Will You Be Mine?

Today is Valentine's day.

A day of flowers, chocolate, massacres and the crushed hopes of a million Charlie Browns aching for the affections of the little Red-Haired Girl. Hooray!

I know it's Valentine's day the same way that I know it's any other day: I asked my phone.

Given the time it's been Since I've updated my blog, I should perhaps let you in on a couple of key aspects of my life. I'm still living in Calgary, and my car has become my primary form of transport, which means I'm spending a lot less time than I used to going through security waiting to board and a lot more wondering why the people in front of me consistently insist on driving so slowly (best current charitable guess is that size increases in cup holders have now outpaced the cups themselves, meaning any significant acceleration will result in a mass coffee-sloshing epidemic). Oh, and I'm married to Tamara (I didn't have the chance to introduce her before, but you'd like her).

Some things are the same: a perpetual longing for hamburgers of one type or another, seeing the world mostly through my Nikon and hearing it with barely imaginary drum accomponiment, and melting whenever the little chick breaks into song.

There is an even bigger change, though, and one I certainly didn't see coming. I chose an iPhone. On purpose.

Yes, creative types - you can do the whole "I told you so" thing now.

Still no Mac (and I don't anticipate that changing), but now I'm one of those people who doesn't think it odd to just randomly drop an "i" in front of most things I use or buy ("Honey, I'm going to the iStore to get some iMilk. Do we iNeed anything else?"). Combine that with the fact that we have a little dog, and I have clearly become what I had, for so long, ridiculed. I have not stooped to the point of having the dog's picture emblazoned on my iPhone case, but I suspect that that's mostly because until just now when I wrote that, I didn't really consider it as a possibility.

So I might be a little pathetic.

In any case, the point of all this is to say that phones (and perhaps the iPhone in particular) have reduced us (and by this I mostly mean "me") to a state of perpetual childhood. Think about it: when you were a kid, did you worry about waking yourself up? No, you knew that eventually your parents would get you out of bed in time to get ready for school. Did you keep track of your appointments? No... but your parents did. What about taking accurate messages when someone called, or remembering where the car was parked, or what you needed to get from the gorcery store? There was always a grown-up who could manage these things so we didn't have to.

We still don't.

Instead of a grown-up, though, my phone does all of that. If I ever dropped it into the Pacific, I would be late, confused, and lost. Maybe more accurate to say "more lost" (but only until "loster" is finally recognized as a good word) and "more confused", but you get the picture. I'm generally
on time.

It really hit home when I was walking the little dog, bored. As any child would do, I said "Mom, I'm bored - what can I do?". Actually, I didn't say that, because, even in my current state, I did realize that my mom was not there. What I did say was, "Siri, tell me a story". And she did. It wasn't the best story, and I didn't get to suggest any names for any of the characters and she didn't act out the voices, but still - it killed some time on my walk and happened on demand. And I only had to ask once.

The cycle is complete.

I know I said that's the point of this post, but it's not, actually.

The real point is that Tamara has been, uh... "encouraging" me to blog again. And last year I made a really creative card for her for Valentine's day, with absolutely no foresight into the fact that that was unlikely to be the last Valentine's day that we celebrated by exchanging cards or what it may take to top it with something unexpected - the gold standard, in her books - in subsequent years.

Stupid boy.

So this is your card, my Tamara. Happy Valentine's day - I love you, forever and always.

And for everyone else... I realize that that the show has long been over and anyone still left in the theatre is probably shuffling around, looking for leftover popcorn, and maybe just hoping to hit on the usher who has yet to sweep up (I have nothing to say about that). I'm not saying "creepy", but if you're reading this, you have shown a remarkable amount of patience.

In any case, I'm back, at least for a while. Let's take it one step at a time, shall we?

Rome Pictures - Couples

Well, I'm back, and the parents and I both survived our Roman adventure. I'll write more in the coming days, but just wanted to get a first set of pictures up for you. It's such a beautiful, romantic city, and so one of the things that I noticed a lot of were couples interacting. I have quite a few pictures that I'll be getting up over the next few weeks, but this will at least get you started...

If you squint just right, their faces almost go together to form one single (though slightly cubist) face. I like that.






No, it's not fair, but that's just the way it goes.

You can see the rest here. Enjoy!

Like, Totally, Dude

I have a friend who is very, very English. He has what the English refer to as a posh accent... which does not mean, as you would expect, that he sounds like Victoria Beckem, but instead that he sounds (more or less) like he has money. Every once in a while, he decides to speak "American", which basically involves speaking in his normal, posh accent, and then adding "...dude" at the end of each sentence. It's pretty funny.

I kind of felt like the little chick should have been doing that a couple nights ago. When I was putting her to bed, she looked up at me with a big smile and said "You're awesome, Daddy, and wonderful for taking such good care of me!"

Needless to say, she absolutely melted my already-pretty-soft heart. It's an incredible thing for a three year-old to think about expressing, in my opinion. It wasn't until later that I realized I have no idea where she picked up "awesome". It certainly wasn't from me. In any case, it made me one pretty happy dad, dude.

My Little Chick

Well, Caro, I don't have any graffiti pictures handy, and I missed Wednesday, in any case. Hopefully this will do.

My little chick has been away for a few weeks, and I have missed her like crazy. I've been looking at some pictures and thought maybe I'd share some with you - in these ones she's reading a big book that she can lay down on the floor and climb right on top of.

You probably don't miss her quite like I do, but I hope you like these, anyway.

Oh, and there are a few more here.

IHEARTU

I didn't really steal it.

I just borrowed it and haven't given it back yet. I guess that's a bit too common for me - I have been known to borrow books or CDs or DVDs or whatever for, well, years. I know it's not good, and trust me... it's not really what I'm aiming for. I guess the bright side is that it's not that different when I lend things - I forget pretty quickly who has them, and I'm very free to give out what I have. This has been a blessing and a curse at times - on one hand, the source of more emails than I would like to a whole bunch of friends asking if anyone had seen the book I felt like reading. On the other hand, though, getting a CD back from a friend after a couple of years of thinking it was lost is, in a somewhat perverse way, a pretty nice experience.

Anyways, an anonymous reader of TYC lent me a DVD while visiting Geneva a while ago. I was (am) supposed to send it on to another friend, but hadn't quite gotten there yet when we had a bit of a quick change-up at YAGS (a group from my church that meets weekly, and that I help to lead): I was supposed to lead a discussion on kind of short notice.

And something kind of strange happened: I found myself without anything to talk about.

If you know me, you'll know that this is kind of out of the ordinary, and it threw me for a bit of a loop. Usually, when someone asks "Hey, can you teach?" I respond with a rather prompt "How much time can I have?". But this last week, I didn't have many ideas, but I remembered this video, and thought maybe ît would be a good one for us to watch and discuss together.

Turns out it was.

It is about the life and writings of Henri Nouwen. I didn't know tons about the guy before - a friend had given me one of his books (Return of the Prodigal Son) that was good... good in the general sense of being insightful and well-written, but also good for me. I knew he had written a bunch of others, but wasn't that familiar with them. He had quite a life, and wrote from a place of pain and longing much of the time. The video (called Journey to the Heart) was good, well worth a watch, if you can get a hold of it (and aren't waiting in line after me for anonymous' copy). I'm going to read more of his books now.

But I tell you all that to tell you this: there was one idea in there that just reached out and grabbed me by the heart. It's this: God loves us - he has loved us since before we loved him, before we were born, before the world was created, before time began. And he has given us just a little bit of time on this planet - 20 years, 40 years, 70 years - to be able to say, "I love you, too".

Well, I think that the reason for creation is a little more complex than that. And I guess Henri probably did, too. But that doesn't take anything away from the truth of how beautiful it is to hear a real "I love you".

The little chick has been able to understand some of what love is, and to choose to demonstrate it for a while now (she is, as she will tell you, a big girl now, at three). But there is still something mind-blowing about those little arms being thrown around my legs, that little head burried in, and a muffled "I love you, Daddy" escaping in the midst of it. As she learns more, it becomes more and more meaningful: she wants to share with me. She wants to include me in what she's doing. She wants to know how I feel, and wants to see that she makes me happy in her love for me.


So I wonder: how much of my so-far-at-least-35 years on this planet am I spending telling (or showing) God that I love him?

I have also known "I love you's" that aren't quite like those I get from the little chick. When no expression of love is forthcoming it can be painful, but there is far more damage when an "I love you" offered is not truly heartfelt - or, worse, when it's a lie - than when it's just absent. Those are words that should never be spoken out of duty or obligation - where there is that kind of obligation, there is no real love.

And so I wonder about something else: how many times have I said or sung those words to him without really meaning them?


Three little words, but a lot to think about.

We Should Have Phoned First

There is a mountain (hill) near Geneva called the Salève. It's actually on the French side, but we like to think it's ours. You can go up it in a cable car, and everyone has told me for years how wonderful the views are over the city and the lake, especially at sunset, but I've never been.

I decided, though, that now was the time. First of all, this is my last summer living here. And second, I have kind of a special visitor, and I wanted to share it with her. So we got a picnic ready, headed off across town, walked through the border into France, found the entrance, and....

Closed.


Yeah, turns out that the sun sets at 9:30, and the cable car stops running at 7. Who came up with that schedule*?!? For the record, though, it was still a pretty nice sunset, even from the bottom.

C'est la vie.






* Not actually a rhetorical question - I think perhaps it was this guy.

Jet Lag

So, jet lag is a bit of a killer.

There were a lot of 4 AM mornings for me last week, which is part of the reason that there were not a lot of blog entries. Jet lag is tricky when you're an adult who understands it and even should be well-traveled enough to have some tricks to deal with it. It seems, though, that it can be even more complex when you're three, and you Daddy is telling you it's time to sleep but your body is pretty sure that's not quite right.

Anyways, the week went really well - some great time with family, wonderful visits with friends, a few junior bacon cheeseburgers and Jon & Erin's wedding was great.

Needless to say, the little chick was more or less the star of the show. Well, except for Erin, but that's probably how it should be.

She was the flower girl, and she had an amazing little princess dress that my mom found for her, complete with veil, and some beautiful little white shoes with light but colorful embroidery on them. Her hair was after-the-bath curly, and she was in a pretty great mood. Our multiple practices of walking down the aisle the night before paid off, and when her turn came, she looked a bit nervous but walked down slowly, just like she was supposed to, helped to keep track of her cousin, who was the ring-bearer, and made her way to the front.

Then she saw me, and in the quiet of anticipation for the bride, this little voice rang out "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" as she threw herself up onto the stage and into my arms. It was amazing.

I took some pictures.... these are my favorites, but you can see the rest here.

Happy Birthday...

... Little Chick. I love you.

Run, Fat Boy, Run

Okay, I don't think it was in the running for an Oscar. If it has "cinematic masterpiece" on the back cover, I'd check the small print.

But it's beautiful.

I would tell you what it's about, but the only ways that I could describe it would make it sound predictable and one-dimensional, and it really wasn't. I'll tell you this:

it made me laugh out loud

it made me want to hug the little chick

it made me wish I had an Irish accent

it had the best fight scene I've seen in a while

it made me happy to be alive


And if that's not reason enough to watch a movie, I don't know what is. Okay, maybe that and having Angelina Jolie (which it didn't), but still. Pretty good.

David

I took some shots of my brother at Christmas. You can see some more here.

The Wedding (Again)

Well, yesterday was another wedding for a wonderful close friend. It was a busy day, but it was great. Busy because:

I was in the bridal party
I was playing drums and singing for the 8 or so songs they had during the ceremony
I was giving the toast to the groom (tag-team with another groomsman)
I was the emcee for the reception
I sat in on drums with the groom and the band for a few tunes at the dance

Great because I love the people who got married, and it was beautiful to see them taking this step, to hear them promising their love and faithfulness to each other. And it was good because I loved being able to participate in their day and give them something that maybe wasn't better than what someone else could have given them, but was, at least, unique, and could only have been from me, in how I played and supported and spoke.

And since I don't think that there was anyone there who regularly reads (or at least comments) here, I'm going to take a minute to just say that I nailed it. It was a good feeling.

Music is pretty much not a problem - I love to play, love to perform, so that's all good.

The toast was a bit tricky... the friend I was giving it with was quite nervous, and our styles are pretty different - I like to figure out the main points I want to hit and then just get up and talk. He likes to have everything written out, to be able to read it. But we got it figured... decided on a theme (a user's guide about the groom, for the bride), figured out which stories to tell and who would do what, got his part written out and mine outlined, and it went over really well. Funny in parts (okay, for most of it), but also really honest and sincere and appreciative from both of us. I think that best compliment that I received after (except for a hug and "I love you, man" from the groom) was this: "you really showed a side of him that most people here wouldn't know, and though speeches like that sometimes feel forced and a little put on, it was just so sincere and natural - I could tell it came from your heart. I think you really presented him well to the bride's family".

That made me happy.

The other part of my talking was a bit of an adventure. To MC a wedding with a lot of structure is not so hard... you just make sure things are moving along from one event to the next, more or less as close to on-time as you can manage. But this was not a highly structured affair.

I also realized as we were driving from the church to the reception hall that I had meant to think of some stories to tell, some jokes or something... and had completely forgotten. Oh well.

So I winged it. And I'm glad I did... it meant I could be casual, relaxed (I had one person after comment that it felt like I was just talking to one person... and after struggling for YEARS to get past my "now I'm giving a presentation" voice, that was a huge compliment for me) and funny on my own. And it went really well - I think it helped to give the rest of the evening a casual, relaxed, and confident foundation to kind of float along on. It was cool.

So, turns out this post is mostly just bragging so far... not my usual fare, and if you're a newcomer to The Yellow Couch, please don't be scared away without reading a bit more. I'm not usually quite like this. But I'm really happy with how it went, and wanted to share it with you.


It was a pretty significant day for me for another reason.

I don't dance (except at concerts, where I move pretty much non-stop from start to finish).

Or, at least, I didn't.


As the dance started, I kind of slumped into my seat. Usually, I start figuring out how I can get home and into bed at this point. But I had to be there till the end, tonight. I was ready for a long, long night.

I was sitting next to one of the bridesmaids, a friend from a long time ago who had come back to Geneva for the wedding. I said something to her about always dreading this part of the wedding. She was surprised. So was my co-speech-giver's girlfriend, on the other side of me. "You're musical," she said (which, actually, pretty much everyone does at this point in the conversation), "you must be able to dance". I tried to explain that having good rhythm is not the same as being a good dancer, but she would have none of it. They both decided that I was incapable of not being able to dance. Meanwhile the band started into the second tune, a 60's rocker. My bridal party counterpart looked at me and said, "hey, you know, it's a fast one, and there are a lot of people out there - no one is even going to notice you if it doesn't work". I decided she was right.

"Okay," I said, "do you want to dance?"

She did, so out we went, and you know what? It was fun. I liked it, and I kept dancing until I realized that it was going to be the first time I would ever have to get a suit dry-cleaned within the first week that I had owned it. But it was worth it. Turns out I can dance - not stunningly well, but well enough. So I danced with her, with other friends, with women I didn't know, with a whole bunch of people, with no one in particular. I danced with the bride, and even with the groom. It was pretty good.

Yeah, good wedding. And it left me thinking the same thing as the groom as we stepped off the dance floor for a drink and a bit of time to talk. We sat down and he looked at me, and said in his usual, direct way "Well, that's good. Done. Now, D... when is yours?".

Happy Valentine's Day

And that's about all I have to say about that.

Create

I am in a deeply creative mood today... tried to go out to take some pictures at lunch, and couldn't find good light anywhere. Aaargh!

Tonight I will edit some pictures, I will play my bass, I will sing... it's going to be good. I can't wait to get some of this out, to do something wonderful with it. It's funny though, how it comes and goes... I hope that someday I can develop some discipline, not to bring down the peaks, but to try and limit the impact of the valleys.

Oh, and I may have found the hardest thing in the world. It's having a little girl in bed, in tears, saying, "Daddy, come back... Daddy, need a hug" and not going in every time. It kills me, and even though I know she needs to learn to sleep well, every fiber in my being wants to hug her and comfort her and give her that sense of being treasured, protected, and loved, more than anything in the world.

I Have A Cold

... and I'm giving training to a room full of people. It's good - I like that a lot of people are there to hear me (it makes me feel popular, and is cheaper than standing outside the cinema offering to buy tickets for whoever wants to come in). But it's tiring, and when talking is tough and thinking is tougher, doing the kind of training I'm doing can be a bit of a challenge.

Nonetheless, I am going to give it my best shot. Or something approaching it.

The other thing is, I miss the little chick. A lot.

People ask me a lot about being a parent, what it's like, how it feels. And the fact is, it's not easy. It's also draining, and when she wants attention, she doesn't really care if I have a cold or not. But it's love... an unending chance to show and learn love, and, sometimes, even to have it returned.

So I miss her. I wish I could put her on my shoulders and wander through the streets singing with her. I wish she was close enough for me to take pictures of. I want to hear, "Daddy play, too?". I want to sing her to sleep.

Soon.


In the meantime, I'm going for sushi.

Do It Like This

The little chick is becoming more and more articulate, and more concrete in her ideas, and it's wonderful to see. In some ways, it's tricky that she's entered that stage where she wants things done just so ("No, Daddy, not like that!"), but I'm really glad that she can tell me about it.

One of the more interesting manifestations has been over the last week and half as we've been visiting my family. She has, at some points, been actually jumping up and down, she's so happy to see them. I love it. There have been a lot of songs, a lot of dancing, and about a bizillion hugs. And while a fair number of them have been preceded by "Awwww, Daddy.....", there has been an interesting new development.

"No, Daddy - go on couch!"

"No Daddy - close eyes!"

"No Daddy - go over there!"

As she's been playing with my brothers, she's decided that, sometimes, I'm just kind of in the way. So she directs me... to go back to the couch, to have a nap, or to stand in the kitchen for a while, so she can play undisturbed. I guess if it was all the time, I'd be a bit disturbed, but as it is, I think it's beautiful. Beautiful to see her growing in confidence, to see her wanting to show that she can do it on her own, and, in the end, beautiful to see her come running back to me with a giant hug.

Beautiful.

The Highest Compliment

... in the little chick's arsenal is, "nice". It may not sound like much, but when she says "Awwww, nice Daddy..." it melts my heart. It's not a descriptor I would particularly welcome from the world at large, but from her... it's different.

We had a couple wonderful daddy-daughter-days this weekend. A lot of playing and singing, a lot of laughing, but my favorite part was a lot of cuddling.

One of the things I'm enjoying about this age is that she rarely stalls when I'm putting her to bed, and when she does, it's pretty transparent. "Go out there? Play with toys?". She hasn't yet decided to use the "I'm thirsty" weapon, and I'm glad.

So last night, when she told me she was still hungry, I was happy to get her a granola bar just to fill in any cracks left by dinner. And, while she seemed to enjoy the granola bar, I don't think it's what she really wanted. She cuddled in on my lap, and, as she ate, turned her head right into my shoulder and put her arm - granola bar still in tow - around me. And she just stayed there. And I don't know how it may impact her sleeping habits, long-term, but making my daughter feel beyond any doubt that she is loved and treasured is a whole lot more important to me than getting her to bed 15 minutes sooner. So I cuddled her, and it was good for both of us.

It made me wonder - what is it in that physical proximity that is so powerful, that she seeks it out and longs for it and that I want so deeply to give it to her? And how is it that, in the love I have for her, and she has for me, holding and being held can be so similar and yet so different from how it is in romantic love? I don't understand it... but I know it's important. And so does she - I can tell, that's part of what "nice Daddy" means.

Cover Me

This morning I was playing with the little chick - we were playing catch with a balloon. She came over and bonked me on the head with it, so I tumbled over onto the floor. She started giggling and came over and jumped on me, giving me a big hug. "Oooohhhh" she said in a voice that I can't hope to capture in writing, "Daddy-daughter day!" (that's what we call it) and just snuggled right in.

After a minute, she got back to her feet and looked a little concerned... then walked over to her little pink chair where Mrs Cow (who is almost the same size as she is) lives. She pulled her out of the chair and brought her over to me; lifting my head, she pushed Mrs Cow underneath. "Daddy needs pillow," she explained. I'm not sure how it was for Mrs Cow, but it was a whole lot more comfy for me.

Then she realized something was still missing - she ran off to where all her supplies are for her baby, and came back with a blanket... a blanket that is more symbolic than functional, even for her baby: it's about one foot square. "For Daddy's feet," she said. She stood by my feet and considered. Then, straddling my legs, she decided against the feet and waddled up until she was at my belly, and spread the blanket out over me. "Now," she said, sitting herself in her pink chair next to me, where she could keep an eye on my condition, "close eyes and go to sleep."

Well, the sleep only lasted about 15 seconds before it was time to play again, but it was wonderful to see her learning to stop and get outside of herself, to think about what I (or anyone) might need, and to want to care for those needs. That's the kind of little chick I want to raise.

I'm a pretty happy guy.

The Wedding

Well, it was a busy weekend - insanely busy, actually. The little chick and I slept through most of a friend's birthday party on Sunday, even. But I have a full report on the wedding:

The ceremony was 90 minutes. That would seem like a long time, and since it was happening in three languages (not all in three, but it does add up). Here were the highlights:

1. The Bride (Priska) wore a red dress, and it was just stunning. At first, I couldn't believe it, but it really suited her... very dramatic, and with the flower-girls' orange dresses the color was really rich and deep. I loved it.

2. The music - we had a full band, a mix of French and English players, all of whom I have had the pleasure of playing with before, so it was a lot of fun. The acoustic drums were okay in the end. There were two things that made it just wonderful for me. First, Fred, the groom, told me that he loved it, and that he was really moved by the music. Second, I could hear this beautiful little voice from the back of the room after the songs were done... "Daddy?". *sigh*

3. The cortege - or something like that... it's a procession, where everybody drives slow and honks. You guessed it: two of my favorite things. Between having to tear down and pack up my drums, and wanting to get to the reception site early to be ready to shoot, I decided to skip it. Don't worry, everyone said, it's really easy to get to, and really simple to skip around the cortege route and take the highway directly. Yeah, right. John decided to join me, and we made a quick stop for a couple of burgers (music makes you hungry, in case you were wondering), took a good close look at the map, and decided that odds were pretty much certain we were going to get lost if we attempted it. So we turned around, headed back to the church, and found a family still there who was going to be heading up after stopping off at home to get their passports (welcome to Geneva... ceremony in one country, reception in another!). They let us follow them, which was good, because we would have been really, really lost.

4. The great part of the Swedish-style reception. Richard and Dorothy had kind of prepared me for this, but I was not ready for the full extent of it. There were some really fantastic speeches: my old friend Harald did his usual bang-up creative job, as did Mo (but it barely counts, since all Irish people are funny), and Fred's sister who is very much like he is... very tall, very thin, very smart, and very, very dry in the humor department - just brilliant.

5. The other part of the Swedish-style reception. It turns out that, at a Swedish wedding reception, everyone has to participate. Richard figures it's because they're very sentimental (so they usually end up talking about visits to great-aunt Clauthilde's house when they were 6, and other stuff that the rest of us had always wondered about but never thought to really ask about). I figure it's because of all the pickled fish. I mean, it has to take its toll somehow, right? Case in point: one of the couples that came up to "present" was made up of a woman who sang two Abba songs - one because the bride sings, and one because she just likes it. Then the man said that since the groom's sister is a doctor, he would do a skit about the Swedish medical system. He proceeded to mime (yes, mime) a kind of sloppy operation, apparently a parody of how good Swedish doctors - like the aforementioned groom's sister, sitting 8 feet away from him - are at their profession. Has nothing to do with the bride or groom, their marriage, or even weddings in general, and manages to offend the immediate family of the groom. How could that possibly go wrong? Thanks to this, the dance didn't even start until after 1. And that, kids, is past my bedtime, especially after spending the whole day playing, moving drums, taking pictures (see below) and pondering getting woefully, wonderfully lost in the French countryside.

6. The pictures. I took quite a few, and after editing out the dogs, I still have more than 400 usable shots. Here are a few I like...

What A Great Weekend

The little chick and I went to a retreat with about 130 other people from our church this weekend, and it was fantastic. Amazing weather... eating comfortably in a short-sleeved shirt on a terrace in the mountains is pretty good for Switzerland in October. I got some good pictures, I think, but they are of the amazing fall colors, and so I'm pretty sure that none of them are going to really approach what it was that was forcing me to pull into every single lay-by to pull out my camera. Still, I'll get them up soon and you can take them for what they are.

Mostly, though, it was amazing just to know, once again, what a wonderful "family" I have here - so many people with nothing but love for me. It's amazing, and I hope I never forget.

My Broken Heart

I went to a concert last night... it was Darlene Zschech, a Christian singer from Australia. It was interesting on a number of fronts:

1. As a time of reflection, inspiration, and worship, it was fantastic.
2. As a concert, it was pretty crappy... other than a spot on her, the lights almost seemed random, the sound was not the worst I've heard, but it was a long ways from good, and she played some real dogs - especially the last three tunes.
3. The opening band was a children's choir from Nyon, just up the road. The came onstage on scooters. I've seen a lot of shows, and some that you would expect to be a little strange... KISS, Ozzy, Alice Cooper... and I think this was the strangest thing I've ever seen on stage. Okay, maybe second to Ted Nugent shooting a flaming arrow into a stuffed buffalo, but it was still pretty strange.
   

I am especially intrigued by how numbers 1 and 2 go together... how it could be rather less than stunning musically but so compelling spiritually. But then, I guess that's part of the mystery of what makes faith and the spirit so much more than what we can see and touch, and even know. If I had known what the music would be like (and it wasn't bad, it just wasn't U2), I wouldn't have expected to have been moved.

But I was moved.

And here's the other thing about it: it was sponsored by Compassion International. They're an organization who manage sponsorship of children at risk throughout the world. I know that's a good thing... that there are children who need food and don't have it, who are facing bad, bad odds. But I don't think about it much.

Then they showed me this:

• Approximately 143 million children in the developing world (one in 13) are orphans.
• More than 10 million children under age 5 die each year. Two-thirds of these deaths (more than 6 million deaths every year) are preventable.
• Each day, 1,500 children worldwide become infected with HIV, the vast majority of them newborns.
• Every 14 seconds a child is orphaned by AIDS.
• An estimated 300 million children worldwide are subjected to violence, exploitation and abuse including the worst forms of child labor in communities, schools and institutions.
• An estimated 1.2 million children are trafficked worldwide every year.
  

And then consider this:
1 John 3:17-18 - If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth.

So I decided I needed to do something. I'm perhaps not going to change the world, but I found a little girl in Indonesia who needs help... she's just a little older than the little chick, and so we're going to help her. It costs $32 a month.

I was devastated as these statistics came up... I've never been able to just sit and hear about children being damaged, but since becoming a father... well, let's just say my tolerance level is almost non-existent. These children need someone to love them... they need to have their basic needs taken care of, and they need to know that they are important, that there is someone who cares about them and who doesn't want to hurt them or use them, someone who just wants what's best for them. Every child should have that, and while I can be that someone for my little girl, these children are in a position that it wrong. It's evil, and it's horrible, and it should never happen. I can't be a father to all of the children who need one, and that breaks my heart.

But here's what I think: even though some of it may be out of our hands, there is some that we can change.

So let's change it.