Firm, Fair and Friendly

Constable McKechnie at Millgrove School

In front of our old house on Millgrove Drive

Some of you know my Dad as Sandy or Mr. McKechnie or maybe as Corporal McKechnie. Some of you might remember him as “Alexis’ and Cam’s dad” even. However, I think a lot of you might remember him as “Constable McKechnie”, the policeman who came and walked around the school during recess, chatting with you about staying safe, listening to you tell him about “this one time. . .” and maybe giving you a sticker or pencil or lapel pin.



I’m writing this for you today. Well, for you, and in honor of my dad. Today, June 26, my Dad, Corporal McKechnie, known by many as Constable McKechnie, is retiring from the RCMP after over 25 years of service.

I could write pages on being an RCMP family, about my dad’s stories, about how proud I am of him, my memories of him. Seriously, pages worth of memories. However, I’ve decided to try and impart a couple of things in this post in honor of dad’s retirement. The first is his policing philosophy.

I want you to know and be assured that the “nice policeman” who talked to you on the playground really was a truly kind and fair police officer throughout his career. It may seem biased coming from me, but I say this feeling confident that hundreds of people that have dealt with my dad through the years would back me up.

Dad’s policing philosophy has always been “Firm, Fair and Friendly”. He has a gift for speaking to people, understanding them and relating to them. Dad taught us that people end up in bad situations because they’ve made poor choices. This does not necessarily mean that they are “bad”, “rotten” or unworthy of kindness. He is a firm advocate that in day-to-day dealings police officers should be treating men and women the way that they would want their own mother or father, brother or sister treated. It was always noted that authority in the law did not give a police officer the right to act as though they were a “better breed” than the regular citizen.

In fact, when my dad came to Millgrove School to walk around and talk to us during recess it was because he wanted you to learn from a young age that he was not an enemy; that he was there to help you; that police officers can be trusted.

I can’t tell you how many times we would meet a client of my dad’s while we were grocery shopping who would tell me what a wonderful man my father was, about how much he had helped them in their situation. Even when dad was dealing with people who were on the wrong side of the law people thanked him! Some of these folks turned their lives around eventually and remembered dad from their more troubled youth. That’s another thing that I’m glad dad taught me - that people can change. Not every one does, but it is possible. People should not be considered write-offs.

Since being transferred to Red Deer, Dad has been the head of the Domestic Violence Unit. He’s been working with women who have been abused by the men in their lives and concurrently has also been encouraging those men who want to change their abusive behavior.

However, in all of the good work that my dad has been doing through the years we all  know that the world can be a dark and scary place. So I want to impart a second thought. I would like to talk about what it’s like to send your dad to work every day in this sometimes disparaged world. I want to write this too for all of my friends who now work in emergency services.

Dancing at his Depot Graduation

As a paramedic who grew up with a parent in emergency services I feel I have a view from both sides. I remember lying in bed as a little girl praying to God, bargaining with God, that I would be a good girl if only he would keep my daddy safe from the bad guys. I prayed to God that I would never hear the doorbell in the middle of the night. I knew that would mean my daddy was dead.
One morning, when I was about 10, I woke up and heard my parents laughing in the kitchen. I walked in and saw my dad, stitches in his head, a bloody bandage around his elbow. I distinctly remember the feeling of my heart dropping into my stomach and I sat down right there on the floor. But dad laughed at one of his own jokes before coming to give me a hug and assuring me that he was alright, that he had just gotten into a tumble with someone who had stopped taking their medications.
When I was 20 my mom and I woke up one morning to discover that Dad had never come home. He wasn’t answering the phone. Mom called the dispatch center and asked where he was. Again the feeling of dread returned when the dispatcher became panicky realizing that no one knew what had happened to him. Luckily this also had a happy ending as dad was at an emergency scene and had a miscommunication with dispatch. We all know that other police families have not been so blessed.

I have heard some of my coworkers discuss how they feel guilty when they have to miss their kid’s events due to shift schedules. I would say that although I’m sure there were times when I was disappointed that my dad couldn’t be there, I don’t have any actual memories of disappointment. I remember always being proud that my dad’s job was to help people. I remember the events that he did make it to, especially the ones that he came to in uniform. As long as you make the most of the time you spend with your children and as long as you don’t bring the job home with you, your profession will not wreck your children.

I would like to end with a request. Likely, many of us have had an unpleasant experience with a police officer, I know I have. On top of that the news pelts us with stories of police shootings, brutality, and unprofessional conduct. Before you paint all police officers with the same brush, before you find a police officer guilty in your own judgement, before you post some story about police brutality in a mob situation and especially before you talk disparagingly about the police in the presence of your children, remember the little children who are praying that their daddy comes home safe. Consider that for every police officer who is rude, impatient and arrogant there is one good one like my dad.

I would ask you to stop and remember Constable McKechnie, that kind policeman that talked to you at recess.

A Free Gift from The King: Part 3

Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it. -Ephesians 2:9, The New Testament (NLT version)

In the last post I did my best to explain simply and quickly how it is that we are saved from death. That it is because of our faith that God gives us the free gift of salvation, forgiving us our sins and making us new. Like I said, I can say that with all confidence. I stake my life on it.

What I didn't talk about in the last post is the debate about how "good works" fit into the picture. These would be considered the actions that make us "good people"; freely giving what we have to offer and practicing the virtues (patience, humility, love, kindness, etc). Honestly, this isn't what I want to talk about in this post, so I'm going to give my opinion with scripture and leave it at that for now so we can move on. I just think its a bit neglectful to write on justification by faith without talking about works.

I believe that "good works" are the result of your love for Christ. They are the fruits of being a Christ-follower, not the qualifications, because as I have been trying to explain, there is no way we "qualify" for God's grace by our actions. Salvation and good works to me go hand-in-hand, they cannot be separated. When you love God you want to do good works because you know it makes God happy and that in turn makes you happy. I don't want to say it's always the most natural thing to do, but every time we put away our own desires to help someone else we spiritually grow into more mature followers.

"And since it is through God's kindness, then it is not by their good works. For in that case, God's work  would not be what it really is - free and undeserved."

Romans 11: 5-7

"What good is it dear brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but don't show it by your actions? Can that kind of faith save anyone? Suppose you see a brother or sister who has no food or clothing, and you say, "Good-bye and have a good day; stay warm and eat well" - but then you don't give that person any food or clothing. What good does that do? So you see, faith by itself isn't enough. Unless it produces good deeds, it is dead and useless."

James 2: 14-17

What I really want to discuss is how we lose our salvation. Actually, I don't want to even talk about the "how" part. I want to talk about the "we" part. I get this sense every once in awhile that Christians have this image of God coming down from Heaven with a fiery fist and taking the gift of their salvation away from them when they take a hard spiritual fall. Frankly, this just hasn't sat well with me, and I didn't figure out why until a little awhile ago.

God cannot be untrue to Himself. He will follow through with everything He has decreed because He is truth. He cannot be contrary. This is why He goes to the effort of creating covenants with us and why He had to give His son to save us from death, instead of just wiggling a finger and making the price of sin a life lived out with turkeys instead of eternal death. God is truth.

Therefore, God will not come down and take away salvation from you because you screwed up. Why? because God has given us a gift - a thing given willingly to someone without payment. Furthermore, He has told us that we are completely underserving of that gift, there is nothing we could do to deserve it.

Therefore, if salvation is a gift and there was nothing you could do to deserve it, then there is nothing you could do that could warrant God taking it away from you. First, because you don't take back a gift - otherwise it wouldn't be a gift. Secondly because if you didn't deserve it in the first place you can't really sink any lower, can you? Rest assured, it will not be God that causes you to lose your salvation.

However, let me be clear that you can lose your salvation. The operative word in that sentence is "lose" mind you. I am confident that God will not take the gift of salvation from you. However, once someone gives you a gift, they trust you to look after it and take care of it. If you lose that gift you're out of luck. This is how people lose their salvation. They might set it down for a bit and forget where they left it. They may lock it up and try to forget about it. They might let someone else take it away from them or they might drop it somewhere due to carelessness. Some have even sold it for material things.

You need to carry your salvation with you all of the time. You need to do maintenance on it and you need to be thankful that you have such a gift. As I was trying to illustrate in the allegory, if the King calls you home and you don't have the keys (the gift of salvation) on you, you're not going to be able to get in.

So you see, I'm very confident that you and you alone are responsible for the free gift that God gives you. He won't take it away. He loves you! He desperately wants you to be with Him. He has made you right in His eyes by the death of his son and has adopted you into the family. Of course He's not going to determine you're a moron undeserving of salvation because you made a mistake! When He sees you've lost your gift He cries and desperately wants you to go back and look for it, to find it again, polish it up, wear it with humility and talk to Him. He is your Father. He wants to do good things for you if you would accept His gift, look after it, and be ready to come home when He calls.

And we never know when that call is going to come.

Because That's What You Do

When I was a baby girl my dad would lift me up on the hour so that I could see the cuckoo bird pop out of the cuckoo clock. I felt like I was hundreds of feet in the air when he would let me ride on his shoulders. When I was tired he would pick me up and carry me to bed. I was amazed at his strength when he would fly me around the house like an airplane or hold me upside down by the ankles. And even when he was in the middle of a conversation, if I reached out with stretched arms and said “Daddy, up?” he would hear me and pick me up without missing a beat because that’s what you do when you love your baby girl.

When I was a little girl my dad would sometimes drop me off at school in his police car -even though we lived right across the street, just because he knew it made me feel special. He told me I was smart, not just beautiful - but smart, and he told me often. He pushed me on the swings, took me to fly kites and blew bubbles with me. He sang to me and told me fairytales. He knelt beside my bed and prayed with me. I would stand on top of his feet and he would dance with me and tell me that we would dance like this on my wedding day. And he held my hand, because that’s what you do when you love your little girl. 

When I was a teenage girl my dad would read everything I wrote and edit it for me and then he would read it again, even if I was cramming an eight page essay at midnight. He came to listen to me sing, or play or practice or speak and always told me that he was proud of me. He told me I was beautiful, not just smart - but beautiful when I felt like the ugliest girl at school. And he held me while I cried over the injustices of youth, because that’s what you do when you love your teenage girl.

When I was a young woman, just starting out, my dad would take my car when I wasn’t watching and put gas in it, just because. He would discuss politics, philosophy, religion and current events into the wee hours of the morning with me, often playing devil’s advocate because he knew it challenged me and made me think. He showered my mother with an abundance of love, respect and admiration, demonstrating to me how a man should treat his wife. He encouraged me to take risks, try new things and to see the world. And he offered me his arm to take when walking, because that’s what you do when you love and honour the young lady that is your daughter. 

When I, as a woman, am busy with the day-to-day things of life, my dad calls me to talk, just because. He listens to my failures and successes and tells me that “everything will work out, it always does.” He loves my dog as much as I do and he makes me wheat-free cupcakes as a surprise. He tells me I’m smart and beautiful. He tries to impart the wisdom of financial planning and he comes by my house to fix, build or plant things -often before I even know it needs to be done. He blows bubbles with me as the sun goes down and we talk about the deeper things like faith, love and the meaning of life. And, whenever we part ways, whether on the phone or in person, our last words are always “I love you” because that’s what you do when you love your grown daughter.

When I am. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .because that’s what you do when you love your daughter.

For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. Of what man is there of you, whom if his son ask for bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?  -Matthew 7:8-11