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Showing posts from March, 2011

We’re a Reluctant Lot…

Most mornings go about the same:  I wake up before my alarm (a sure sign to me that “old age” has already hit me!"), roll over and look at the clock, and let out a deep sigh.  I walk every morning—Monday through Friday—and that walk usually gets going around 6am.  BUT!  I often don’t want to get out of bed.  I think, “Oh, just 10 more minutes….” or “I just want to lie here a while longer….”  However, I get up…get into my shorts and sweat-shirt…don my New Balance tennies…and head out the door. It’s slow at first, but then, as I swing my arms, as my feet climb the hills, as I take note of the birds and their singing, things begin to change.  As I greet the others I encounter each morning—some walkers, some runners, some simply owners of dogs who have get out—as I see them and we greet each other, my mind shifts.  By the time I’m coming down from the top of the hill, as sweat is pouring off of me (more for the humidity than for the difficulty of my walk, mind you!), I have a complet…

Pt.1: I’m an Adult TCK…and my kids are TCKs.

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And, what in the world is a TCK (also known as “Global Nomads)???  A TCK is a “third culture kid”…and here’s a good place to begin:"A person who has spent a significant part of his or her developmental years outside the parents' culture.  The TCK builds relationships to all of the cultures, while not having full ownership of any.  Although elements from each culture are assimilated into the TCK's life experience the sense of belonging is in relationship to others of a similarbackground." (Pollock & Van Reken, 1999)This comes from a good introductory article about TCKs…an article that goes on to talk about the many positives of being a TCK, and the negatives.  Another good site is here.  These article give you the nuts and bolts, but I want to talk about my own experience…and how it has shaped and continues to shape my life.A little biography to begin with:Born and lived in Dothan, Alabama, from 1965-1969.  Moved to Guyana, South America (1969-1973).  Wake Forest,…

"Story of the Pencil" (by Paulo Coehlo)

The child watched his grandmother who was writing a letter.  After a moment, the child asked, "Are you writing a story about us?  And, by chance, are writing about me?"

The grandmother stopped writing, smiled and said to her grandson, "I am writing about you, it's true.  But, you know, more important than what I'm writing is the pencil I'm using.  I hope that you will be like this pencil when you grow up.

The child looked at the pencil, intrigued, and saw nothing special about it.  "But, it's just like every other pencil I've seen in my life!"

"It all depends on how you see things," replied the grandmother. "This pencil has five qualities that, if you strive to have in your life, will make you a peaceful person in this world."

"The first quality: You can do great things, but must never forget that there exists a Hand that guides your steps.  This Hand we call God and this Hand will always guide you in t…

Sunday, March 13th…

Some 32 years ago today, we were living on the island of Grenada in the West Indies.  My parents were missionaries with the then-Foreign Mission Board of the Southern Baptist Convention.  We had moved to Grenada in 1975 after having served four years in the country of Guyana (South America).  My parents were the first Baptist missionaries to come to this island, and my Dad, Manget Herrin (d.1983), was an amazing church-planter.  Mom, Elaine Herrin Onley, is a writer…and she developed much of the Christian education curriculum for the whole English-speaking Caribbean.  I…well, I was a kid and I loved living in that amazing, tranquil world.My day would go something like this—up with the sun around 6:15am, breakfast, don my school uniform, hop on my Honda CT-110 motorcycle and ride to school at BCA (Berean Christian Academy) in downtown St. Georges.  Around 1:30pm, school would let out and I’d make my way home where our mid-day meal would be waiting—flying fish, calalou soup, Greek-style…

That ‘Still, Small Voice’….

Why is it a constant struggle to listen to that voice in my mind and heart?  I’m well into “middle age,” and my experience has taught me that I need to listen to that voice of reason, better, that voice of peace (at times seemingly ‘unreasonable!’) within.Of late, I have been wrestling with a speaking engagement.  When I was asked, I was taken aback, wondering, “Why are they asking ME to speak?”  There was that quiet “inquietud” (unsettledness) in my spirit even then.  But, I have a powerful mind, and I soon began to rationalize and examine the possibilities of why I was asked to speak.  Is there something that I have, I know, that I really need to share with these people?  Is there something here that will help both them and me to grow spiritually?Two weeks later, and I’m still as disquieted by the situation…if not more so.  Why do I resist that small voice within that says, “Jon, this is not the time and this is not the place.”  Ahhhhh.  Well, time has come to accept that voice…and …