My confession

Hi, my name is Patty and I have been a bad blogger.

But honestly, there are so few people out there who are really good at it. I have to admit, we were reluctant to venture into the world of blogs since there was the definite potential of not keeping up with it. The things we like about it can be achieved by maintaining a website but we don't really have time for that either. Besides, that's more Jeff's department than mine. A blog is easier for me since I don't have to learn how to build a web page; I can just use this template and voila!

I suppose it's not such a bad thing that I haven't blogged in a while. It means that we have a life again and I have a part time job. Many of our friends and folks in our church community live within walking distance of our place. So the move has been good. We have settled into our place; a very cute little mill house duplex and we found right away, after having more social time in the first couple of days of being here that this was the right move. Being closer to Jeff's work has also been a benefit and gives him more flexibility to come home for a day if work is slow. It would be great if he could find something that allowed him to be home every night but thus far, nothing with comparable pay has come available. We're still on the look out for that since he will be wanting to be home in the evenings this time next year when I start back to school.

The church we are going to is small and their focus is community. It has been wonderful to have people around who just love hanging out. One of the benefits of hanging out with this bunch is that many are very much into organic and health food and one couple are small time organic farmers. They primarily go to the local farmer's market to sell their goods but they are also very generous beyond that and have shared many yummy garden goodies with us. They grow many veggies that I've never heard of or never had like tuscan kale. It has been a fun taste adventure!

The area that we live in is called Marysville and it claims to be Canada's oldest in tact mill village. For your viewing pleasure, here are some pics of our new place.

This is the front of our place...

and the back.

Georges Island

Our blog today will entail a little bit of a history lesson as it is a historical place that we went to visit.

Georges Island is an island in the middle of the Halifax harbour and is part of the city's defense system. I was telling my mom about this little excursion we took on our anniversary weekend. Halifax has a lot of history and one of the key attractions of the city is Citadel Hill which is the main point of defense for the city. As it's name suggests, the Citadel is situated on top of a hill that provides a view of the whole city and harbour thus making Halifax a very well defended city. It is a point of interest that the none of the cannons in Halifax have ever been fired in combat. Back in the day, Halifax harbour was defended by 5 separate forts that formed various triangles making it virtually impenetrable. And if you happen to get by all the forts and dozens of artillery cannons, then you had an entire armada of warships greeting you in the bay. Needless to say, no attack was ever even attempted. However, in 1917, the Halifax Explosion leveled about 1/3 of the city when two ships collided in the harbour, one loaded to the gills will sensitive explosives and gasoline, killing about 2000 people. If you're not familiar with the story, it's staggering. There is an excellent movie (if you're able to find it) called Shattered City about the event.

Georges Island is a very steep island also making it great for seeing ships as they come into the harbour and they would have to get past Georges Island before they could even think about getting near the city. But that little island was so well defended itself, an enemy ship would have a hard time getting past all the artillery.

Here are some pictures from our visit:

There is a steep ditch between where this picture was taken and the walls themselves.


In the ditch between the interior walls.


One of the underground ammunition and defense tunnels. The windows are peep holes into the huge ditches for riflemen so even if the steep banks and thick outer walls were breached, they'd be met with close range gun fire from all sides while trying to scale the 30 feet wall into the fort's interior.


Inside one of the cannon rooms. This is part of the lower battery cannons.These monsters lobbed a 400 lb shot over 2 miles, and could accurately hit a target of only 16 sq. feet, making any ship an easy target. There are 8 of these large cannons and 8 smaller ones. In case you happen to get past the first 16 guns, the back of the island had 8 more smaller cannons and a Martello tower facing the city side.


The previous picture shows the size of the cannon with relation to people. This one shows a bit of the track they needed to help move it into firing position. There were usually 17 men stationed at each of the cannon rooms.


The massive door leading into the cannon room.


As with any maritime fortress, a lighthouse was necessary. The last lighthouse keeper and his family lived here up until the 1970's when they switched to an automated system.


Looking over to the Halifax side of the harbour. The green, grassy hill area you can see in the background behind that ugly tall building is Citadel Hill.


One of several historical reinactors. The bridge pictured behind him is one of 2 bridges joining Halifax to Dartmouth.

They usually only open the island to visitors once a year as much of it is crumbling. Many of the tunnels we weren't able to go into as they just are not safe. There were also other buildings (like the jail) we couldn't go into due the growth of some very dangerous fungi and spores. I had read in the paper later in the week that due to the great success of that weekend's turnout, they had decided to open George's Island more frequently and maybe restore some it too.

Life is like a book...

"Life is like a box of chocolates." That simple phrase has become among one of the most quoted lines from a movie. (For those who may not know which movie that is, it's Forest Gump)

Though it is a neat metaphor for never knowing what life will hand you, just like a variety box of chocolates, I'd prefer to think of life as a book. Your life comprising of a series of chapters that becomes your "book" and as with any real book, there are wonderful chapters and sad chapters and so-so chapters and adventurous chapters but each one builds on the other thus compiling what you know as your life.

We are in the process of ending one chapter and starting a new one. At the end of this month, we will be moving. This is not news to you...we've been talking about it for months. For me particularly, I don't process the idea until it is actually happening. I know that I'm moving and finishing up at my jobs and my class is now complete and there are a lot of loose ends that are being tied up so it is now becoming a reality for me that I will have a new home and a new chapter in my book. It really hit me this past weekend when we were up that way to visit and hang out with family and also venture to the city we will very soon call home to find a place to live. We were hanging out with some folks who in a very short amount of time have come to think that we're pretty neat and that always makes you feel welcome when there's people around who like you! Even the last couple of days, Jeff has pointed out several times when he'd have been able to come home for the night or evening; just the way his loads were running or not running would have given him that flexibility if we had been living in Fredericton. Not too much longer now!

Not to mention that we are super stoked about the place we found to rent! For a change, it's not an apartment in a multi-unit complex but rather a very cute, turn of the century style red brick mill house. There are only 2 units per building (technically they're duplexes, though they are not ugly like the vast majority of the duplexes that come to mind in the Maritimes). The area in which we will be living, Marysville (suburb of Fredericton, NB), had a cotton mill and all around is a large neighborhood of the houses where the workers would have lived. I'm most excited about having a small deck to put a BBQ grill on and washer/dryer hook-ups in the basement so I won't have to use the coin operated ones anymore. No more lost money down the machine's hungry gullet. I know...they seem like silly things to be excited about but I am. Once we get moved, we'll post some pics of the new place so y'all can "see" it too.

South Africa

This past May marks 20 years since I and my family emigrated from South Africa.

Hard to believe that it has been that long. Perhaps it was my dad and brother's recent trip to South Africa that has prompted this quest to know the country of my birth but that would not be entirely true. I have been desiring to know more about South Africa for a couple of years now. I have felt gypped since I moved from there before I really understood the complexities of the country's history but I have also felt gypped here in Canada and the lack of knowledge I possess about this country's history. My quest is to get to know the country of my birth and the country I now call home.

My dad and brother's recent trip to SA (South Africa will be abbreviated for the rest of this post) sparked a small measure of jealously but a whole lot of admiration as my brother, though he was born there, was too young when we left to remember much. I was glad for him to be able to experience a trip back to the "homeland" with my dad but it also continues to wind the mysterious tale of the man and his exodus from his country that is my dad. Though it continues to be a mystery to me, as I read and explore and discover more about the complicated and conflicted history, SA is still the land of my birth and I know so little about it. I am finding that the rumors I have heard about it's not so glamorous history might actually be true.

I was very young in age and in mind when we left and I have asked the question, "Why didn't I know? Why didn't I understand?" Looking back on the scenario now, I doubt that my 11 year old mind would have been able to grasp the magnitude of the events going on around me. I knew that there were differences between white people and black people...I went to a segregated school, whites only. I knew that I was confused by what I was being taught in school and the efforts my parents were making to try and teach us to treat everyone, no matter the color of their skin, with respect. I remember being fascinated with language and when it came time to learn the local tribal language, Zulu, in school, I was thrilled. But I also can remember hearing either from my teacher or my classmates that we were learning the black's language simply to be able to insult them further, in their own language no less as if insulting them in our own language and actions was not enough.

A while ago, my dad loaned me a book, an autobiography of a young black man who grew up in some the worst living conditions in SA. I started reading this book with the naive anticipation of learning more about my birth country from another perspective. Another perspective is certainly what I got! I am both deeply disturbed and intrigued at this young man's story. The more I read, the more I realize that the experiences he recounts where basically happening right in my back yard but I knew nothing about it. What would I have done, at 11 years old, with knowledge of such deplorable conditions?! Perhaps my innocent ignorance saved my sanity.

The Tails of Katie & Seamus

Aha! See? Look, Seamus...I figured out how to make it work!

Katie, are you sure you know how to use that thing?

No...but it's not making any crazy noises...I'm just having fun chasing the things on the screen! Ooooh, almost got that one....almost got that one too...

Won't Girl-People be mad and spray us with the waterbottle?

Oh, Seamus, live a little...besides you get sprayed every other day for something.

I do not...okay...maybe I do...but I can't help that she doesn't get up when she's supposed to. We have to be fed when we're ready to be fed, ya know?

Very true...and you do such a good job of getting her up. How do you do it?

Well, I start by jumping up on the bed and walk all the way up until I reach her head...

Yes? Then what?

Then I start nudging under her chin like I want to be petted...we cats can never have too much loving. She usually pushes me away (I think my whiskers might tickle her nose) and says something about it's not time for breakfast or it's not time for her to get up. But I just keep coming back until she gets up.

Who does she think she is?! The boss of the house? She should know by now that we rule the house.

I know. She's a good girl-people but hasn't yet figured out that we make the rules. Anyway, if she doesn't get up right away when I want her to, then I start climbing up on the window ledge in the bedroom and knock the lamp over while I'm at it (that usually makes her spray me with water).

But sometimes, she still doesn't get up. Then what?

Then I go back to the nudging and meowing and she will keep pushing me away and usually has sprayed me a few times by then. Eventually, she gets up but I wait by the foot of the bed to make sure she's actually getting up.

Doesn't she step on you?

Sometimes she trips over me but it's worth it because once she's up, we get fed!

Mmmm....food....I'm hungry...when Girl-People getting home anyway? Oh, wait...I think I hear...something outside the door...maybe it's...oooop! Gotta go! She's home! Food!

Life Imitates Art

When life imitates art, sometimes it makes you wonder what art people are imitating.

I saw a guy strolling through our neighbourhood who was decked out in a top hat with bright green hair and a loud burgundy suit. If his sole goal was to be noticed, he surely achieved that! I remember seeing that same guy coming into the coffee shop where I work and he was wearing the same wildly crazy outfit. He's been sighted at various bus stops wearing his top hat but a fairly normal suit to go with it. Really makes you wonder what goes through people's heads when they buy such outfits and really seem to think they look good. It's a bit on par with the talent shows on TV these days where contestants are shocked when they are rejected after their embarrassingly bad audition, "But my friends all say I'm a great singer/dancer/whatever-the-talent-might-be! You don't know talent when you see it!" And they almost always storm off in tears or the waterworks start shortly after leaving the stage. There is something to be said for friends who are able to be honest and tell you that you look ridiculous when you try to leave the house with bright green hair, wearing a top hat and a burgundy suit. If I ever try to do anything that crazy, I probably need to be institutionalized. "Okay, it's time for you to go and see the nice people in white suits. They'll give you an I-hug-me jacket and you'll have a padded room to play in. Everything's going to be just fine. Then, when you're feeling better, they're going to show you a better style with no top hats and loud hair and suits that clash." I can understand eclectic or retro or hippie styles; I'm not trying to squelch this man's expression of his personality through his clothing but in our culture, some things are weird and I'm afraid, that is just plain weird. In the words of Undercover Brother... "I'm a firm believer that everyone should do their own thing, but that boy should never do his own thing!"

An Update on Us

On a recent home time trip over to PEI, I realized as we caught up with some folks that I have not been giving much in the way of updates on our happenings nor have I sent out some email reminders. My bad and my apologies. :( So here it is.

We have been considering for a long time about making a move to Fredericton. [For those not from or living in Canada, Fredericton is still on the east coast of Canada but about 6-7 hours from where we are currently living.] "Why move again? Can't you stay in one place for a while?" Well, we thought we might be here for a bit longer than this but the reasons for moving just haven't worked out as well as we had hoped. We moved here primarily for me to go to nursing school but alas! I am still on the waiting list for that. The church we tried to be apart of had a hard time working us into their mix and our effort to become part of that community became an effort at trying to enter through a locked door without a key. As well, Jeff's terminal for his job is based in New Brunswick so getting home for his days off are a real challenge and become a 5 day plan. On his travels through NB (New Brunswick), he had caught up with some old friends that we knew lived in Fredericton but they had slipped off our radar for a while. He decided to call them up one day and stop in for a visit. We then began to wonder if maybe moving to Fredericton might be an option since nothing else is really tying us to the Halifax area. After weighing all the options and realizing that school here would be a longer wait than we had originally anticipated, why not move?

Over the last few months, we have been full-steam ahead. Currently, we are in process of finding accomodations, exploring both buying a house or renting if a house purchase is too far out of reach at this point. I have put an application in to NBCC for their Practical Nursing program and was accepted but due to a mix up in addresses, I received the acceptance letter after the confirmation date so I missed the opportunity for this coming fall. I am, however, wondering if I ought not pursue the BScRN at UNB and be able to work as an RN right out of university. It may be worth the extra time and money as most nursing positions here are requiring BScRN's these days in spite of the nursing shortage.

Fredericton would also offer us a church that focuses on relationship and building community; two things we value and have not had since moving from SC. An added bonus is that we would be geographically closer to Jeff's terminal and that would make his ability to get home for his days off a lot easier and it might even allow him to make it home on days when he's just camped out at the terminal.

On this rare day off from both jobs, I figured I would take this opportunity to finish this update and get it posted. Check back periodically and I will try to remember to send out an email update when I post something new.

Skin has sprung...

Today was the first really warm day. By Southern US standards, it's warm enough to play outside but not so hot you're dripping in sweat from the humidity. By Canadian standards, it's the first day that all the girls of all sizes start letting out their lily white skin to be kissed by the sun like a Sunkist orange.

I'm guilty of reaching for the capris this morning too but those by definition, expose mid-calf down. Scandalous, I know. It always amazes me, this time of year, just how much skin some women are willing to let hang out. And some hang more than others. I had stopped in to a grocery store this afternoon and needed to hit the bathroom first. I walked in to a bathroom full of tweens all of whom had grabbed their underwear to pass as shorts. One gal had her cut offs rolled up so high, I thought she might cut off circulation to her legs! After watching them spend a good 15 minutes primping and preening to show off for all those tween boys who frequent the local grocery store as their prime spot to "check out the hot girls", I had to chuckle. How grown up they try to look and little idea they have of what being grown up is all about. Their idea of being grown up is gained from their "music" heroes who flaunt and flash their goods on stage and screen to make a few more dollars than working at McDonalds. They are educated in all the immoral ideals of our society but don't have a sweet clue about self-respect. If they really were as grown up as they think, they'd take a big dose of modesty and realize you can dress nicely without essentially walking around naked. In other cultures, clothing is not a cultural precedent but we don't live in the rainforest. Clothing is required in our culture and there are plenty nice clothes out there that cover up all the "naughty bits". Besides, if you let your thong hang out, you might get a sunburn on your plumber's crack.

Friends: Fluffy, furry and otherwise

I can't say that I have come up with any new and profound thoughts about friends/friendship that hasn't already likely been thought or said but I have been thinking about the role that friends: fluffy, furry or otherwise have had in my life over the last little while.

What sparked the whole thought process was when I had caught up with a really close friend of mine online one night and we chatted for a bit and then she got the brilliant idea of chatting in person on the phone. That whole occurrence is a rather rare one in my world. I am quite capable of picking up the phone and calling any of my friends as they are of picking up the phone and calling me. The reality is that we don't as often as we should and that's okay. It's nice to have friends far away whom I can call and chat with and listen to the cadence of their mild Southern drawl. It would be far better if I had friends here that I could call on and hang out with and share life with. Not for lack of trying but more for lack of hitting my head up against a brick wall. One thing I have learned in my short years on this planet is you can't make someone be your friend that doesn't want to be your friend. It could be any number of reasons but I have discovered that most of the time the root issue is selfishness. I have been on the "I don't really want to befriend you" side of the equation too and that was my motivation. Pure selfishness.


So if your people friends are few, who else will be your friend? Enter the fluffy and furry varieties of friends. We adopted our first cat just a week or so before Jeff started back on the road with the company he is currently driving for. Seamus (pronounced "Shay-mus") has been a joy to have around and has provided endless hours of entertainment. As with a person-friend, it took some time to get to know him; his quirks (he doesn't like salmon), his cutenesses (his favorite way to lie on the floor is splayed out on his back with his feet curled at the toes), and his annoying habits (beating around in his litter box for far longer than necessary seemingly trying to find that infamous route to China). Seamus has been a very loyal furry friend but he is just a cat. He adds an element to life that is different from the people friendships. Funny thing, the relationship is different for him. He was becoming lonely, even though I'm his people friend. He didn't have another furry friend to play with. It was heart-wrenching to listen to him sitting in the window on a balmy summer's night meowing his heart out to the stray and neighbor cats, yearning for the attention and affection from another cat. In December, we adopted our second cat, Katie. She has turned out to be the perfect match and addition to our little furry family. She is a very nurturing girl and loves to gives kisses in the form of licks and rubbing noses. She and Seamus, though the initial meeting was hostile, have grown to love each other as friends and they play quite happily together and are quite content to sit next to each other and wait for me to walk through the door at the end of my work day. Now I wonder what Seamus meows about when he sits up in the window. Maybe he's telling the other cats tales of his new playmate. ;0)

Our furry friends have been more constant companions for me since they live in our apartment and I am here the most. Jeff relies on the fluffy variety of friend for most of his companionship. If you have seen the movie Castaway, the character of Wilson will give you a better understanding of Jeff's life on the road. Wilson is a volleyball that Tom Hanks' character finds while he's stranded on his remote island. This volleyball, an inanimate object, becomes a very real friend for him and when he loses Wilson while making his final escape attempt, we are witness to his mourning over the loss of his "friend". Your initial reaction might be, "that's just crazy!" or "only children keep toys around and call them friends". Maybe so but if it helps you get through the tougher times in life, how crazy can it really be? Think how different that movie would have been without the character of Wilson. Dare I say it would have been rather boring. In Jeff's case, he has created personalities for his stuffed toys; a fat little sheep named Gouda and my old monkey hand puppet from when I was a child, named Mutebi, 'Tebi for short. The personalities and adventures he has created for them help him deal with the endless hours of solitude while on the road are the stuff kid's books are made of. Don't get me wrong, he loves driving a truck but he is a type A personality and he thrives on social activity to stimulate and revive him. When he can't get that in the form of people, he creates it for his fluffy friends. Imagination is so underrated these days.

I'm not trying to make an argument in favour of being able to survive in this world without people friends, not at all. I am very much a believer that we were created to be part of a community of believers and have other people around to be friends to and to receive friendship from. But in the absence of the people variety of friends, I believe God allows us to befriend the furry variety and the fluffy variety to broaden our circle of friends.

A comment about comments

Thank you to all who emailed and let me know that the "post a comment" button wasn't working.I have rectified the problem...I hope. Please let me know if it is still not working.

I have not been working on the blog as consistently as I'd like and Jeff has been kept running over the last few weeks so he hasn't been able to keep up with the blog either. But he has been working on some articles and what he's shared with me about them, they should make for an interesting read. I really need to make sure the comments link works as we'd love to read the comments y'all will have and want to share. It is surprising that Jeff being such a social person would even want to take on such a job as trucking and though he very much dislikes the fact that he is out on the road more than he is home and is not able to hang out with friends and family at his leisure, the many hours of solitude give him plenty of opportunity for his other passion...thinking, analyzing what he hears on talk radio and other teachings he can get his hands on. He's got several articles that he's working on and whenever he can get internet access (which is few and far between) he will post them as he is able.

A work in progress...

Hi! Here we are...online. We're still working out the kinks on the layout and getting it just the way we'd like it to be so please bear with us.

We're hoping that the blog medium will help us keep in touch with y'all a bit more consistently and make it easier for our overseas friends to keep in touch with our happenings without having large emails to open up. It will also give us a way to share some of the things that we think about...primarily Jeff's domain. He has posted some articles already and hopes to add to that as he's able given his internet access is limited at best on the road.

As you know, we love a good laugh and love to share funny items when they've been shared with us. You'll find in the right sidebar a links to four very clean and very funny voice over videos to some very old Jesus movies. Take a look and enjoy the humor! For more humor and to share in Jeff's 2 minutes of fame, check out a local comic duo named Luke & Jock. You can look them up on youtube or if you have us on your Facebook page, the link is on our main post page.

Well, that's all for now! Love to hear from you!

The Spudwick Papers Dec 08

It occurred to me the other day that I haven't sent out a Spuddy Papers in far too long and have had a couple people send me emails asking where it is! So here we are!

It would be safe to say that life has just been rolling along, nothing much exciting to report thus no Papers. A factor in the equation has also been that my free time has dwindled as I have acquired a different full time job...one that pays a bit better than Tim's...but I still work at Tim's on the days I don't work for the DND. Also, I am fulfilling a dream I've had since childhood and learning sign language at the local community college two nights a week. Jeff is still with the same trucking company and for the most part, still enjoys driving for them. They manage to still keep him rolling but their inefficiency can be trifling.

Over the months that Jeff has been driving for this company, we have discovered that living in Dartmouth and working for a company based in Woodstock does not maximize his miles and ultimately, his paychecks. After much deliberation and prayer and weighing other factors, we have decided to move from Dartmouth to the Fredericton/Woodstock area in the summer time. I have put in my application to NBCC for their nursing program and should hear back from them sometime in February.

Seems like there is not much else to write about so we'll keep this edition short and sweet!

Every Member Ministry Without the Pressure

by Jeff Witty 01.07.04

Those who claim to follow Christ ought to actually walk with him. That implies some sort of forward movement. In the Gospels, Jesus took his disciples all over the place, and not just for their overall cardiovascular health and emotional well-being. It has been said, and is worth repeating, "You cannot stay where you are and go with God." God is constantly on the move and calls his people, the church, to be the same. In the church, every member is a minister, and every minister has a ministry.


But Jesus never pressures anyone, never guilt-trips anyone, and never pulls the old "Christian duty" song and dance to get them to do anything. In fact, when it came to his followers, he even offered them opportunities to leave if things were getting to difficult for them or if the concerns of their life didn't allow them to truly follow him [eg., Mat 8; John 6]. However, the ones who did not leave or sit on the sidelines became the ones who really got to know him and the ones he trusted to found his church after his resurrection. In God's Kingdom there are only participants, no spectators. In the church, however, this is often not the case. Jesus, on several occasions [e.g., Mat 13,21,25; Luke 13], explained to his disciples about his Kingdom. In each of these cases, he paints a word-picture of ineffective people loitering around the church. You might argue that these verses are being taken out of context, and I agree that the immediate context is primarily a salvation issue, but I must then ask, "What is salvation?" In short, salvation is not simply a change of position in regards to God, a one-time deal to get to your tuchas out of hell. Salvation is the birth of new life, entry into a new Kingdom, where God is the chief authority, where his agenda is the only acceptable agenda. You put on a new life, where you are a priest in total devotion to God and his body of believers. You finally have purpose and meaning in your life, something to fulfill--your Destiny. Not a ritual or obligation, but a true joy and a pure thrill. You cannot say, "Thank you, Lord, for the salvation...See ya at the pearly gates. Ciao, baby!" Let's take a different angle here: you just signed on with the Armed Forces. Your date for boot camp comes up and you show up on time. But then, once your get your stylish new camo fatigues, you set them on the shelf, walk up to the drill sergeant, thank him for the new clothes and proceed to tell him you'll see him after their return from battle in a few years. Doesn't make much sense, does it? In fact, it would seem preposterous to even conceive of someone doing that. Why, then, would it not seem even more outrageous to see such behaviour from those who receive the very death of Jesus and then take off down the happy bunny-trail to personal agendas? God has called each of us to a life serving in the field. There are no cush-cush government jobs is the Kingdom, no retirement dates, no pension plans, no stockpiles of vacation time, no weekend leave...Once you are a priest, you are a priest for life. It is not a 9 to 5, Monday to Friday deal. This is what it means to be saved, truly.** It is to be handed a new lease on life and then to go out and live it! You are welcome to come and have a seat with us, even if you want to do absolutely nothing with God for the remainder of your natural life. We'll be truly glad you've come and be happy to help you in any way that we can--and we'll never pressure you to contribute, not a single minute of your time or dollar of your finances. But it sure would be a sad thing for you to miss out on all the fun. Picture this: you have been waiting for your team to make it to the final game for 15 seasons, since you were just a young child and could first pronounce their team name. You have even purchased tickets for all five of your best friends--they cost a fortune but they are the best seats in the entire stadium. Everyone is packed in your SUV and raring to go. You even painted your SUV with team colours just for this game. As you drive up to the stadium, excitement is in the air. The roar of 80,000 fans pours out of the open roof. You've been listening to the pregame show all the way there and it is going to be, unquestionably, the game of a lifetime. Air Force jets scream by on a ceremonial low-pass overhead, the fireworks can be seen for miles in every direction...it's a madhouse! Even the President himself is there. Multiplied millions watch on TV worldwide. You drop your friends off at the gate and go to park the car. Amazingly, someone is pulling out of the very first spot near the main gate! How could this be?!? Your heart races as you screech your tires to get there before anyone notices it is open, securing parking so close to the gate that people would have paid a hundred and fifty extra dollars for it. You put the car in park, turn off the radio and lights, put on that funky team head-gear-thing that your spouse nearly died when you purchased and then..............you sit there. You sit there, nothing else. Just sit there. For 4 hours you simply sit in your vehicle and stare off into the night. You watch as tens of thousands pass through the gates, not 25 feet from where you sit. You can hear the raging crowd, smell the savoury concessions, feel the excitement and the thunderclap under your feet when the teams score and the crowd erupts like an 8.4 on the Richter scale. You squeeze up to the top of your seat, but the scoreboard is just out of sight. There is nothing keeping you in the car, but you just sit---a truly odd place for someone in the home team's starting line-up... So, yes, you are welcome not to join in the excitement. We will love and accept you just the same. And no one will break your car window to drag you out onto the field. But what a pity. You were destined to be great. God has said, "I have prepared great works for you in advance and I have designed you to accomplish them, and not to fail" (Paul's letter to the church at Ephesus, 2:10).

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Note: **Since many I know are, theologically speaking, somewhat conservative Baptist-ish, I should make a very brief note here about the rampant abuse of the phrase "Eternal Security". In Christ, our salvation is sure, to be sure, but it is no license for laziness...or sloth (thought I'd throw that good King James word in there for effect). If you are saying with your words, "Yes, I am saved," yet with your actions are saying, "God who?", I'd urge you not to expect to be in the right line on the last day. Perhaps a revisit to Matthew 25:31-46 should clear up any misconceptions for you. The hour is late; there is no time for games. If your life is still all about you, then, technically (and practically, for that matter) speaking, you’re not saved. But there is this hope for all of us: we can be saved. Even if we have been trying to pull one over on God himself, he waits like the father of the disobedient runaway son, ever eyeing the horizon for our return, arms wide open, banquet table stacked to the nines.