Twinkle twinkle little star...

A couple of weeks ago, I put up this night light in my little girl's bedroom. The first night I turned it on for her, I heard singing coming from her room in the middle of the night. I went over and found her lying in her bed, looking at the star and singing "Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are...". On her face was this expression, this look that tells you she is off in her own dreamland... wondering where the star will take her.

The longer I have been a parent, the more I am convinced that the ability to imagine, to create, to dream, to wish for something more than the eyes can see is a gift that all of us are given. In many ways, that's part of what defines the human spirit. It's a core part of who we are and what we are.

In the pursuit of faith, two elements are key and central, just as hydrogen and oxygen are key elements in the formation of water (I had to throw that in there for people who mock my lack of scientific knowledge :): (1) The freedom to wonder and to doubt and (2) The ability to dream and to imagine. It occured to me, while I watched my little girl sang, that this is precisely what is lacking in the way the church teaches young people to develop "faith". It perhaps also explains why the church in general has trouble reaching youths.

In the church, we are big on teaching "What" we believe: doctrines, rules, statments of faith, etc. We are not nearly as good in teaching "How" to believe: encouraging questions and doubts, giving space for creative, new and individual expressions of faith through the arts, directing resources to allow young people to not only dream of doing something different but actually trying to make it into reality. It is self contradicting and ultimately self-defeating, I have learned, to encourage people to "believe" and then hand just them a list and say "Now, THIS, AND ONLY THIS, is what you are to believe in..." (Think back to your own pre-baptism interview)

Personally, I have learned to look at what I do in terms of speaking, music, writing and photography as "art" and I have adopted a mission statement for those different pursuits of mine: "To give courage to imagine....".

As a father, I hope I can inspire my little girl, so that when she looks up at a star, rather than waiting for someone to tell her everything about what it is and what it isn't, there will always be that part in her spirit that sings, "twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are..."

Our Anniversary (16th)

So today is our 16th wedding anniversary. It's been a while since we went out with just the two of us, so with my sister offering to take care of Taylor, we went with a friend's recommendation and went to a HIGHLY rated sushi restaurant for dinner.





It was absolutely the BEST sushi we have ever had! The owner/chef only uses fish imported directly from Japan's Toyko Bay within 24 hours of being taken from water. He even makes his own soy sauce!! To mark the occasion, Anna even tried sake for the first time :)

After the meal, we took a short drive to Humber Bay Park, where I captured a couple of nice shots of the Toronto skyline:




Great food, good wine, nice pictures aside, I think the underlying feeling throughout the evening was that we are thankful to have been together for 16 years, through all the up's and down's that life has thrown at us. What a journey it has been!

End of Summer :-(

Today is the last day of Summer...well, perhaps not officially, but we always look at the last day of the Labor Day Weekend as the last day of summer. After dinner at home, we decided to go down to the Harbour Front area for a walk and some ice-cream. As the sun was setting, I managed to catch a shot of the harbour that I thought was rather nice :-)

Not bad, huh? ;-)

After our walk, we bought ice cream from an ice cream truck. (Taylor was born with a special sensor in her optic nerve that enables her to spot an ice cream truck from 12 blocks out:-). It was one of those "moments"...upbeat, happy Jewish music was coming from an open air stage nearby. Everyone was walking around, smiling and checking out the harbour front shops. Wonderful smells from the food stands filled the air. As we sat there with our ice cream, we just tried to sit back and take it all in. (Taylor, of course, was oblivious to the surroundings as she was "locked in" to her ice cream :)

As the sun slowly set in the warm evening breeze, we looked back at the summer and both felt we've taken steps forward as a couple, despite the fact that we are both dealing with our individual pain. As I sat there, I remembered next week is our wedding anniversary...16 years. What a journey it has been. I can't wait to see what lies around the next corner.

A PERFECT day at Niagara Falls

Yesterday we took our little girl to spend a day at Niagara Falls. She's never been to the Falls, and I was eager to photograph it for myself. So, we decided to go with a good friend who is also a photographer and make a day of it.


The plan was that we would go take a walk around the Falls, take some pictures, and then head over to Buffalo to a place where supposedly the famous Buffalo style wings were born.

After getting through the line-up at the border, we were there! Anchor Bar, the home of the original Buffalo Chicken Wings! The place was in a part of town that was quite rundown, but the wings were great! So, after refueling with 50 or so Buffalo wings, we went to a local outlet mall to walk around, before heading back to Canada to take some shots of the Falls at night, with all the colors.



To our UTTER dismay, we discovered that the nightly fireworks in the Summer do not go on Saturday nights!! So, we had to settle for the color spot lights. After taking a few shots, we headed back home. It was 1am by the time we sat down in Scarborough for dinner. We were tired, but all thought it was a wonderful day.



To see more pics from our day, visit my picasa album at: http://picasaweb.google.com/alfred.lam/TripToNiagaraFalls

Coming out of the fetal position

I walked by my daughter's room just now and saw her sleeping in her favorite fetal position: head and knees tucked into her chest and a couple of fingers in her mouth. When my daughter is sleeping like that, she is in her 'happy place'.

Medical text books tell us that the body goes into such a position to protect itself, to minimize further injuries to vital organs. It is an instinctive reaction when the body undergoes extreme stress or trauma. It is a position of self-preservation.

As I watched my little girl sleeps that way, I realized that's how I have been living recently.

You see, I have learned that pain turns your focus inwards until you are literally and figuratively "wrapped up" with yourself.

The ironic thing was that as I retreated deeper and deeper into self-protection mode, as I wrapped my arms tighter and tigher around myself, what I was doing was squeezing the toxin that was poisoning me closer and closer to my heart, until I literally became suicidal.

Then slowly, ever so slowly, I realized the Gospel has an answer, a piece of "good news" for those in pain...

For the first time in my Christian journey, I saw Jesus' life in a different light: In Jesus I saw a brutal honesty that acknowledged pain without the need to mask it, hide it, deny it, or even explain it. He screamed. He cried. He burned with anger.

But, and here is the "good news": instead of curling up in the instinctive "fetal position", Jesus literally did the opposite. He opened his arms, stretched out his legs, and died for the sins of the world.

Perhaps to you, this is no big deal. Perhaps this is all children sunday school material to some of you.

But for me, it is huge.

Because it says to me that even in the face of pain, there is something greater that I can embrace. My life can still have a greater purpose than simply "pain management". My life is meant for more than that.

I can be an instrument of blessing to others. I can be a voice of comfort for those in pain. My story can encourage those who have stumbled and failed. I can be an advocate for those who need a second chance. I can help bring change to how the Christian community looks at those who have failed. Yes, it hurts. Yes, I am in pain. Yes, sometimes it rips me apart. But the good news in Jesus' story says I don't have to wrap myself around it. I don't have to embrace it. My life can be better than that.

For me, that is "good news" indeed.

Those of you who read this blog, I ask for your help:

Help me to come out of my 'fetal position':

Help me to "unclutch" my hands, and "let go" of what others have said and done to me in the past.

Help me to lift up my head so I can see further than my own pain.

Help me to unfold my legs, so I can stand up and walk again.

Help me to open my arms, and welcome the next page in my story...

What have I done??

I just wrote a difficult email.

Last year, partly because I thought it will be a good "emotional break" and partly because it may be a good career transition move, I applied to go to teachers' college. I was quite pleasantly surprised when I was accepted for this September.

Meanwhile I had taken up my current position of leading a non-profit community service organization. At the beginning, I looked at it as a one year experiment to see if this field interests me. During this time, the organization suddenly fell into crisis mode and I had to learn to rebuild a new funding base, develop a new menu of programs and basically re-invent a 35 year-old organization. A task that I felt very unqualified for but was grateful for the unique learning opportunity. There is nothing like a baptism by fire!

As the summer came to a close, I was dreading the decision that I must make: Should I leave and go back to school? Or should I stay on my job and forfeit my offer of admission?

After many sleepless nights and pondering back and forth, I felt that my presence and leadership is needed here at my job, and decided to shelf the idea of going back to school, at least for now.

That was the difficult email that I just wrote and sent.

Right after I hit "send", it hit me that this has happened before...and I felt a chill down my spine.

A couple of years ago when I knew I was emotionally burnt out as a minister, an opportunity presented itself for me to do something else and "get out". I went through the same process: the sleepless nights, the pros and cons, back-and-forth's, and finally decided to stay because the church needed "my leadership and presence".

The rest, as they say, was history...

Oh my god, what have I just done? Did I just repeat my mistake?

New look!

Welcome to the new look of my blog :) I thought I'd start with some new colors, but stay tuned...more changes are to come! Hope you like it :)

Dust and Ashes

Dust and Ashes.

Dust is what you end up with when things are crushed.

Ashes are what you are left with after things are burnt.

There is no better place to learn about life than when you are sitting "in dust and ashes".

For the dust and ashes are life's way of teaching you to ask and answer that single most important question: "What is real?"

I have learned in life, you can put your faith, pin your hopes, pour your love into something, but that alone does not make it real.

When life reduces your faith, hope and love into dirt and ashes, what do you do?


You look for a better faith.

You look for a surer hope.

You look for a truer love.

You get up.

You shake the dust off your feet.

You rise from the ashes.

And you try again...

Older....and wiser :-)

It was my birthday on Saturday (yay!) and we had a wonderful day! We went out for breakfast and had some REAL eggs benedict (unlike the ones our friend Norm had in New York :-P ). We then took our little girl fishing for the first time :) In the evening we had a few close friends come for dinner where we ate the fish our daughter caught (with some help from her Daddy :)


As in all my previous birthdays, I can say that I am another year older (dah!) but this year, unlike other birthdays gone by, I can also say with certainty that I am another year "wiser". In fact, I probably learned more this year that in all my previous years combined. Pain, afterall, is a great teacher.


After everyone had left and my wife and little girl had gone to bed, I was sitting in the living room with a beer, just "savoring" the day that had gone. My ipod was playing a song that seemed to be speaking to me. It's a song called "See the World" by Gomez (a GREAT tune from the House, MD soundtrack):

See the World

Day to day, where do you want to be?
Cuz now you're trying to pick a fight with everyone you see
You seem like a soldier
who's lost his composure
You're wounded and play a waiting game
in No-Man's-Land no one's to blame

(Chorus)
See the world,
Find an old fashion girl
And when all's been said and done
The things that are given, not won, are the things that you want

Empty-handed, surrounded by a senseless scene
With nothing of significance besides the shadow of a dream
You sound like an old joke
You're worn out, and brok-en
Asking me time and time again
And the answer's still the same (to Chorus)

You have a chance to put things right, so how's it gonna be?
Lay down your arms now
And put us beyond doubt.
So reach out it's not too far away
Don't mess around now, don't delay

I don't know if it was the day, the song, or the beer (probably the beer). But I found myself having a quiet "Okay...now what?" moment. Having "won it all" and then "lost it all", I have learned to appreciate the line in the chorus that says "The things that are given, not won, are the things that you want."...

So, on the night that I became another year "older", I took stock of what I have been "given", and decided on a "wiser" way of living the rest of my "new" life...

I have been given grace. I will live to extend grace even to those who have injured me.

I have been given forgiveness. If it takes the rest of my life to do it, I will strive to forgive those who have hurt me.

I have been given a story and a message. I will live my life to tell it.

I have been given incredible gifts of communication. I will use them to communicate what I have learned to others: Through writing, through speaking, through music.

Here's to living with what I have been given, rather than living for what I want to win.

Wanted...your stories/wisdom/input

About 15 years ago I was camping with a group of high school students. One morning before dawn one of them woke me and took me fishing. I stood on a rock in complete darkness, tossed my line out into the water (which I could not see) and waited. I remembered as I was casting the line out into "nothingness", I thought to myself, "I wonder what's out there..."

That's exactly how I am feeling as I am writing this...

One of the ways that I have coped with difficult times in the past is by writing. Physically seeing thoughts turn into words, words into sentences, sentences into paragraphs have always helped me process my thoughts and sort out what's going on inside of me. The other day as I was struggling through another bout of depression/despair, the thought occured to me, clear as a bell: "I need to write".

So, I am embarking on a writing project. In the last 2 years or so, going through depression and emotional pain has rewritten literally every page in my "belief system". One question that haunted me during this time was why after being a Christian for close to 25 years, my faith seemed so "useless" in helping me in my pain. I believe, at least in part, it's because in North American Evangelicalism, we have built a "system of faith" that does not take pain seriously. All of Scripture was written in a context of pain. Yet so often we read and intepret the Bible without taking that context seriously.

In the last 10 months, I have felt "casted out" by some of my closest "friends" in the Christian community. And yet in a strange way, pain has given me a sense of connection with the Biblical narrative. I want to write about my own journey in these last couple of years, and how pain has taught me a new way of seeing, thinking, and understanding my faith. For most people, their faith helps them to understand their pain. For me, my pain has helped me to understand my faith better.

Here is my "cast into the darkness": If you have a story from your own life on how pain has helped you see or understand your faith differently, I'd love to hear it and perhaps include it in the book. I am hoping that the sharing of our stories will spark new ideas and new thinking. Ultimately, I hope the final product will be something that will help the Church to become a kinder, more accepting, less judgemental place. In other words, I hope this project will be woven into the "grand narrative" of the church's journey towards Christ-likeness.

So, please offer me your stories, words of wisdom, advice, input, encouragement, etc. Post a comment, or if you wish, send me an email (alfred.lam@gmail.com). Looking forward to hearing from you!

On Brett Favre

They say that pain brings people together. I used to think that's just a nice way of rephrasing the good ol' cliche: "misery loves company". But I have learned that my pain has given me two important "gifts": First, being in pain has helped me understand a little better the pain of others. Secondly, being in pain has given me a sense of "commaraderie" with others who are in pain, thus teaching me that we are more alike than we are different.

Take this whole Brett Favre thing for example...

For those who are not familiar with the story, Brett Favre was the super star quarterback of the Green Bay Packers who retired at the end of last season. Since then he has decided to "unretire" only to discover that his old team has decided to move on with a new younger quarterback. After spending practically his entire career (16 years) with this one team, Favre felt he deserved to either be welcomed back or be allowed to leave and play for someone else. The team looked at the situation differently. The whole situation grew into a soap opera that hopefully will be resolved soon. Now, on one level, obviously Brett Favre and I share very little in common:

He can throw a football 50 yards. I can hardly run 50 yards.

He gets paid millions to play football. I can only dream of winning millions playing the lottery.

He is charming and good looking, especially for a man a little older.

Well...

I guess we do share something in common. :)

But what caught my eye when I was reading up on the story last week was what Favre's old coach said after meeting and talking with him for 6 hours. It was reported:

"Packers coach Mike McCarthy said Tuesday evening that after approximately six hours of what he called 'brutally honest' conversations with Favre...Favre couldn't seem to get past emotional wounds that were opened..."

For some reason, that last sentence stopped me in my tracks.

Last year, I would have been just like millions of sports fans and conclude that Favre is just another one of those super star, super rich, super spoiled professional athelete who is acting like a cry baby. I would have joined the "chorus of boos" and said "Whatever...just let it go already!"

But now, when I read what the Packers coach said about Favre's situation, about him not being able to get past his "emotional wounds", somehow, I felt a strange...connection.

Favre has played for Green Bay for approximately the same number of years I have given to my church. Him: 16 years. Me: 17.

I understand what it feels like when that relationship turns sour when you thought you can count on it.

I understand that sometimes, emotional wounds can run so deep, that it's almost inconceivable where or how or when healing can ever take place.

I can understand why everyone else wonders why I cannot just "get past" it or "move on" or "let it go"....because I have wondered about the same thing.

The Old Chinese saying goes: "Until the needle pricks your own flesh, you don't know pain."

Now that I've been "pricked"...I know.

And now these three remain...

Life is a current.

Things move. Things change.

People come. People go.

If I look beneath the surface, underneath the moving waters, what will I see?

What rocks will I find at the bottom that do not move, do not change, do not come and go?

This is my quest.

For I have learned that all of life's important things are not found floating on top, but anchored at the bottom. Like rocks.

"Where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away....And now these three remain: faith, hope and love." 1 Corinthians 13:8, 13

This is my quest.

Pain

"How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and everyday have sorrow in my heart?"
- Psalm 13:2

3:59am.

Looks like another night without sleep.

The memories won't go away. The pain doesn't stop.

Questions. Haunting questions.

How can they do this?

Robbed.

Betrayed.

"For I am about to fall, and my pain is ever with me." - Psalm 38:17

"To crush underfoot, to deny a man his rights...would not the Lord see such things?" - Lamentations 3:34-36

"People have heard my groaning, but there is no one to comfort me" Lamentations 1:21

"Your wound is as deep as the sea. Who can heal you?" Lamentations 2:13

4:15am

Another night without sleep.

"Let your tears flow like a river day and night; give yourself no relief, your eyes no rest."
Lamentations 2:18

Act of Faith

Yesterday I met up with a wonderful friend for a cup of coffee. She picked this obscure, tiny Chinese coffee shop that's tucked away in a back corner of a small Chinese plaza. I had to drive up and down the street 4 times before I finally saw it. But it was a nice quiet spot. The coffee was hot and fresh. The owner was nice. AND the place uses the highest quality toilet paper I have ever seen in any Chinese eating establishment: 3-ply Cottonelle!! The tissue paper itself was well worth the trip. But I digress...


During that conversation over coffee I said something that I only realized later as being "really cool". (I love it when that happens!) So, being the unselfish person that I am, I thought I'd share it with you here...

When I look at my life today, on the surface there is very little to suggest I am a god-believing person. I don't attend church. I don't read the Bible. I don't pray much. I don't listen to Christian music anymore (not that I have anything against Christian music...well, that's actually not true, but that's another blog entry for another day), AND because I am playing so much hockey these days and around hockey players quite a bit, I have picked up the bad habit of an occasional swear word or two :P

Please do not misunderstand me. I am not putting down any of those "religious practices". If there is one thing I learned, it's that faith is intensely personal and it manifests itself differently in different people. For me, at this stage of my 'quest', the most meaningful 'act of faith' is choosing to believe that my story has meaning, believing that Someone is writing a new page, and having the courage to want to turn the page.

Afer all, whenever you read a novel or a book, isn't every turning of the page an "act of faith" in itself? By turning the page, you are choosing to believe that the story is going somewhere, that it is building towards something. You choose to place your time in the hands of the author, "trusting" him/her to take you somewhere unexpected.

Another thing I learned about page turning: You cannot choose to keep looking at a previous page and turn to a new page at the same time. Perhaps in my case, it is also an "act of faith" to choose to take my eyes off the last page, and turn to a new one.

Life According to House

Lately, partly because I have trouble sleeping at night, I have picked up a new addiction: Watching late night reruns of "House".

For those who are not familiar with the TV series, Dr. Gregory House, the series main character is a brilliant doctor who has the personality of a cactus and the maturity of a 3 year old. Socially, he is an absolutely failure in relationships, and go to great lengths to avoid any sort of interaction with his patients. Ethically, he has no problem lying to get what he wants. Phyically, he has chronic pain in his right leg, and because of that he is addicted to pain killers. But in spite of being deeply flawed in just about every possible way, he saves lives, successfully diagnosing and treating diseases that no other doctors (in the show) could do.

I think part of the reason why I, and judging by the show's ratings, millions others are drawn to the show is that deep inside, we want to believe that in spite of our own flaws, we can live useful lives that make a difference.

The last episode I watched affected me rather deeply. A girl was brought in to the hospital who had been raped. She insisted on being treated by House, even though House found nothing medically interesting about her case. The girl refused to talk about what happened to her, but insisted on talking to House. She would talk about anything: They talked about the weather. They talked about House's past. The girl was a Christian and they debated about religious philosophy. But she wouldn't talk about herself or what happened to her.

House finally gave up and asked her why she wanted to talk to him. She said: "Because something about you tells me that you understand pain." Towards the end of the show, in a (very) rare moment of self-disclosure, House confided that he was abused by his father as a child. Upon hearing House' story, the episode ended with the girl saying: "Now I am ready to tell you what happened to me."

During my own sleepless moments, I can't help but think that perhaps my own story of pain will be useful to people, that perhaps there are people whom, like the girl in the show, NEEDS to hear it from someone who has gone through pain before being willing to say, "Now I am ready to tell you my pain."

Recently I was told by the "higher powers that be" that I am no longer 'qualifed for ministry'. It's so ironic: The very things that I feel are making me 'useful' to others: doubts, brokenness, struggles, failures, pain; are being cited as reasons why I am no longer 'qualifed'.

Perhaps part of my search is to look for a place where I will be accepted as a person rather than judged and dealt with as a "problem", where my story will be embraced as a whole rather than "white-washed", where I can be "useful" in helping people, flawed as I am.

I continue to search for that place, because I believe that's where redemption lies. To me, redemption is not a abstract theological concept or an existential state of being. Rather, redemption is finding that place where your story, not just the 'good parts', but all of it, makes sense. Redemption is finding that community where your story will be embraced in all its glory and ugliness and together, you turn the page and discover, "Wow! there is a next chapter! This leads somewhere!"

So, the search goes on...

a longing for belonging

A couple of nights ago I ran into a pastor whom I have done a couple of projects with before. Since I left the ministry, I have experienced a few such encounters with "ex-colleagues". Without exception, those encounters had happened as follows:

First, The person tried extremely hard to pretend not to see me. I once was eating in a small diner, a ministry couple I knew walked in and sat down in the next booth, literally less than an arms-length to my right. They looked over, saw me and (I am not making this up, I swear!) proceeded to bury their faces into the menus. After they put their menus down (finally!) and ordered, they locked eyes with each other as they talked, careful not to glance my way. I decided to end the awkwardness by calling out their names and said hi. What followed was the worst acting job I have ever seen as they were "surprised" that I was there.

Then, the person would go to great lengths to make the encounter as brief as possible. When I ran into that pastor couple of nights ago, I extended my hand and said hi. The person (Again, I'm not making this up) shook my hand very briefly, and walked right past me, without stopping.

Finally, and again this has happened every time so far. The person would make a vague promise about getting together, while they hurriedly backed away from me. "Let's have lunch some time", "I'll call you and have coffee", "let's chat sometime". Of course, none of those promised lunches and dinners and coffee chats had happened. Not once.

Every one of those encouters hurt, of course. It hurts when people whom you once worked with now try to pretend you don't exist. But during my more clear-headed moments, I reflected back on my whole experience and I realized perhaps there is an important realization here:

As a church, we are not good with people.

Sure, we want people. All kinds of people. We want capable people to run our committees, loving people to teach our kids, generous people to support our budgets, musical people to lead our services, and so on. But when people make mistakes and stumble, in other words, when people actually, simply behave like people, we don't know what to do with them.

I don't attend church anymore. But deep inside, there is a longing to belong somewhere. If I ever go to church again, all the things that were important for me to find in a church won't apply anymore. I don't think I will care much if the teaching is fantastic, or if the music is polished, or if there is a great Sunday School program, etc. I simply want to go somewhere where I will be treated as a person. A place where people recognize that we are no better or no worse than one another. A place that acknowledges the reality of our sinfulness but at the same time respects, honors and celebrates the dignity of our personhood. A place that we can share the brokenness in each of our stories, and at the same time look forward to the healing and redemption that may come as we turn the pages together...

"sometimes you wanna go
where everybody knows your name;
and they're always glad you came...

you wanna go where people know
that people are all the same
you wanna go where everybody knows your name

you wanna go where people know
our troubles are all the same
you wanna go where everybody knows your name..."

On Fireworks and Friendships

Last night I went with a few friends to watch the Canada Day fireworks show at Miliken Park in Scarborough. I first proposed the idea because I wanted to learn to photograph fireworks, and since my two other friends are also into photography and we are all at the same level, I thought it'll be a good learning experience together.

So the five of us walked over to the park together. We started getting excited when we saw how packed the park was. "Wow, with this many people showing up, this must be good!" Unfortunately, the fireworks show itself wasn't that impressive. And since this was our first attempt at fireworks photography, we made plenty of rookie mistakes which we hopefully will not repeat in our next attempt. (Lesson #1: When photographing fireworks, do not set up your tripod in front of a tall tree)

So we were all standing there watching lame fireworks and taking pictures of a tall dark tree at night. But somehow we were having a great time with each other. In between blast of fireworks, it occured to me that since I resigned from the church almost 10 months ago (!), I have found my most faithful friendships in the most unexpected places. The old cliche goes: "A friend is someone who walks in when the world walks out." While I had experienced much of the "walking out" from those whom I thought I could count on, I have learned to treaure those who have decided to "walk in", like those whom I was with last night.

They were part of a group of young(er) folks that we used to "mentor" when I was with the church. Over the years the "mentor-mentee" relationship had transformed into a genuine friendship among peers. (Part of that no doubt happened because they quickly discovered I really didn't have anything to offer as a "mentor" :). Since "the incident" happened, they were the one group that had absolutely refused to abandon us. They kept coming over to the house to hang out and to eat. They kept including us in weekend activities and day trips. Even though they didn't know and much less understood what had happened and what I am going through, I felt loved, accepted and respected by them.

This comes through even in the little things: For years, whenever we eat together I was the "go to guy" to pray for the food. For different reasons, I have stopped "saying grace" before meals while I struggle and try to figure out what it means to authentically live as a person of faith. The first time we sat down for a meal after my resignation, without missing a beat, they all just bow and prayed privately for the meal. There was no big speech, no awkward silence as people look around for someone to "do the prayer". They all just bowed, took a moment to pray, and got on with the food. It was almost their way of saying, "It doesn't matter if you are our pastor. It matters more that you are our friend."

As the last blast of fireworks faded into the evening, we packed up our cameras and walked back to the car. We laughed about the poor fireworks, we laughed about our poorer attempts to photograph them, we laughed about how much a waste of time it was. In the midst of that laughter, I felt strangely blessed. It was only appropriate. Afterall, I was among friends.

Photography: Learning to See

In my last entry I mentioned that during the darkest and most painful periods in my life, I have picked up different hobbies and interests which have taught me valuable lessons about life. In the last couple of years, I have discovered a new passion: photography.


The word "photography" literally means "writing with light". By definition, photography isn't about producing a nice picture. It is a form of communicating, a form of writing if you will. It is using an image to communicate a message. Sometimes the message hits you in the face like a stiff punch. Sometimes it wants you to slow down and ponder. Other times it captures a "moment" and invites you to imagine the rest of the 'story'. But regardless, good photography is about communication. While spoken communication goes from my lips to your ears, photography goes from my eyes to yours.


My interest in photography goes beyond the technical "shop talk" like focal lengths and shutter speeds. (Having said that, I am still a big sucker for the newest and latest gadget that promises to turn me into a Pulitzer Prize winner. Give me a break, I am a guy!) I got into photography because it teaches me to do something that most of us take for granted: Photography teaches me how to see.


Seeing, I have learned, is a decisive, deliberate act. It involves 2 choices: You choose what you see, and you choose what not to see. You make that choice by manipulating the lens on your camera. You zoom in and out to decide what you include and exclude in your image.

A few days ago I caught myself thinking of the past, about the way I was hurt by the church and felt myself sinking into despair. I happened to have my camera with me and I took it out to take some pictures of flowers. The camera forces me to focus and see the beauty around me: I saw the brilliant colors, the perfect texture and shape of each petal, and it occured to me that in this world of ugliness, there is beauty. What I see depends on what lens I decide to look through.

Here are a few shots I took that day: http://picasaweb.google.com/alfred.lam/ADayAtTheNursery

Lessons learned along the way...

Recently I took stock of where my life has been for the last 20 years or so. During these past 2 decades, there has been 2 or 3 noticable "tough patches"; long periods of time when things were very difficult. As I looked back, I discovered something interesting: During each of these tough periods, the way I coped with life was to develop a new hobby/interest. And each of those hobbies taught me philosophical lessons that made me grow as a person. I thought this may be a good place to share some of those with you...

In the early nineties, I was dealing with a painful situation in my own family. During those days, as a way of escaping the stress, I picked up marathon running. There are a lot of ways in which running a marathon mirrors life. But the one lesson that has stayed with me and is helping me to this day is this: a race, no matter how long, can only be run one step at a time.

A marathon measures 26 miles, 385 yards or 41.195 km. That is roughly the distance between the East end of Scarborough and the West end of Mississauga. That's a long way to run. There are times during the late stages of a marathon when you body is completely out of fuel. Runners call it 'hitting the wall'. When that happens, you cannot think of how many miles is left to the finish line. The only thing you can do is to focus all your mental and physical energies to the most important task at hand: taking the next step. You pick up your foot, move it forward, and put it down. When you have done that, you do it again with your other foot.

One step at a time. These days, it is that training and experience that is getting me through the days. There are days when I wake up and I feel completely spent. I wanted to look back at the past and feel angry. I look ahead to the future and feel fearful and uncertain. On those days, I draw from my marathon running days and remind myself to just focus on one step, one task at a time...

"don't think about the past which you can't change"

"don't think about the future which you can't control"

"don't think about what others say and do which you can't dictate"

"focus on doing this one thing....for now."

I cannot tell you how many times that routine has gotten me through a day. One task at a time, one step at a time.

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PS: After I finished blogging this entry, it hit me why the imagery of running has always connected with me as a metaphor for my life. Beyond the obvious physical benefits, the one thing that has always drawn me to running is the loneliness of the sport. As a distance runner, you log mile after mile, hour after hour, day after day, running alone. Even in a major marathon race with more than 10,000 participants, you are really running alone. I guess that is how I have always felt - alone.

PS-1: May be that's why the story of 'Footprints" has never resonnated with me...I have never seen that 'second pair' of footprints...

PS-2: If you happen to be running down my street...I'd love to run with you. Please...

Thoughts after the earthquake...

"If you go about looking for a God to fill your own 'God-shaped void' inside your heart, you will end up with a 'void-shaped God'".



Not sure where I have seen that quote before (It may be a paraphrase). But I find myself thinking about that a lot these days when I watch the latest news coverage of the Sichuan earthquake.



As I watch the incredible devastation and the loss of lives, it occured to me that surely, if there is a God, His agenda is bigger than sqeezing Himself into the "void's" of different shapes and sizes in each human's heart.

Perhaps the point of a life of faith or a life of calling isn't so much in looking for God to fill the "God-Shaped Vaccum" inside my heart, but for me to look for the "Alfred-Shaped Vaccum" in this world. A need, a space, that God is looking for me to uniquely fill....