives.
Your very lives are a letter that anyone can read by just looking at you. Christ himself wrote it – not with ink, but with God’s living Spirit; not chiseled in stone, but carved into human lives…
I love that. Paul has nothing to prove, no need to defend his call, because Christ is doing the work of changing hearts.
And you know what? I want to be a letter–better yet, a book–written by Christ himself. Whether by my words or my actions, I want to demonstrate the glory of God and the love of Christ in my life. Every decision, every turn in the road, every idea, every encounter with someone a new page about God’s faithfulness. The outline would look like this:
Chapter 1 – God is faithful
Chapter 2 – The Lord can be trusted
Chapter 3 – God provides
Chapter 4 – He will see you through
Chapter 5 – The Father knows what you need
Chapter 6 – God is still faithful
Chapter 7 – The Lord is watching over you
Chapter 8 – He cares for you
Chapter 9 – God knows you and loves you
Chapter 10 – Our Father calls to you
Chapter 11 – The Lord will see you through
Chapter 12 – God saw what you ate today, but guess what, he’s still faithful even when you’re not
Based on a True Story 