I haven’t blogged here in a little while.
I blame Bebo Norman and Tim Bosma and Rob Ford and Ira Glass for occupying the brain space that would normally permit blog-post writing.
Kelly and I embarked on an epic torrential-downpour-filled road trip to Batavia, New York, a few weeks ago to see Bebo perform. (He’s retiring at the end of the year, so it was kinda super-important to us.)
The show was actually a benefit concert, raising money for a baby whose 20-year-old mother had just passed away from cancer. The woman’s entire family, including her devastated super-young widower, was there.
My eyes welled up with tears: “This is not how life is supposed to work.” But, as I had been learning that week, life doesn’t play by the rules.
The night was unexpectedly beautiful, sad, hopeful and challenging.
Bebo, you’ll be missed…but I think I understand the decision to step away from your guitar. Life is too short to be defined by what we do.
My heart broke. I cried when he went missing — and then sobbed uncontrollably for most of the day when he was ultimately found dead.
I hugged Matt so tightly. I wept as he played “Live Forever” on the guitar. I barked at God: “Don’t you dare break my heart!” I was scared and angry and ill over the horrifying unfairness of it all.
The absolute worst thing about marriage — and love in general — is that it sets you up for heartbreak. It’s inevitable. Someone will hurt someone. Someone will lose someone.
Sharlene Bosma lost.
When you’re single, it can be hard to trust God with your future. When you’re married, it’s even harder. Because the potential for pain is now exponentially greater. Sharlene Bosma’s composure and public expression of faith boggles — and humbles — my weary brain.
I never met Tim Bosma. And I’ll never forget him.
(There is no possible classy segue for this. Sorry.)
I should probably run for mayor, right?
I’m not racist, I have little political experience (therefore no questionable political ties or track record), I am generally friendly to women, children and reporters, and I support local charities.
Right-wing voters will like that I’m a pastor’s kid and am married to a man, left-wing voters will appreciate that I listen to Al Gore when he tells me to turn off the lights, and all Torontonians will be happy that I don’t hate cyclists, streetcars or humans.
I don’t put amateur football above professional commitments.
Bonus #1: I don’t have a criminal record, nor do I even know how to pretend to smoke crack.
Bonus #2: My campaign: “Let’s restart that gravy train: poutine for everyone!”
Related: Matthew made me purchase the latest version of Final Draft this week. It’s time to create.