Sunny with a chance of rain...

Loss is funny.

I mean, it's not, but you know what I mean.

Four years ago today we lost Robbie. Worst day ever. Seriously. I remember saying shortly after that terrible day that I don't think we'll every be 'happy' again. What I meant was, I don't think we'll ever have the same kind of unbridled, simple happiness we'd had before the shadow of his death came to live with us. I thought of a book title I may flirt with someday that captures the idea;

"Sunny with a chance of rain..."

The book cover would have a sailboat carving its way across a pristine bay on a sunny day that looks absolutely perfect except for a lone storm cloud hovering in the distance.

Yes, we're happy, yes we still laugh, but the cloud of grief attached to Robbie's death is still with us four years later and I'm pretty sure it'll never leave.

What I've noticed about loss is that its the many little things you miss most. The above picture captures it well. I've got dozens of photos of Rob and with Rob but this one says something unique. There he is at the periphery of the shot, top right, and he's in no way meant to be the focus of the image. The kids are; their joy at having completed an epic Easter Egg hunt the reason for the shot. Here's the thing though...

It was Robbie who always set up the Easter Egg hunt.

It's never happened again since he died.

Sure, we've tried to replicate it but there was something very special to him about setting those Easter Egg hunts up, so he put his unique playfulness and energy into it, and as a result, the hunts were epic.

They will never happen the same way again.

That's loss.

I still dream about him twice a year (dreams in which he visits me and talks with me; usually about The Kingdom). I still think of him every single day. I still curse out loud, in a dark moment of despair because of his loss, at least once a month.

Robbie.

The third Cantelon son, gone.

So where is God in all of this?

On His throne, in charge and glorious. We love Him and serve Him and enjoy and seek to obey Him in everything we do. We bless Him and try to glorify Him with our lives. We're thankful to Him and worship Him and focus on Him as the center of our lives.

And we wonder just what in the heck He was thinking at this hour on this day four years ago.

And we know that He is good.

And we know that Robbie is well.

And we keep smiling and weeping and doing our best to enjoy life day-by-day, sunshine and storm clouds and all.

T

More of the same...

Sad but true, I need TUMS from time to time.

Heartburn.

For me, it's mostly stress-related or after exercise. I always carry around a roll of TUMS, some chap stick and a toothpick in my left side pants pocket. I'm so detailed about this, I have multiple sets of each for the pants I wear most frequently.

A little weird? Maybe.

Anyway, I was breezing through the supermarket yesterday with my boys after a great workout, picking up milk and dishwasher detergent and I made sure to walk down the pharmacy aisle to grab some TUMS as my supply was running short.

Usually I buy the classic 'mint flavoured' TUMS but they were out, so I just grabbed what was available, which happened to be a triple roll of 'fruit flavoured' extra-strength TUMS. I'd never bought 'extra strength' TUMS before (my life's not THAT stressed out) but I figured, no big deal, I'll just take one instead of two.

I couldn't have been more right.

When I opened the package just now I immediately noticed something funny. Can you spot it from the picture above? See, I'd been wondering, 'Just what IS is it about 'extra-strength' TUMS that makes them extra-strength?' Is the formulation more concentrated? Do they put some kind of super-stress-killing 'miracle compound' into it to make it 'better' than your run-of-the-mill mint-flavoured TUMS?

No.

Turns out, all they do is take two TUMS tablets, make 'em into one, and call it 'extra-strength'. Look at the thickness...

More of the same.

As soon as I realized this, I was struck with wondering how often I've been guilty of the same in my professional life as a Pastor/Producer? How often, instead of actually fixing the problem by, you know, coming up with something ground-breaking, Spirit-inspired, and creative, have I just tried to do 'more of the same' and hoped for the best?

Am I really just doubling up my tired, stale efforts, instead of figuring out a way to break new ground?

Something to consider.

Might even cause me enough stress to bring on the heartburn.

T

Taste Death, Live Life...

WHY do I go sailing in storm conditions when no one else is on the water?

So I can 'Taste Death, Live Life...'

That's how me and my brother have put it as long as I can remember.

Taste Death, Live Life.

Pretty sure he came up with it, or one of our crazy friends, Sam-geet or Steve-clot or maybe it was Sphincter; one of us anyway.

Always try to choose the most dynamic shots. Naturally, t'would have been boss to have brought our go-pro with us; that would've been some dynamism bro'. We forgot it though. We were too focused on getting out on the water as soon as possible, so the two above will have to do. The first one is us reaching for home at the end of our ride and the second one is the moment we 'docked', which amounted to blasting into the bay, jumping off and grabbing onto the boat before she hit the shore.

Here's how it happened...

I actually got out of bed before the rest of my family (while on vacation) last Wednesday morning to go and check the wind, 'cause I could hear it whistling in the pines above our bunkie. Got down to the dock, sure thing; big wind. That's what I call it, "BIG wind". It's about the best thing I can say about a day, other than that my wife's gonna' be there, ideally in a bikini. If I get a day with big wind, on a body of water, with my catamaran AND my wife there, ideally scantily-clad, I'm winning.

So I race back into the cottage and text my brother who was staying at a place 15 minutes away. "Bro. Big wind. Real big." I hit send and don't have to wait more than a minute or two. "Be right there..." comes the reply, and I know it's ON.

And, wouldn't you know it, in the cottage next to us, on his family compound is my buddy Mike who happens to be up for the same week we are and who also happens (along with my brother Jess and my friend Jones) to be one of the guys I've sailed most with over the past 15 years. Like the other dudes I mentioned, Mike knows what to do without me saying a thing. I can just focus on keeping us alive (working the tiller and mainsheet like they're live beasts) while he, and Jess, hang their 250lb-plus bodies off the side of the boat by airplane wire (trapeze) hooked to harnesses that cinch their privates up tighter than a, well, I shouldn't say.

Did I mention they do this while we're hurtling over the water at 30+ mph on a SAILBOAT?

That's right.

The only other boat on the water was a windsurfer and he wasn't going much faster than us, and he was wearing a crash helmet. That's how serious the conditions were.

About 20 minutes into it we started noticing cottagers out on their docks with binoculars, watching us. "GUYS!!" I shouted, "We're the best show on two hulls!"

We basically got far enough out into the bay, beating upwind which is NOT a Hobie 16's strong suit, until we had enough sea room to just blast reach from cove to cove for about an hour and a half. It was all out, unadulterated fury, terror and exhilaration rolled into one.

At the end of each blast across the bay we'd tuck into a cove and just lay there on the tramps, howling, screaming and laughing at what had just happened, then we'd turn around and do it again.

Suddenly, in the middle of blasting along at speeds a seadoo can barely match, I hear my brother shout, "That's it, reach for home Todd..." And, without a word of protest, I bore off and we started downhill sledding for home.

Why?

'Cause we'd hit our limit. He knew it. I knew it. See, there's a point in extreme sailing (as in life) where you realize you've pushed it as far as you can and, after that point, you're going to start breaking down. When you're sailing in 'expert' conditions you can't afford a breakdown, 'cause that usually means injury, or in this case, death--if you're unlucky or careless or just too tired to do what's needed if/when events take a turn. It's all fun and games 'till it 'aint fun no more.

Know your limits.

We know ours, we've sailed enough to know.

Have you lived enough to know yours?

See, it's possible you need a little more excitement in your life, a little more risk. There's a chance you're just 'continuing' (in the words of C.S Lewis) and that you could be doing much more with the life you've been given.

Sure, it might be stormy out there, but--if you have the tools, the training, the experience and the moxy, you can change a storm into an opportunity.

Just make sure you've got some friends to take along with you and that, together, you know when to call it a day.

Then, get out there and 'Taste Death, Live Life...'

T

Running the race...

So, that was Friday afternoon, getting ready to drive north. My race (an Olympic Distance Triathlon) was the next day (Sat July 12th) so we had asked our good friends (the sweet Donaldsons) if we could crash at their place in Port Carling the night before, so that race morning would be little more manageable.

My sweet Mother in law (thanks Julie) took the kids so my wonderful wife and I could drive up together. Last time we did that (drove up to Muskoka just the two of us) was, literally, more than 14 years ago. What a treat. We LOVE our kids, but were reminded that, come 'empty-nester' days we'll be fine just the two of us, 'cause we still really enjoy each other's company. The drive was fun.

Pulled into Donaldson's at 9:30pm, hung out with them 'till 11pm then tried to sleep. Was very restless, up every hour for sure, just like before a shoot day or a Sunday when I'm in the pulpit. I wasn't stressed though, just accepted the fact that, nights like those, I'll never really sleep well.

Up at 5:30am, out the door at 6:00am, and at the race start by 6:45am, all's well. Sign in, get my bike and my gear settled, hang out with my wife (who knew many of the hardest-core racers, as she's moving in higher and higher circles as a pro-trainer these days) then took in the race day briefing and walked to the Segwin Ferry for our ride out to the swim course start.

Now, before you go any further, you should read THIS which is the tale of my first 'tri' which was, truly, a life-changing--but horrible--experience. Then you should read THIS, which tells the tale of last year's race, my first time running the Olympic distance, and my first real 'redemptive' experience after the debacle of 2010.

Now, on to 2014.

That's my exit from the swim course. Swim was tougher this year than last. Part of that was surely due to the fact that I'm now swimming the course all front-crawl, whereas in the past I'd split the time between front-crawl and breast-stroke. Front crawl is harder work but makes for a faster time. There was also more boat traffic in Gravenhurst Bay this year than last and that contributed to some significant chop on the last 1km stretch from out in the bay into the wharf. That said, I swam faster and felt pretty good getting out of the water. I think I took maybe 5-10 minutes off my time from last year.

Then the bike.

You'll know, if you read the links above, that--first time I did this--the bike was my undoing. Last year was my first year with my new (used from a friend) bike (pictured above) and I was a lot faster and more solid than before. This year I added about three to four km/h average to my bike, which doesn't sound like a lot, but is. My arms were sore from the swim so I was actually looking forward to getting off the bike and onto my feet for the run portion.

The run.

As a former University linebacker I'm built (and have trained) to sprint ten yards and hit somebody really hard. I never wanted to be 'skinny' until I started these races; now I envy my twig-like friends and want to 'grow up' (by the time I'm 45) to be just like them. Re-training my body to run longer distances has been quite the journey. I'm thankful to say that this year was the first year I felt like I truly 'owned' the run.

I'd planned to run the first half at 2/3's capacity (until my legs 'opened up' after the bike--which usually happens somewhere between 2-4km into the run) and then run the last 5k as fast as possible, ideally getting faster each km.

And that's what I did.

The best part of the run was that no one passed me after the 5k turnaround (and I'd been passed A LOT so far that day) and I managed to pass 17 people and, when I heard some of them cuss as I passed them (like I used to cuss when I got passed), I will admit to allowing myself the slightest rush of satisfaction.

At the 9km marker (1k to go) I started feeling my emotions rise to the surface again and, rounding the last turn (pictured below)...

I started sobbing a bit (keeping it in my chest as much as possible) and that had the strange effect of constricting my throat so that I couldn't breathe. I thought to myself, "This must be what asthma feels like..." so I forced myself to quickly calm down so I didn't shame myself (and my family) by passing out fifty yards from the finish.

And, just like that, I was done. Official times aren't posted yet but we're pretty sure (Niki timed me as I went) that I took 20-25 minutes off last years time which, in triathlon, is a HUGE accomplishment.

Pretty cool.

Never thought I'd be 'that' guy. Never thought I'd do this kind of thing, but I've been telling people that the discipline from competing in this sport is leaking over into every area of my life and, for that, I'm truly thankful.

Thankful to my sweet wife for continuing to urge me to get and stay fit. Thankful to Robbie and Kate for suggesting the first one back in 2010. Thankful for what that first miserable failure taught me. Thankful that I've promised myself I'll never feel that bad again. Thankful that I've been able to keep at it. Thankful for friends like Miki and Tom who keep me inspired and feeling somewhat inadequate. Thankful for a body that works. Thankful for forgetfulness, wherein I forget how bad that was, and begin training for the NEXT one.

Ironman 70.3 is the next rung on the ladder. Swim 1.9km, Bike 90km, Run 21.1km. DOUBLE what I just did.

Oyyy. Better start training.

(later today, in fact)

T

Cherish it...

Today was a good day.

Funny, I'm kind of at a spot in my life and career where I can't talk about details in the same way I used to. Added responsibility, more stakeholders, a bunch of factors contribute to that, but one thing hasn't changed; I have days where I want to say something.

Today I want to say two things.

One. I'm thankful. 

After the kind of year we've had it's very nice to see a positive turn of events that serves as an affirmation of decisions we made--that we felt were right at the time--kind of a shot in the arm to encourage us to keep going, that we're on the right track.

That said, I know--firsthand--that things don't always turn out right and, just because they turned out wrong doesn't mean you're ultimately 'wrong' in how you're living or what you're putting your hand to and--more significantly--that God is still God even when you don't get healed or get that promotion or that positive answer to a dilemma you've been facing.

I find that part of faith very difficult to deal with.

So, having come to a place where I'm somewhat 'at peace' with trusting God to be and do who He is and what He does, in and of Himself (only took me 40 years), I'm all the more grateful for a turn of events that fits in with some of the hopes and dreams I have for my family and I.

Simply put. I've had a lot of 'down' days so an 'up' day is all the more sweet.

Two. Nothing *really* important has changed.

My sweet son off the top? That's YEARS ago. Sure he's bigger now, but in his heart--who he is (as evidenced by how hard he's working on his sand creation) hasn't changed at all, and how I feel about him--as his Dad, and someone who's SO very grateful to be a father--well, that hasn't changed either.

That helps me with perspective. 

See, when things are bad or things are good or things are somewhere in between, there are certain things in your life; like your relationship with God, your spouse and your kids (if applicable) that never change, or at least which you shouldn't *allow* to change.

It's the things that are really important, the things that really matter.

In any given day I face a dozen moments of real challenge, of disappointment, of hurt, worry, stress or concern. In those moments I'm learning to remember that the tide does turn (for better and for worse then for better then for worse and so on...) all throughout your life and that, so long as you keep your head screwed on right and keep doing the *right* thing moment to moment, nothing really important ever really changes.

And that's something to cherish.

To better days!

T

Grip it and rip it...

I love that shot.

We were on the beach and my wife had asked me to bring the camera, something I was reluctant to do because; 1) she's always asking me to bring the camera and it kind of bugs me (for no good reason) and so I want to rebel 'cause I'm a sinful wretch and 2) because the waves and wind were so huge I was sure something bad was going to happen to it, and it's a very good camera.

But, I'd repressed my selfish and fearful urges, and brought it with me.

POINT #1: Do the right thing even when you don't want to.

POINT #2: Always have your 'tools' with you (like a camera).

Man, was I glad I did. Once my kids started racing into the waves and getting worked over by 'em, washing up ten yards inshore coughing and spluttering and laughing their guts out, I raced over to where I had stashed the camera (in a hat, under a shirt to keep it safe) and--caution be danged--hopped to it, running down into the surf.

POINT #3: You never know when 'the moment' will strike, so keep your eyes open and be ready.

Now, here's the thing about shooting. I've learned (and I'm certainly not the *best* director among my friends, but I've learned a few things from watching them, and from doing a little myself) that, if you shoot from an unusual angle (ie: put the camera somewhere 'non-traditional'), you're more likely to capture an image that is outside of the ordinary.

Most people would keep the camera in their hands, at their eye, and shoot. To capture the above shot I put the camera on the right setting, dropped it as close to the rushing surf as possible, then shot as many exposures as possible before leaping away (hoisting the camera into the air) when the surf caught up to where I was.

POINT #4: Unusual is usually better.

The 'net' effect is the image at the top of the post where my kids are caught right in the middle of the action...

POINT #5: 'Spontaneous' is better than 'Staged'.

And, because I'm shooting from such a low angle, the waves look absolutely MASSIVE, which captures the essence of the moment much better than shooting them at eye level would've.

POINT #6: The 'image' should tell the story.

Pretty fun. 

Glad I listened to my wife.

T

Celebrating...

I've been getting some questions about my 40th, how it went, how I feel, did we do anything special? Well, my sweet mother-in-law and my wife conspired to take us away for a week so I got to sail on the Caribbean Sea for the first time.

Can't believe it took me 40 years to get there. I've been busy trying to survive, I guess, but I feel like I shouldn't have waited quite as long as I did.

That's me and my eldest boy hitting the water on the very old and busted hobie cat the resort had. There's a life lesson there. See, we had a great time. Doesn't matter how old the equipment is, if you put your heart into it, and the conditions are right, you'll have a great time.

Kind of like me (and the rest of you who're in and around my age range).

We've got some miles on the chasis by this point, but--properly loved and applied--we're capable of getting out there and doing what's needed. In fact, some would say, the years of experience help us do things others might not be able to do quite as well.

This was in evidence on the above day as I was the only 'guest' the staff let out on the water because the conditions were getting 'dangerous' for the average run of the mill western tourist with little to no sailing experience. Not me. I was able to convince them that I'd spent enough time on the water that they could trust me to get out there and not make a fool of myself or their equipment.

So, out we went, and we tore it up. Great sail. Nothing like bashing upwind, into the swell, getting soaked by eighty degree saltwater while the sun beats down on your neck and the boat surges like your heart.

A lovely birthday present all told.

Thanks Julie. Thanks Niki. Thanks Kids. This forty-year-old Daddy loves you.

T