The Good Life Bundle

In pursuit of evidence based, scientific medicine with standard, proven approaches that can be replicated the Fathers of Medicine decided to implement care bundles.  They said, "If you do this set of preventative care activities for surgery, when caring for a urinary or central line catheter, or what have you, your patient will do better.  We have studied it, we have tried it and here are our results."

In my meager understanding of science, you test one hypothesis and control for all the other variables.  Not in medicine, because Grandma's life is on the table, we tend to throw everything we had at the problem.  SO it goes away right.  Give a fever enough anti-pyretic and guess what it will go away!  But the underlying infection will not.  Anyway, I am not a doctor by the way.  I just look at their work after they are done...hence the cynicism.

I was wound up the last 3 or 4 days.  I was on the edge.  For my various reasons I went to work and focused hard on my work.  Did my school work intently and came home tight lipped, lid shut.  More school work and a few absolutely necessary words to my wife and that was it.  I prayed about it, I got paid and I was told my assignment was not due today anyway.  I am good now!  I just threw a care bundle on my problem.

Laugh with me.

I Love You

The three little words!  Or two if you prefer French, one complex word in Shona.  I grew up in a society where these three little words were almost sacred.  It was a big deal for me to tell anyone I loved them.  I was not showered by them growing up.  Before I left home, I hugged my dad all of two times and my mom maybe a dozen.  They loved me, but they never said it out loud.  The first time I remember Pops professing his love for me was over a telephone line from across the sea.

I love my wife.  I love Jesus.  I love my parents, siblings, friends, in-laws, nephews and nieces.  I love my church, my pastors.  I love music.  I love my car.  I love my motorcycle.  I love the mountains, being outside...I love warm socks.  Can you see how this word is strange.

I hear Greek has plenty of words for love - fraternal love, erotic love, paternal love and there is one that has been translated to mean 'true love' i.e. the ultimate love as shown by God.

Here is my shame: I love all of the above, yet my behaviour does not always confess my love.  Yes, I surely love my wife in the 'big' ways - I buy her stuff, I cook for her, I let her go first, have the bigger piece, I listen to her and respect her whole being.  How about when I talk smack about her to my friends?  Or when I look at other women inappropriately?  I love God as shown by my obedience and my desire to live in a manner pleasing to Him.  Yet I do not always live in a manner pleasing to Him.

So in reality, and accuracy should I say, "I partly love you," or maybe, "I love you, but I will disappoint you"?

My demons won't go to church

I sometimes wonder if the Lord really cares as much as the Bible says.  He is not always as involved as I think He should be, and sometimes I even think I attend church as a habit or a social obligation.  Then there are days like today, when I leave church thinking, "I will mess this up sooner or later, but right now I know I have done the right thing.  It is well in my soul this instant.  I was in the presence of the Most High God."

I rue the knowledge that I will get home, sleep, wake up to work and school and annoyance and temptation and before the week, no the day is done all the 'imps' I lost on Sunday will be found hanging off my shoulders again trying to find a way into my head.  It is as if they knew I was going to church and they stayed at home to pounce on me as I leave for work.

That is why I trust in Him.  That is why Christ is my merit, my righteousness, my advocate and my champion.

The Things of Old

People talk about the 'good old days' as the present gets darker.  I remember the old days being pretty tough.  Very much like the present.  Maybe they are good now because we survived them.  We have a saying were I am from which I will loosely translate - you are good once you are dead.  No one talks smack at our funerals.  I attended one were the preacher was very honest and said even if someone stole chickens most of their adult life, when they die, everyone has nothing but praise for them.  Why is that?  The good days and things of old.


I watched Voltron again.  I watched it first when I was a child.  It was amazing then.  I am sure I was very upset on days I had to miss it for one reason or another.  As an aside, I know now there is magic involved, but I always wondered about the dimensions of Voltron, and how for instance the lions that form the arms became cylindrical all of a sudden.  But all that, fascinating as it may be is besides the point.  Watching Voltron now, I asked myself why I found it so great then.  The sounds of the lasers annoy me. The dialogue is predictable, the characters repeat themselves and each other a lot.  What are turbo thrusters? Why does he just stand there after they are turned on?  "Dynotherms connected! Infracells up!" What is all this stuff?  
The delivery is lacking, and that kills an already mediocre cliche story.


See, some things are never as good as the first time.  After time and context shift the shiny treasures of old are now, well - cheesy.  When life is rough I too try to recreate that old 'innocence' and the pacific place it existed.  Its all rubbish, because if one reads these musements, you will find that I am always surrounded by noise.  What innocence?  I was punished every other day, that is not a record of innocence.  The things of old are not always rediscovered treasures, sometimes they are just old cheese.  It just got harder and maybe less smelly.


Marginal utility will always decrease, the things that where will never be as they where the first time.  Voltron was amazing then, now he is just, "Ehh."