Consider this

               Author Allison Fallon tells a story about her brother who was riding his bike to church one Sunday morning.   As he approached an intersection, a student driver in the car ahead of him turned her left turn signal light on and then made a right turn right in front of him.   Allison’s brother crashed into the side of the car and was sent flying across the hood and onto the ground on the other side.                 A crowd quickly gathered.   Some of the people asked “Are you okay?” or “Does anything hurt?”   Others, though, were angry and started yelling at the driver for making such a stupid and dangerous mistake.                   Allison’s brother looked up and asked, “What is the driver’s name?” The driving instructor told him that her name was “Candace”.   Bloodied and scraped up, he made his way toward the car.   He found the driver sitting in her seat sobbing uncontrollably. He leaned in the window and said, “Candace, it is okay.   Accidents happen.   Mistakes a

               Ontario was established in 1849 as a home for former African American slaves who had found freedom thanks to the Underground Railroad.                 If you visit Buxton, you will see a large bell that was housed in the community’s church building. Whenever a new family arrived in town, the bell was rung in joyous celebration.   Everyone would come in from the fields, welcome the new family and commit to helping them becoming established in their new homeland.   The bell was also rung every morning and every night to remind the community to stop and remember those who were still in slavery.                 Everyone in Buxton understood what it was to be a slave.   They also knew the courage that it took to make the journey north.   Most of all, they understood how valuable their new life was and because of that they were eager to help others who were starting over.                 Ideally, the same things should be true of the church.   It, too, is a community mad

               “The guy in that picture is an idiot!”                 That is what I thought as I gazed at a photo of Sara and me on our wedding day.                 Now, let me clarify:   I was not an idiot for getting married.   In fact, marrying Sara is one of the smartest things I have ever done.   The problem is that the guy in that photo has no idea how to love the beautiful girl that he just married.   He has no idea how to be a good father.   He worries way too much and is more angry than he ought to be.   In short, he needs a lot of work.                 The good news, though, is that the guy in that photo is not me.   At least, he is not me anymore.   I have grown up some in the last twenty-two years.   I am still not a perfect husband or father, but I am a better one.   I still worry, but I do it less often.   I am a little more relaxed, kind, open and generous than I was when that picture was taken.                   One of the most hopeful things about this life is

            I am a wimp!   I am not a wimp when it comes to pain.   Compared to others I think I have a very high pain tolerance.   I am not a wimp when it comes to work.   I think I can outwork many people.   I drive a motorcycle, love hockey and I am a track official at the “Estevan Motor Speedway”.   I like working on old motorcycles and cars and I always have a project on the go.   I am not wimpy in those ways. What am I a wimp about then?   I cannot stand complainers! When people start complaining, especially about things that neither they nor I have any control over, I quickly lose interest in the conversation.   There are many legitimate concerns in the world and if you have a real problem, I am glad to listen and help you in any way that I can.   However, if you are just whining then you can see yourself to the door. Maybe this is a character flaw of mine.   Maybe I should be more patient and compassionate.   However, I think I actually have some backup for this atti