tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3944301210319144166.post550356735938094983..comments2023-09-25T08:06:45.198-04:00Comments on Quick Brown Fox: The Wedding Photo – Songs of Innocence and ExperienceBrian Henryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16477347092587248351noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3944301210319144166.post-49894421903118852332014-10-20T10:15:56.631-04:002014-10-20T10:15:56.631-04:00I woke up this morning at 5:00, feeling ripped off...I woke up this morning at 5:00, feeling ripped off because 5 hours of sleep is just simply not enough. The only positive side of that - on a Monday work morning, no less! - is that I had time to myself to think. Which was particularly good as it was impossible to slide back into sleep anyway.<br /><br />One of the thoughts concerned my teenage years as a Jesus freak. I remember the powerful drama of my drunken father, having one of his many drunken rages. At first, he used to only drink (and rage) on weekends. Eventually that changed and we got to see his performance every day of the week. The man was 300 pounds at least, and every single ounce was dedicated to his anger, which he often took out on my mom. As a 15 year old boy of only 128 pounds, I had nothing to say and no recourse back then. I was afraid all the time, never knowing if today would be the day he would murder my mom - or one of his kids. (Side note: she survived, as did we all)<br /><br />My only real escape back then was church. And one of the highlights of the Jesus life was making a trip down to Toronto from Oshawa on Thursday nights - there to participate in Toronto Catacombs, which later became Christian Church on a Hill.<br /><br />As I lay in bed lost in thought this morning, I vividly remembered Bob and Lorraine. Both of them shone which such grace and joy in that place. They were only two out of a great many musicians, but I distinctly recall Lorraine singing about Jesus asking Peter to be a fisher of men. <br /><br />I recall experiencing such an intense and painful sense of joy and love for God when she sang. I could see it so clearly: she was just a channel for God's love. And so there, in that huge cathedral, with the music filling the place and swirling around those ancient pillars, I experienced a euphoric joy and gladness, shared with everyone in the place. I remember wondering if it was possible to capture that moment; perhaps put it in a jar so that I could take it with me everywhere I went.<br /><br />Even back then, in my spiritual and emotional immaturity, I knew of the importance of that moment. <br /><br />Today, though I still believe in and love God, I simply have no use for religion. I have no patience or tolerance for the dogma that seeks to entrap people in man-made rules and instruction. I wondered, as I lay in my bed this morning, whether my current state of mind, transplanted back then to those Thursday nights in the Anglican cathedral, would have somehow marred the experience; would have negated it.<br /><br />I can only conclude that it would not. My young immature mind knew the truth of that time, and it was a truth that one simply can't dismiss, much like the truth of the sun's daily rising. That the gentle joyful folk of that place - including and especially the Tadmans - were conduits of God's grace and love. I'll always cherish that time and those people.<br /><br />After getting up and settling in to work this morning, I decided to do a Google search for Bob and Lorraine - and that's how I ended up reading this beautiful Valentine's day blog. I hope they're doing well, and that they get a chance to read this comment.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />Doug P owless a.k.a. wolfshadesAnonymousnoreply@blogger.com