My Hero

Growing up, children often have heroes. Whether it’s a sports hero, a superhero, or a role model, it seems that kids are always looking up to someone. In terms of a personal hero, I wasn’t sure I had one. My grandpa always came to mind as a possible candidate, but I never really knew why. He lived in our house for ten years, but to be completely honest, I never really spent any time getting to know him. I mean, I liked him as a grandpa. He was nice, and funny, just like my dad. But just being nice and funny don’t usually get you the label ‘hero.’ I guess there was just something about him, but I never knew why he seemed to be atop my list.

I never knew why, until he was gone. The saying that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone is not always applicable, but in this case it was. Looking back, all of the time spent with or around my grandpa had a much bigger impact on me than I ever would have thought. One of the main reasons for this goes back to the fact that I hardly ever spent time just getting to know him. We didn’t talk that much, and when we did, it would just be about day-to-day happenings, not about the important things in life. Yet looking back, he is one of the people who taught me the most about the important things in life. Not because we ever talked about them, but because he lived them.

He lived a cheerful life. My grandpa was a person who always had a smile on his face. Regardless of what was going on, he always seemed to be genuinely content. I’m sure he must have had his bad days, but he never showed it. No matter what the circumstances, his attitude was always positive.

He lived a gentle life. I honestly cannot remember a time when he was ever angry or upset. When we had the occasional family disagreement at the dinner table, he never tried to interject or give any grandfatherly words of wisdom. He never lectured or said things when it wasn’t his place. In any situation, he could always offer a gentle smile that seemed to do the trick.

He lived a selfless life. My grandpa was the kind of person who never wanted to bother anyone, and certainly wouldn’t want you to go out of your way to do something for him. I remember late one night when he came shuffling over from his apartment. My dad had just gotten home from a long week of work and had already gone to bed. He asked if my dad was around, and when I told him that he’d gone to bed already, my grandpa started to head back to his apartment. As he was walking away, I told him that he could wake my dad up if he needed to. Fortunately, he did, and my dad drove him to the hospital where we found out that my grandpa had had a bad heart attack. I’m not sure how long he was over in his apartment that day before he came over to get help, but he didn’t want to bother anyone.

He lived a hardworking life. He showed me the value of hard work, and that work comes before play. I know that throughout his life he worked very hard in the jobs that he had. While living with us, he worked on our property throughout the day, and only rested when he had done what was needed. From mowing the grass, to shoveling the driveway, to maintaining the gardens, he always worked hard to make sure our place was well kept.

He lived a grateful life. Not once did I ever hear my grandpa complain. When we whined about a meal we didn’t like, he kindly thanked my mom for supper and always made sure to say that it was 'jolly good.' Not once did he ever tell us how hard he had it when he was our age. He never mentioned that he was an orphan who had been separated from his siblings and sent to Canada to work, and work hard. He never talked about being treated unfairly, or unjustly. He never told us how spoiled we were to have a family, a home, and plenty of food. Though he had many chances to verbally teach us lessons on matters like being thankful and grateful, he never spoke up. He never spoke up, but from the way he lived, he didn’t need to. The message of his actions were much more powerful than any lectures or reminders he could have given.


He lived a fun life. My grandpa was always a funny guy. Like my dad, he’d been telling jokes for as long as I could remember. He always had a smile on his face, and he always brought a contagious laughter to the supper table no matter the circumstances. I remember visiting him in the nursing home shortly before he went into hospital, at a time when the pain in his neck had been excruciating. He looked to be in pretty rough shape, the worst I’d seen him in up until that point. But when my mom asked how the pain in his neck had been, he just turned and pointed at me and said, “She’s a pain in the neck.” Even when he was suffering, he always knew how to lighten the mood.

He lived a good life. My grandpa spent much of his time outdoors. I love being outside and enjoying nature, and have always felt most connected to God when I’m outside experiencing all that He has made. From the way my grandpa lived, this was evident in his life as well. I loved looking out the back window to see him sitting in the patio area reading a book, or sitting on the bench in the back field with his cat, Frank, relaxing in the sunshine. Even just going for a swim, he always chose to spend time outside over being cooped up in his apartment.

 

He lived a faithful life. I have never seen anyone more committed to their spouse than my grandpa was. He loved my grandma deeply, and it was very evident in their day-to-day lives. Most of the memories I have of my grandma are those with a walker or a wheelchair. She seemed to always have a broken hip or a broken leg, but my grandpa was there every step of the way. When she was moved into the nursing home nothing changed. My grandpa visited her and stayed by her side every single day, often several times and long hours. Even on days when she didn’t want him there, or didn’t know who he was. My grandpa was there, never leaving her side and being a faithful and loving husband till the very last day.

He lived a generous life. My grandpa was a cheerful giver. Whether it was buying candy bars for numerous school fundraisers, sponsoring me for Jump Rope for Heart, or contributing to a missions trip, my grandpa never said no. He was always happy to give. He never hesitated, and I know that he gave to far more causes than just mine.

He lived a thoughtful life. Every birthday and Christmas he would have a card for us, and there would always be a little money in there too. Even with all of his children and grandchildren, he always made sure everybody was thought of, and every year at Christmastime each family would receive their tin of Quality Street chocolates. I will never see that purple tin of chocolates without thinking about my grandpa.

He lived a caring life. After he passed away, I found out that I had been named as beneficiary to one of his policies. I was blown away, completely caught off guard and unprepared. He had done this several years earlier, because of my diligence in school, and because he knew that I would use it wisely. I had always worked very hard in school and did my best, but there were many times when I felt that no one seemed to notice the effort that I actually put in. But through all those years my grandpa noticed, and he left me with a gift that I didn’t deserve. But to know that he cared about me and that my hard work had not gone unnoticed, means much more to me than any monetary value.

He lived an encouraging life. My grandpa was one of my number one sports fans. He would come out to watch me play soccer in the summer, and came to almost all of my home hockey games during the winter. He would get into the games just as much as the next person, and always told me I played a great game, even if I hadn’t. It means a lot to me when people take the time to come out and watch me play sports, and I was always thankful when he was in the stands or on the sideline.

Most importantly, my grandpa lived a Godly life. He showed me what it means to be a follower of Christ. He lived his life with a desire to know and serve God. All of the lessons that he taught me fall in line with the example that Jesus set for us. My grandpa and I never had a conversation about God or spiritual things, yet spiritually, he is one of the people who has influenced me the most in life. I am thankful to have had such a wonderful grandfather in my life and am grateful for the role that he unknowingly played in my growing up years. Just by simply living, he had a lasting impact on me, and I’m sure many others. He was a great man, and I am extremely proud to call him my hero.

 “Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” – 1 John 3:18

Tragedy

Recently, it has seemed like death and tragedy are becoming an increasing part of our world. The 6:00 news is filled with stories that break your heart and lessen your faith in humanity. Horrifying stories take precedent over stories of inspiring people doing their part to make the world a better place. We are bombarded with stories that we do not wish to hear. But the sad truth is that people experience death and tragedy every day all over the world, whether it's publicized or not.

People suffer every day. Loved ones die every day. Pain happens every day. Torture happens every day. Injustice happens every day. Evil happens every day. There are countless people all across the world that go through these things on a daily basis, almost all of which never make national or international headlines. It is unfathomable and incomprehensible.

This world certainly needs prayer. Every single person needs prayer. Every day. But prayer is not just a nice way of saying, "I care" or, "You're in my thoughts" or, "I can't imagine what you're going through." Prayer is crying out to God. It is real. It is powerful. And it can truly make a difference in our hurting world.

Prayer is being able to talk to the source of all comfort. To the one who can bring good out of any evil. The one who sees the pain and suffering, and knows exactly what you're going through. The one who has been there. The one who cares and is always listening. The one who never leaves and never stops loving.

Prayer is an amazing gift that allows us to bring to God whatever it is that we're going through. Whether your need is big or small, trivial or life-threatening, you can approach God anywhere and any time, and he will listen.

When tragedy strikes, humanity needs something to believe in. Somewhere to go to get answers. Someone to turn to when the world doesn't make sense. But perhaps that something already exists. Perhaps that somewhere has been here the whole time. And perhaps that someone has been waiting for you. When the world doesn't make sense, maybe it's time to start looking beyond it. Maybe it's time to start putting your hope in something outside of it. In the One that has overcome it.

He is real. He is powerful. And He can truly make a difference in your hurting world.


John 16:33, 1 Thessalonians 5:17, 2 Corinthians 1:3-4, Psalm 145:18, Hebrews 4:15-16

A World of Grey

I visited a place once, not too far from here.
I couldn’t tell you how to get there, but that’s probably for the best.
The people there walked quickly with their hands in their pockets, always looking down and hiding beneath their hats and long overcoats.
They towered above me.
Their faces were hidden, but still they were expressionless.
They all looked the same. All dressed in grey and black.
I clearly didn’t belong in this place and yet no one seemed to notice me.
They were preoccupied. Busy.
Heading swiftly to their destinations and focusing on nothing else.
Their actions were by rote.
Everything they did was void of meaning.
Just subconsciously going through the motions.
The same motions they’d been going through since as far back as anyone could remember. It was the same thing day after day through those damp, colourless streets.
Nobody smiled.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody talked to one another.
They were busy.
I didn’t like this place.
I didn’t understand.
So I ran.
I found my way home eventually, but the memories still linger.
They say that everybody ends up there one day, and seldom ever leave.
But I pray I’ll never have to see that place again.
And I hope you never have to either.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Mirror, mirror on the wall
Am I too big, am I too small?
Does the world notice me at all?
Or are you the only one?

Twinkle, twinkle little star
Being admired from so far
I wish that I was where you are
Instead of being stuck down here

Cause I’m all alone
Trying to make it on my own
With nowhere to turn
And nowhere to go
I don’t know what to do
Or if I’ll even make it through
I can’t tell what is best
I can’t tell what is true

Candle, candle burning bright
Why can’t I do anything right?
Even if I try with all my might
I still fail and fail again

Someone, someone answer me this
Why does my life seem so pointless?
Always pain and struggle, never bliss
Just trying to make it through today

Cause I’m all alone
Trying to make it on my own
With nowhere to turn
And nowhere to go
I don’t know what to do
Or if I’ll even make it through
I can’t tell what is best
I can’t tell what is true

Jesus, Jesus hear as I pray
How can you let me suffer in this way?
Am I just a puppet in your play?
Do I matter to you at all?

Father, Father hear my cry
Can’t you please just tell me why?
Why some days it feels like I should die
So I can leave this cruel world behind

Cause I’m all alone
Trying to make it on my own
With nowhere to turn
And nowhere to go
I don’t know what to do
Or if I’ll even make it through
I can’t tell what is best
I can’t tell what is true

Child, child I love you
Whatever the case I’ve been there too
Just trust in me and I’ll get you through
It’ll work out in the end

For my plans are bigger than you know
But I must give you time to grow
I’m moulding you from head to toe
To be what you’re meant to be

So that one day you’ll be with me

Cause you’re not alone
No need to do it on your own
I’m where you should turn
I’m where you should go
I know exactly what to do
And how to get you through
I know what is best
I know what is true

Child, child I love you!

Education, Success, and What You Have to Show for Your Life

The pressure to succeed in today’s day and age is huge. Most people don’t realize it because it has become the norm, but from the time you’re in kindergarten it’s ingrained in you that you must succeed. Checkmarks, compliments and stickers equal success. As you get older you learn that ‘B’s are nice, but ‘A’s are better. ‘C’s and ‘D’s mean you need to try harder. You’re not good enough. Marks are the measuring stick you’re supposed to live up to. You’re constantly compared to the smart kid, or the stupid kid. Or maybe you are the smart kid, or the stupid kid. Somehow everybody always knows everyone else’s marks. After every evaluation it’s always, “Hey, what did you get?” You compare your marks to see how you measure up to society. It’s a big deal if you get a better mark than the smart kid, and an even bigger deal if you get a worse mark than the stupid kid. And if you don’t feel like sharing your mark with those who ask, people just assume you did horribly and don’t want to tell.

But who says the kid with the 60% didn’t try twice as hard as the kid with the 90%? Some kids are just smarter than others. Some things just come more naturally to others. For some kids, academia just isn’t their thing. And then there are some kids who are absolutely brilliant, but they don’t care enough to try. Others who aren’t as smart do everything to try and understand - ask questions, study for hours, and get a tutor - but they still can’t manage more than a 75%.

So what do the letters A-D or the percentages from 1-100 actually show or mean? It’s not like you can actually give an “‘A’ for effort,” because no one can truly know how much effort you put in or how hard you tried or if you honestly did your absolute best work or not. No one can know but you. So if a 45% truly is your best work, then society says you’re not good enough.

It is sad to see that this is how everyone is evaluated in school. School is the place where you are supposed to learn the important things that will help you through life, yet you’re measured strictly on your grades from the classroom. There’s no B+ for compassion, there’s no A- for loving others, and there’s no A+ for honesty. Math, science, and history marks are seemingly more important than your character.

As soon as you move beyond elementary school, you better know what program you’re taking, at which specific university, for how long, for which career, and all the prerequisites you need to get there. Not only that, but now your marks have to step it up too because now it “actually matters.” You need the best marks so you can get accepted to the best university, and if not then you can “settle” with college. Teachers and guidance counselors constantly remind you that you have to have the highest marks so that you can get into the best schools and make something of your life. They rarely if ever talk about finding your passion in life, or making a difference in the world. You must get into a good college or university. There’s no other option.

College and university aren’t exactly the most affordable options out there. It’s not like teenagers have $80 000 of spare change lying around. Maybe some do thanks to parents and relatives, but if not, then maybe you can’t go to the college or university that you’ve dreamed of. Even scholarships only go so far, and some people just can’t live with that kind of debt. So what about the kid whose dream it is to be a doctor, but their grades just don’t cut it? They’ve worked hard, done their best, and are eager to learn but their grades weren’t good enough to get into the program.

Similarly there’s the kid who has had a 95% average their entire life and has constantly been told of all the wonderful, magnificent careers they could go into - be a doctor, lawyer, you name it. But maybe they don’t want to be a doctor or a lawyer or a “you name it.” Maybe their passion in life is to be a garbage man. Is that wrong? People would tell them that it would be such a waste of a great mind for them to be a garbage man. It’s not exactly a millionaire’s job. And how is that fair to the people who want to be doctors or lawyers but they don’t have the money or grades to get there? Should you be a doctor or a lawyer then - because you can? Or what if someone’s passion in life is to be a housewife. Is that even acceptable anymore?

But society doesn’t tell you to find your passion. Society tells you to graduate from Harvard with a law degree, buy a fancy house and a fancy car, and start a nice little family with a nice retirement saving put away. Then you’ll be successful.

Society shouldn’t be able to define personal success. It shouldn’t be able to tell you whether or not you’re good enough. Yet for most people in today’s day and age it does.

So where did you graduate from? How much money do you make each year? Do you have a three-car garage? What have you got to show for your life?

The Man with the Cardboard Sign

There’s a man at the corner with a cardboard sign.
He looks hot and weary.
The cars just pass him by.
People wonder why he’s there, how he got to that point in his life.
People assume it’s his own fault.
He must have done something wrong. He must have screwed up.
People wonder if he really needs the money, or whether he’ll just waste it on alcohol, drugs, or cigarettes.

But when we see someone in need, should we really be thinking these things?
Do we even have a right to question where our money is going?
Isn’t it enough to just see a need and give?
When did we become so hesitant to give or help, and so quick to stereotype?
Why do we assume he will misuse the money?
If Jesus were giving to a stranger, would He question if he or she really needed the money, or would He smile and give regardless?

Maybe he did use the money for drugs. Maybe he did blow it all on alcohol.
But maybe he didn’t.
Maybe he felt happy, even for a moment, feeling that someone out there genuinely cared about him and his problems.
Maybe you made his day.
Maybe you made his year.
Maybe he was going to use the money for cigarettes, but after seeing the generosity and compassion of so many people he realized there was more to life. He realized he needed to make some changes.
Or maybe he really did need the money to survive - to clothe his kids, or buy his next meal, and you could help him make it through the day by giving him the spare change from your cupholder. With the change you would normally spend on your morning coffee, you could make a difference in someone’s life.

But how do you tell which type of guy this one is? How do you tell if he really needs the money or not, or what he’ll do with it afterward? The fact is you can’t. So do you take a chance and give? Or do you just keep on driving, avoiding eye contact and pretending you didn’t see him?

If you’re so worried about where your money is going, have you ever thought to pray when giving it away? To ask God to use the money to bless that man and bring glory to Himself. To trust God to do the rest once we’ve given a stranger some change. Or do you only think of yourself - justifying not giving with all of the “what ifs.”

But what if you’re wrong? What if you missed out on an incredible opportunity to touch someone’s life and share God’s love? Or what if that man actually starved to death because someone looked at him and judged him and kept on driving?

What if instead of giving money, you took him out for lunch? Or just stopped and listened to his story. Had a conversation with him. Showed that you care. What if you were able to just roll down your window and hand him a twenty with a big smile on your face and say “God bless you” without even hesitating, just naturally seeing a need and trying to meet it.

What if everyone gave unconditionally?

What if you had to stand in his shoes, holding up his cardboard sign, and hearing the verbal abuse from those who just don’t understand?
   
Or what if it was Jesus holding up that cardboard sign? Would you give then, if you knew it was Him? Or would you still drive by and avoid eye contact?

God said that by giving to the least of these, you are giving to Him (Matthew 25:40). However, He also said that by not giving to the least of these, you are choosing not to give to Him (Matthew 25:45).

How can you choose not to give to God after all He’s given you?


So what makes us keep on driving by?



“He who oppresses the poor shows contempt for their Maker, but whoever is kind to the needy honors God.” Proverbs 14:31

“If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” 1 John 3:17

Welcome

Alright, so I've decided to try this blogging thing. So welcome to my first official blog. This first blog is just a quick introduction and overview of what I hope to do with my posts in the future. My blogs are not going to be "Here's what I did today..." kind of blogs, but blogs that allow me to express myself and discuss some personal thoughts, struggles, feelings, opinions etc. Hopefully they will be thought-provoking. Hopefully they will focus on what's really important in life. Hopefully they will encourage you to examine your own thoughts and values. And hopefully you can relate to some of them.

My first actual blog will be up shortly. Let me know what you think - about my writing, about my content, or whether you agree or disagree with anything I've said. I'd love to hear comments or other points of view. Feel free to be honest. I like being able to have open-minded discussions, especially on some of the deeper things in life.

Thanks for giving this a read.

Jenelle