"Just Doing What I Was Supposed To Do"

How do I describe what happened? It is complicated – but makes perfect sense.

A week ago last Thursday our oldest daughter Dana became very ill. It seems a virus of some sort has attacked her system and the side effects have been nasty. With the extreme nausea she dropped in her fluid intake to the point that one week after she began the gruelling ordeal we took her to the hospital where the Emergency crew administered 3 large units of fluid through an IV – then released her that evening.

Dana and Bruce have two kids. One is Clifford who is a typical 13 year old boy. If he is fed and has a warm place to sleep, gets some exercise physically and mentally he is happy. The other is Clifford’s sister Emma, who is 9 years old – and is a very different person. Her needs are to be the nurse, take care of her dolls and others.

When Dana has been feeling so terrible Emma is the one that has expressed the care openly. Clifford cares, but in a different way I am sure.

Emma came home to her sick mommy and told mom that she had written about her mom in her journal at school for the teacher to read. It was the major thing in her life that day as she walked to school alone. Her world was upside down with mom not functioning well.

At home she came by the couch where mom was laying and checked to see how her patient was doing. Could it be that at 9 years old a nurse or a doctor is starting to appear? She had told Doctor Hurst, the family doctor a few years back, that she intended to be a doctor like him. She was about 5 years old then.

This past Sunday Bruce was working and Dana was resting at home still not 100%. The kids were at church with us.

Pause here to explain something about the church…
Our church believes in asking God for help. We do that by praying for each other. At a certain time in the morning service we slow things down and ask if there is anyone in the congregation that day that might need prayer. The people are asked to come forward to allow the pastor to lay hands on them and ask for prayer for their special burden. We have prayed for financial needs, family crisis and physical problems. In fact we pray for anything that might be pressing that day on the congregation that is attending.

It made sense to me that we pray for Dana, our daughter, who had been so ill for so long. As I moved out of my pew as a Congregant in need, no one would know my problem. I approached Alida and whispered that I would like to go forward for prayer for Dana. Emma was between us. It was natural that we all three go together. There we walked down the long aisle, Grandpa on onside, Grandma on the other and Emma between us holding hands. It was the perfect setting for faith.

Our turn came for prayer and Pastor Herb approached us. I explained about Dana’s illness and need for prayer. Emma listened closely. I explained that Emma had been taking care of her mom at home and was here to ask prayer for her.

Pastor Herb then spoke to Emma and told her what he was going to pray and how he wanted Emma to return home and pray for her mom.

It was a beautiful and simple family moment when we stopped to ask our God to heal our daughter. It is all that I know when I am helpless and don’t know what to do. And last Thursday as I took my daughter and wife to the Emergency department was one of those “not knowing what to do” moments – when things are bleak and there is no where else to turn.

Later…
In the middle of the afternoon I called to see how Dana was doing. Emma answered the phone for her mom who was still lying on the couch resting. I asked Emma if she had told her mom that we had prayed for her at church. Emma’s reply was the most important part of my week… and settled any issues that I had faced in my confusing world…

“Grandpa I told mom what we did in church today. Then I put my hand on her head and prayed for her. I did what I was supposed to do.”

I kind of gulped at that moment. I said, “Emma, you are amazing! You are going to be great Nurse or Doctor or maybe even a Minister someday.”

She flatly replied, “I just did what I was supposed to do.”

Dana came on the telephone next. She described the same account about her 9 year old angel of mercy and faith. And then Dana told me that she started to feel better after that prayer and the room had stopped spinning.

I know that this is a simple family story that I almost spoil by telling it. It is a private moment for a Grandpa and his Granddaughter. But is so much more than that… It is simple faith that can move mountains and build life where death reigns and rules…where problems are so impossible that they burry us… and faith can say “It doesn’t have to be this way – I will pray and God will hear me!”

If I could capture what Emma has and some how offer it to a great big hurting world… I could solve every problem around me and maybe even all the problems of the whole world.

Along time ago Jesus said some words that ring so true this morning. Matthew recorded what happened when Jesus said these words…
2He called a little child and had him stand among them. 3And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 18:2-4)

The admonition is simple for me. “If you don’t catch a hold on the simple faith that young girls like Emma have you are not even going to make it to Heaven – let alone make it in Heaven!”

For some the culture shock will be too great… they won’t fit in Heaven… they had little or no faith on Earth… and Heaven would simply blow their minds!

Today I face a waiting world and a needy one at that. I need a tiny bit of what Emma has learned so well. I am going to take this world on and all its battles with a new perspective – and simply in Emma’s terms of reference, “I just going to do what I am supposed to do.”

May your day be filled with an “Emma like approach” to everything – and then you will be able to say at the end of the day…“I just did what I was supposed to do.”

~ Murray Lincoln ~

Source
Gateway Bible
http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?book_id=47&chapter=18&verse=2&end_verse=4&version=31&context=context

J.S.R. and the Broken World

I was deeply moved as I read the account of the trial of J.S.R. The accounts given in our Friday newspaper is difficult to comprehend. As one of the attending officers at the Crime Scene that day shared her story it revealed the sorry state our society is in.

Constable Angel Kahnt described what she saw taking place the day the gun shots – at least 8 of the shots and 41 bullet fragments – splashed all over Yonge Street in downtown Toronto on 2005 Boxing Day.

Young guys like J.S.R. were trying to act out what they have witnessed in movies and games. One person doing the shooting was holding the gun flat wise – “bad boy cool” – which does not aim at any thing but rather splashes shots everywhere and serves only to show how really stupid you are… if you are the shooter.

Some of the account tells how the people all around the dying girl were busy taking her photo with cell phone cameras…and today have some of these shots as cell phone background photos…carried in memory of this young girl – I assume.

The officer told how she came up to the actual gun shooting scene to discover another young black man that had been shot as well. He was busy talking on his cell phone while laying on the street… his two friends with him were also talking on their phones as well.

When the officer arrived at the scene people were fleeing everywhere…while others stood close by to take photos. Some were hiding for their lives and others were standing there taking photos.

J.S.R. was caught later with a gun that had shot bullets at the crime scene – but it was not the murder weapon. It is still out there somewhere along with the actual shooter.

My summary is short and I may only get a small portion of what really happened.

My reflections on what took place are much longer and they won’t leave my head. One young girl, 15 year old Jane Creba, has taken our imaginations and heart with the tragedy of that day. But one “J.S.R.” – an unknown almost 20 year now with his name not given – because he was only 17 when the crime took place has also left his mark.

Who is J.S.R.? One good guess is that he is an insecure, young black man that lives in a confusing place, likely with some good in a family somewhere, but likely also with some really bad friends that he felt he must align himself with…in order to feel good. Transporting a lethal weapon that day was his security…whether he used it or not.

The other day as I headed downtown Peterborough by a back door route, the railway tracks on my bicycle, I met at least two J.S.R.s. Both were dressed to adapt to a “bad boy” world. There was a definite look about them that screamed attitude. The odd thing is that they are “white boys” acting like “black bad boys”. That doesn’t fit in Peterborough’s extremely white community.

No I wasn’t afraid. I greeted them both and they smiled back at me. Not sure they heard me in that one was listening to his ear buds and the other was text messaging on his cell phone looking up once in a while for old guys on bikes and stones to trip on at the side of the railroad tracks. But both were young men heading some where…dressed for attention and acting out whatever.

J.S.R. was a young man heading some where and acting out. But how far he was from whatever his mom had planned and hoped for him?

To state that I am scared silly to have to face a world that is so disjointed and broken is an understatement. I do not want to shop in Toronto let alone live there…and I have in the past. We have walked through the “bad boy areas” and have been right to the very spot, while shopping, where Jane Creba died. It is close to home.

What is really close to home is 6 grandkids…four that live closer to the GTA and 2 that live near us. They are coming into the possible “bad boy” stage. So far none have shown anything bad out of the normal. For this I am very thankful.

Yesterday I watched a good football game in pouring rain. The cheers of the men and women under umbrellas from the sideline were warming. On the muddy field were two full teams of super muddy and cold kids. This is Kinsmen Football on Saturday morning – which is backed by practice three to four nights a week.

In our community the Kinsmen care. And they work extra hard to put kids into these situations. It is amazing to witness the power of one community group on what is happening here. There are 8 Teams fully uniformed and supported by one group of great community volunteers.
J.S.R. comes from a broken world. Where if you were able to take a close look at the community closely – he may just never have had the opportunity to connect.

I am praying today for men and women of the J.S.R. world – to stand and be counted…make some changes and help… and then I am praying for our leaders that will catch sight of what needs to be done and do it.

I am praying also for the trial of J.S.R. and all that are affected by this. The Creba family are the victims and will live without their daughter – forever. When it is all over they will be only a story that will have to be searched for in Newspaper files.

I am praying for J.S.R. and the other young men that were there that day. If they are not already dead, I pray they will have another chance and that the truth will come out for the Creba family.

“God you know where they are today and I pray that you will continue to do what you do best – bring about justice and mercy.”

As the trial unfolds this week we will hear more. When we do – would you pray with me for these folks. They certainly need it.

~ Murray Lincoln ~

Source:
http://www.thestar.com/GTA/Crime/article/523707
http://www.thestar.com/GTA/Crime/article/523706

Wisdom of an Old Farmer

Time has just about buried me with new problems for today. My friend Brenda forwarded a forward… to me. Today it makes sense to receive these words from an old farmer… I have no greater wisdom to offer.

~ Murray Lincoln ~

*Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong.
* Keep skunks and bankers and lawyers at a distance.
* Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.
* A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.
* Words that soak into your ears are whispered...not yelled.
* Meanness don't jes' happen overnight.
* Forgive your enemies. It messes up their heads.
* Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.
* It don't take a very big person to carry a grudge.
* You cannot unsay a cruel word.
* Every path has a few puddles.
* When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.
* The best sermons are lived, not preached.
* Most of the stuff people worry about ain't never gonna happen anyway.
* Don't judge folks by their relatives.
* Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
* Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll enjoy it a second time.
* Don't interfere with somethin' that ain't botherin' you none.
* Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.
* If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'.
* Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.
* The biggest troublemaker, you'll probably ever have to deal with,
watches you from the mirror every mornin'.
* Always drink upstream from the herd.
* Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes
from bad judgment.
* Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in.
* If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence,
try orderin' somebody else's dog around.
* Live simply.
* Love generously.
* Care deeply.
* Speak kindly.

Internet Addiction

My heart aches this morning as I look at the front page of the Star Newspaper. There is a mom being hugged by a supporter. Her son is gone. He disappeared on Thanksgiving Day in Canada – 13 days ago.

They are now looking in the bush around the area and also offering a huge reward for information of his whereabouts.

Is it a criminal case – maybe someone kidnapped him and has taken him far away? No – it is worse. The Xbox game that his parents gave him and a stupid game – called “Call or Duty 4” has kidnapped their son. He is addicted. When they took the game away from him – again for the 21st time… he reacted and took off…. and hasn’t been seen since.

The potential tragedy is that he has possibly hidden in the bush – maybe even acting out what the game portrays and could be suffering from the cold weather – or even worse.

This is one really bad example of something so much fun – having gone really bad. His is addicted. It isn’t Meth or Crack or something evil like these drugs – it is a stupid game that has taken his mind far, far away. His mom and dad didn’t lose him on Thanksgiving – it happened long before that.

But “Call of Duty 4” is not the only problem. Another very popular game is “World of Warcraft”. It has also grabbed many hundreds of thousands at any one time to suck the Brain JUICE from them.

I have met many locally that have confessed that they play this game for hours upon hours at a time. They buy time to play with real money and then spend REAL TIME – even working hours at a good jobs that they skip to stay home and play. Some have lost their jobs because of it.

Some have lost their marriages as well.

One Bible College student that I spoke with has finally left his studies entirely and taken a simple job to allow him more time to play the game and simply buy the on-line time that he needs to play.

This addiction is real.

Brandon Crisp’s story shows us a really sad tale that has come about because of an addiction.
In my real life I have discovered another group of “addicted beings”. They are people that can never leave the Internet alone… they have email-itis, chat room fever, text message pains and a need to be constantly connected.

The old days of teens being hooked on a telephone and a call from outside not getting in… is gone. They now have moved on to many other kinds of communication tools…gaming…texting…cell phones… you name it.

The really odd thing is the parents have joined them. I know a mother that Text messages her son in the bedroom when supper is ready. I know a married couple that never talk except when they dialogue on the World of Warcraft from two different machines in the same house!!!! Now that is weird. But then I saw a couple Text Message each other across the table when on a DATE with each other. NO KIDDING! It really happened.

When my electronics comes between me and FRESH AIR I have a problem. When my Gaming comes between me and my family there is trouble brewing. When my e-World tries to take over my real world – I have e-PROBLEMS… and need deliverance.

The Christian faith has within it a belief that Jesus, our Savor, will return for us all. It is called the Rapture in the Christian tradition. I am afraid today for most so called Christians – they will miss the rapture call on that last day because of their complete addiction to the e-WORLD they are in.

Recently in a family setting where we were sharing after the funeral … a group of the departed grandmother’s grandchildren were all in the basement of the family home – playing games. It was the first up front exposure with World of Warcraft that I had. About 15 people were in the room watching the action of three of them on three laptops that were set up playing WOW. The young adults told me of days when some will call in sick to their jobs – because they played the game all night. They also told me stories of how they play through the night and on into the day – pausing moments to call in sick… and continuing to play all day. It was all that some could do to attend the FUNERAL of their GRANDMOTHER…because they had to leave the game on pause!!!!

Now that is addictive life styling. But did it ever look like fun!

In a Pastor’s Group I connect with on the Internet I have found great support and great people that pray with me and stay with me through thick and thin. But sadly a number in that group are there all the time… I mean ALL THE TIME!

If I visit their comments in the morning… and read it all… it keeps me up to date and in the conversations all the way… if I wait until the evening to look again there are HUNDREDS of posts that have come in that same day – from the same group. I can count posts from certain people and the number would stagger you… and it might stagger their own congregations…. AND I HAVE TO KEEP MYSELF IN CHECK ON THIS ONE… I read everything… and think about it a lot… and I know where I have to cut back….

Do you have that same urge to be always connected? Could it be that even solitaire has a hold on you?

Read the article that is shown with this “Source:” below. See if you can identify with it.

Have a FRESH AIR DAY… and connect with someone not on the Internet! Real people are good too.

~ Murray Lincoln ~

Source:
http://www.thestar.com/article/523702

POOF....

Poof – I woke up. It was over – or was it starting?

The classes have ended… graduation of sorts took place in a couple of minutes with a Certificate handed out to us. We exchanged emails with the idea that 5 very unlike people might stay in touch. Except for the email address – I was whisked back to my 18th year and the end of high school again. Now what?

Bouncing out of bed this AM meant – “Now what?” You have got a whole week until the next scheduled appointment… is it PJ Day? Yard work day? Or maybe nothing day?

They warned me that it could happen – a down day away from responsibility. A day that you might simply fiddle with emails until lunch time comes. A day when you crash… “That will never happen to me!” – I had thought to myself.

One time I listened to an older man that was self employed. He gave some great advice. He said, “I can’t do anything until I feel inspired. So before 9:00 AM every day I get myself ready and by 9:00 AM I AM INSPIRED whether I like to be or not.”

These were Great Words from a successful person.

Between Oct 22 and Oct 23 – something happened. I moved from one life to the next. I am responsible suddenly to make it happen. Funny thing is before that was true – but today it is more true. The buck suddenly stops here and responsibility floats in to grab the attention of my little mind. Funny enough – people immediately started telling me what I should or shouldn’t do with my time.

If you followed some of my posts to date – I moved from the position of Senior Pastor to the ranks of Unemployed. (To make everyone around me feel better we called it early retirement.) Then with an interesting turn of events I entered the world of possibilities – starting my own small business… “Wood Carving”. Some where before and during that time I am engaged in building a successful ministry to Leaders of our Province – at this point a kind of sideline – moving to the forefront steadily. It is like having two parallel jobs. Instead of being busy – I am now double busy.

My coach had told me about the possibility of waking up to a “day of funky”. She has said that you may wake up to a feeling of being overwhelmed and even crashing when you think of what you will have to do. Her advice is go back to bed… if it is bad… just don’t go back to bed every day. One of the simple solutions is to get up and get dressed…get moving… get your butt in gear.

One man that I spoke with last week shared his secret of working from home. He gets ready to go to work the same as he always has for the past 35 years. Then he heads out of the house to a local coffee shop. After coffee he heads back home and into the New Office – at home. He starts work the same as before. Somewhere between his eyes opening and entering his office that morning purpose sets in…new lists for that day take over.

In the old job and ministry – there were different bosses. There was a schedule to keep and people to meet. There was one clear boss…kind of… In the new one… there are different bosses… schedules to keep… and people to meet. Come to think of it not much has changed – except now I have a few more bosses. At last count I have ten today… and everyone has a new idea of what I should be doing right now. Each of today’s ten bosses have no idea what the other nine bosses are demanding.

Whoever thought working for yourself was easier is nuts! Whoever thought working from home is a breeze – has never done it.

But the freedom is cool. It is nice to not have to do it you don’t want to… It is nice to simply let up a bit and the old pressure has evaporated…no more heavy debt and heavy problems of church… just all the new ones that I didn’t have before.

Sure I will keep up “the romantic /idea feeling” that people have… I am retired early… kind of… it even makes me feel better.

Poof… I just woke up… it is really time to get my butt in gear. I gotta get to the office. People are counting on me. I have to meet with the 10 different bosses before lunch today… and then get some work done this afternoon.

See you tomorrow… gotta run.

Oh – Oh another one of the bosses just called. In fact this one is from Head Office of all Home Office Based Companies. He wants a PART OF MY LIFE BEFORE THE OTHER 10 BOSSES GET TO ME. His name is God. He just asked to me to, “Be still and know that I am God”. Okay… I will.

~ Murray Lincoln ~

Misty Hollow

“Where’re you going Grandpa?” My short legs followed his stride through the tall golden grass out past Grandma’s garden. The grass was dry and shimmered in the sun. It led us to the edge of the farm yard that was marked by the fence line. Grandpa bent over and slipped through the fence wire and then held the wire down for me to scamper through. He still hadn’t answered me.
Then he said, “I want to show you a special place no one knows about. Want to come along and see?” My short legs quickened my pace as I followed him over the little rise up ahead. He was taking me somewhere special – his and my secret I was sure. The golden grass rustled as we walked along.

I was maybe eight years old. Mom and Dad had brought us down to the old farm from the city for this weekend – and then the kids stayed with Grandpa and Grandma while they got a way for a few days down to North Dakota and Montana. My brother and sister were back at the farm house with Grandma.

It was just me and Grandpa. I was the oldest grandson out of all the grandkids – and grandsons were really important to Grandpa… better than the girls I was sure.

As we walked over the rise… suddenly down below us was the Hollow. That day there was a kind of haze, a mist that formed when the weather was just right. It hung in the Hollow.

The Hollow was carved out of the countryside by water running down from the Blue Hills in the distance. In the bottom of the Hollow was the “crick”.

It was maybe a quarter mile until we arrived at a special place in the Hollow where Grandpa stopped, sat down and just looked. He was quiet and so was everything around us. Only the never ending sound of the prairie wind was there – the forever wind. When you were down in the Hollow it was quiet with a peace that almost bothered young boys.

Grandpa simply sat there and savored it all. This was his quiet place and he was sharing it with me. He pulled out his pocket knife and began to carve on a stick that he had fetched from the willow tree. A slice here and a cut there, another few cuts over on this side… something was happening. A new “something” was appearing in front of my eyes. It wasn’t long before he handed me the brand new willow flute and said, “Try it.”

Amazing! From that small fresh branch he had quickly carved a willow flute.

Then something else happened that was even more magical. He reached into his pocket and pulled out pocket knife and gave it to me. “This one is yours. Try it and see what you can make.”
As I began whittling on a stick he gave me, he sat quietly looking over the Hollow. It was as if he had been here many times. It was his special place away from the noisy places in his life. This day he was sharing it with me. It was our quiet place together – just me and Grandpa, our pocket knives and the Hollow.

In my mind it was “Misty Hollow” and has remained that way for 56 years. Grandpa is gone now… and I am a Grandpa. And now I return to the Hollow every once in a while – in my mind.

In the past few years I was able to go back and actually see it again personally. The peace is still there and the wind is always blowing. Nothing has changed in the Hollow. The old farm is only a memory now. The row of bushes around Grandma’s garden are still there but there is no evidence of the life that used to live there, of the happy and sad days, of the noise of the house and the need to get out to sit somewhere in the Hollow.

Everyone needs a Misty Hollow. Over the years I have been able to find one wherever I have lived. I walk out to it away from the madness of my life.

About 10 years ago I joined some friends for a very early morning meeting on top of one of our highest hills. It was just before sunrise. Few people below were up yet. From the top of Amour Hill you can watch the beauty of the sunrise.

There to the east was the glowing ball rising again. Down below the mist had gathered in the dozens of Hollows that lay to the east. Each Misty Hollow was a place where some one lived. The smoke hung from some one’s chimney mixed with the mist of the early morning. It was so peaceful in the Hollow.

My Aboriginal friends told me that they believe these Hollows were made by the finger of God as he created the earth – making a special place for people to love – a place of peace.

Back to the Family Farm…
Grandpa went to the Hollow often. I imagine it was to escape the fact that the house was small and with 8 kids at the fullest time, there was always noise in his life.

When his first son was born a paraplegic, I imagine that is when he found the need to go there.

When times were really tough through the “dirty thirties” he likely walked there a lot too.

During the Second World War, when his one son was possibly going to be shipped out overseas – he walked there more often.

In his pocket was the same knife that he cut apples with, whittled his wooden sticks and also dug out the manure/mud from his boot treads. He cleaned the knife on his pant leg between uses…but that is another story about Grandpa…

Back home…
Wherever “Home” has been in my life I have always found and kept a "Misty Hollow" for me. In these past years I have retreated there often when the swirl of the business was nuts. When the human hurt around me is bigger than my soul can bear I retreat to the Misty Hollow again and again.

Today I welcome you to Misty Hollow. I haven’t taken many here – only my friends… and my grandkids.

After you spend some time with me… I hope you will find a Misty Hollow of your own.

~ Murray Lincoln ~
PS – Misty Hollow is where Misty Hollow Carvings come from – now you know my secret. Please tell some one…

“Q1 UltraMobile PC” WOW!

Remember the Library – that really old fashioned place with books? Remember the long rows of shelving and the 6 foot high rack of shelves – with rows and rows of books?

Remember the old days of having to go to the Library to get your research done from books?...you would write the information on to sheets of paper…then later re-write again into another homework paper you were writing – which would then be written long hand on to a good copy. And if you needed a copy of that one – you hand wrote again…

Today I read of a new Samsung computer called the “Q1 UltraMobile PC”. I want one and I want it now. It is the size of an actual pocket book with a large screen, keyboard to be used by your thumbs on each side and a big enough hard drive to hold almost half the books in your old library of your high school. No kidding – its small but huge.
I want one.

Not long ago when I lived in Hong Kong, only 25 years ago now, we bought the first few computers. Actually we built the machines from parts we bought in the market. Hong Kong was central place on earth at that time to buy cheap computers. They were the first desk tops and were able to hold a whole bunch of information on 5 ¼ inch floppy disks. What an amazing thing to have almost 1/3 of a million bites on a thin and floppy disk that cost so little. But then the next level came with a 3 ½ inch floppy that was actually stiff plastic but held about four times what the first floppies did. What a rush to witness this change again.

I wanted one then – but couldn’t afford it.

Now speed back through time to Regina, Saskatchewan and 1966. I was a newly minted, apprentice, computer technician. I was given the task to follow a real computer technician. He took me to the Wheat Pool Company in a huge building. We walked into the humming computer room. The room was bigger than a two car garage and had racks upon racks of electronic components stacked on the shelving with thousands of wiring cables strung from unit to unit connecting it all together. Over in the corner was a noisy card sorter that was flying through punch cards and gleaning information to generate a report and prepare mailing lists – that when reported they would be transcribed by secretaries at the old mechanical typewriters.

The one component that we carried out that day to repair was 35 pounds. It had two chrome handles on the front that would allow the extraction and transportation of this unit back to a repair shop.

Man oh man… only very large companies like the Wheat Pool of Saskatchewan could afford that million upon millions of dollars for such a luxurious item.

That massive machine was likely 1/10th of the Samsung “Q1 UltraMobile PC” which I would love to have… for only $1300 dollars.

My how things have changed.

On a warm Saturday afternoon last week I watched a Bumble Bee hover over the last few flowers in the back yard. He was maintaining an altitude just over the flowers, then dropping quickly to the top of the flower and stopping to look inside the petals… then quickly deciding he had enough he was off. I followed his flight to the next yard and then the next… we was busy and heading home…maybe a few blocks away.

How does it know where to go, which flower is the right flower and then get back home with the treasures that he collected?

I also watched the geese doing their practice flights together. The tight V shape is powerful and the honking of each goose is encouragement to the others with the flock. They will cover thousands of miles each year – flying from one area to another – both areas are familiar to the geese. And this will happen for about 20 years of their lifespan.

Buried in the small brain of the goose and the possible control center of a bee(I have no idea if they have a brain..) is that ability to compute their way from one place to another. It is amazing when you think of the relative distance that these creatures cover.

That thought brought me to our brains and the ability contained therein. Not only does it have information of every book ever read and stored but also it can remember smell, taste, images, feelings and emotions.

The other day my mom was talking about something that happened almost 75 years ago. It was as if it had just happened. Her brain is 87 years old and still clicking along. There is no hard drive, no floppy disk, no electronic storage of bits and bites – only soft tissue bathed in supporting fluid… WOW!

Now I need one of those. Or maybe I just to use the one that I have. The emotions that I felt writing this, the smell of that first compute room in the Wheat Pool, the smell of the markets that we purchased the first computer components in… and so much more came flooding back as I wrote these words.

And the words still flow around ideas that are coming to fast to type out…

I didn’t sleep well last night. The crazy brain wouldn’t quit – too many ideas. So at 4 AM I rose, went out to my workshop and carved 12 new feathers, then I took out the garbage, wrote this simple 963 word article and now am ready for breakfast.

I can’t wait until today gets rolling…more thoughts and more opportunity…

How about you?

Isn’t God amazing?!

~ Murray Lincoln ~


Source:
http://www.informationweek.com/video/personaltechnology/1784521741