Leaning

            I spent several summers of my childhood and early adulthood at camp. (Entire summers! Camping, counselling, chaplain-ing. Bliss.) At one camp, I noticed a precocious pre-teen dominating conversation. Her friend interjected with a mocking "Well! I'm done talking about me. YOU talk about me now!" I watched this child have a powerful learning: it wasn't all about her.

            Life is like that. It's not all about *me*. It's not what I want, what I feel entitled to, what I lay claim to. It's about *us*. In our home lives, our social lives, our work lives, our faith lives. It's humbling and empowering to recognise that life is not meant to be an idolisation of the one, but a celebration of the community.

            And in community, we lose the arrogance, the ego, the always-rightness of being alone. We collaborate, we deliberate, we share. We lean on one another in tough times, we support one another in times of strength. We weave together a mosaic of gifts, skills, interests, and ministries. We don't impose but invite; we don't dictate but discuss, we don't exclude but engage.

            Community is why Jesus sent his disciples out in pairs or more; for safety (of body, mind, and spirit!), and in doing so He was pre-emptively minimising the rise of the ME, the "I have all the answers", the "I need to fix you" mentality, the "my Jesus is better than your Jesus."

            Community encourages leaning. It supports faith that struggles; it bolsters emotions that collapse; it upholds its membership. Letting ourselves lean on one another is not a sign of weakness, but an acknowledgement of our trust in and need for each other. And we can all lean together, as we need to: we know how several sticks leaning against each other stand - and can support other entities as well.

            And, friends, let's be honest, this is a week when we're leaning. We're weary from the isolation and fear of COVID. We're concerned (at best) by the breaking of our economic system, and the insecurity that brings. We lament the egregious abuses of power that result in death and destruction, of people, families, and communities.

            It's heavy. It's powerful. And alone, it's overwhelming, isolating, crushing. So lean. Lean as you need to. Trust that together, we will be supported. Trust that you're NOT in this alone. Trust that even in your leaning, you are offering support.

            And in that support: grow. As you lean, use some strength to prepare for the 'what's next' as we are challenged to engage with community in ways we could not have imagined would be needed 3 months ago. Learn about racism, about politics, about privilege, about broken systems, about poverty, about discrimination, about all the injustice that is out there. Because these are global realities, and call for global solutions; and we are called to be part of the solution. Together, supported, strong, educated. And leaning - even as we stand tall, and justice will bloom.

Letting Go

"Mine. That's also mine. And future toys will be mine. Mine."

         We're at that time where windows are opening... and pedestrians going past my house are apt to hear a laughing "Drop it! Let it GO!" This is because my dog is NOT one to put down whatever she has in her mouth... usually a chew toy (preferably the one the other dog was playing with) or a puzzle piece (she likes cardboard), or some other form of canine entertainment.

         She had a dilemma recently, however. With a toy in her mouth (I was doing the obligatory play-chasing), she spotted another toy on the ground... Skidding to a stop, she stood there for quite some time, not willing to let go of the toy in her mouth, but also not willing to leave the toy on the ground.

         Tough decisions in dog-land! She tried to pick up both, but couldn't... she debated dropping the one for the other, but wouldn't... she did swap, but then swapped back. If I could see thought bubbles, I expect there would have been a lot of question marks arising.

         I reflected that there are times in all our lives when we have such decisions to make as well. What to hold on to, what to let go, admitting that sometimes we can't have both. What was meaningful 5 years ago may not be as significant in today's reality of our lives, and so we may be called to loosen our grip. What is important today will have been influenced by the past, but until we have space to let it enter our lives, we won't be able to reap the rewards.

         Wherever our energy and interests lie, we want to be able to focus. Be it a prayer practice, an outreach project, a course of study - whatever. We have a limited capacity (even us over-achievers) and therefore get to prayerfully and carefully decide what we want to be carrying.

         Letting go isn't easy, but it can be liberating. We can thank God for what was, and for the lessons we have learned; and ask God to reveal to us something new where our energy will be directed.

         So in this time of pandemic restrictions, when we are all at a space to consider what we value and cherish, we can consider what we're holding - and identify what we want to be holding - and give thanks to God for the holy experience of letting go.

What Day Is It?

"Rotary time engine" CC BY-SA by plenty.r
Source: Flickr

            A recent theme in my life has been a shift in days... my weeks are now comprised of 2 days: Sundays, and Not-Sundays. My rhythm has become adapted in such a way that on Sundays, I post my weekly blog, and I lead worship from the right dining room corner at 8.30 and 10.30... and Not-Sundays I prepare the daily mailing, and lead prayers from the left dining room corner at noon.

            Almost everyone I've spoken with about this phenomenon has shared similar feelings. Our patterns are off; our schedules have changed, our day-to-day is different. We're all still busy, some of us moreso; but this different style of being is a gift.

            We're being gifted the opportunity to look at our busy-ness with new eyes... and determine how we want to spend our time and our energy. Each week of our shared physical distancing is a chance to engage with ourselves, our loved ones, and God, in different ways.

            It's helpful for me to frame this reality in the context of the early church, when ministry happened as it happened - without checking the colour-coded block in the agenda. For relationships and interactions to flow organically, without someone checking their watch or having a 'next meeting' reminder ping on their phone.

            It's also been helpful for me to consider how 'weeks' are understood in a spiritual sense - not as a counted passage of days, but as a stage of spiritual growth and development. The Ignatian Exercises, for example, are based on this principle, as are the stages of the rosary.

            So for me, this difference is reminding me that God is always calling me into deeper awareness, deeper reflection, deeper relationship. And while a global pandemic is not ideal for enforcing it, I can choose to make the most of the situation as it is: and to breathe deeply, pray consistently, and face each day with a thankful heart.

            So what day IS it? It's a day to connect with God. Amen; alleluia.

Checking the Details

     I like soup. I'm a big fan of making and eating soup. I enjoy trying new recipes.

     This week, a friend sent me a recipe that looked *fabulous*. Fortunately, the ingredients required all happened to be in my cupboards. Excellent. So off I went: simple recipe, all was going well, it called for one cup of lentils. No problem - in went one cup of lentils.

     I quickly noticed a potential challenge... I had added one cup of dried lentils. Based on the quantities of liquid in the recipe, I deduced that I was going to have a problem. That cup of lentils ought to have been one cup of cooked lentils... I was going to have one very thick stew.

     So, quick adjustments, I added more water and other ingredients: et voilà! A double batch of the soup. (Which, for the record, is fabulous. This recipe is going to be a regular!)

     Fortunately, in the case of soup, adjustments are easy. A minor oops is merely a minor oops.

How often, however, do our relationships encounter challenges when we don't check the details... when we act based on assumptions... when we project our presumptions onto someone else. I think we can all agree that emotions are much more delicate than lentils, and much longer lasting.

     And how easy it can be to prevent the oops moments that can harm relationships. Simply asking for clarification... a "can you tell me more about that" or a "did I understand you correctly" can make a world of difference. Especially in this time of collective anxiety, where many of us are feeling the stress, anything we can do to alleviate tension is a good thing. So whether it's confirming a recipe, or confirming a comment, checking the details is well worth the time. For relationships, unlike soup, aren't usually mended with an extra cup of water and an onion.

The Comfortable Words

            I traveled in March, and so returned home to a period of self-isolation. "Ah!" I thought to myself. "Sweat pants and comfort food. No problem!" And, as my self-isolation transitioned into our societal 'stay the blazes home' (thank you Premier McNeil!), I realised I was doing a lot of things that brought me comfort.

            I did some baking, I started jigsaw puzzle(s), I started buying the processed 'comfort foods' from my youth (NOT my normal healthy meal prep!), I started seeking out the dogs for them to play with me (even if they were napping), I put on the clothes that brought back happiest memories of friends and travel.

            And, I prayed.

            In fact, from the first day of my isolation, I prayed publicly. Online.

            I discussed with a colleague how I found comfort in offering and sharing the daily prayer: whatever liturgy resource I use, whatever the response, the comfortable words and rhythm of prayer at a set time has been helpful.

            Through pandemic, gun violence, and tragedy: we are praying. And it brings us comfort at a time when we most need it, and are unable to extend our care in physical proximity.

            Through births, birthdays, and anniversaries: we are praying. For through prayer we share in the joy of the Lord and the joy of community.

            Through bright days, and gloomy days, and days when we feel disconnected: we are praying. And our prayers remind us that God is with us and holding us together.

            In sweat pants or clericals (and sometimes both!), with good hair days or shaggy-do's, with behaving house pets (or a singing canine choir): we are praying. Because God hears the whispers of our hearts even if the words won't come.

            We will get through this. We are getting through this. We do it with prayer. For this brings us comfort: no matter when we started our journey in prayer, we "hear what comfortable words our Saviour Christ saith unto all that truly turn to him" (BCP 77) - and we feel comfort. For where else would we turn for comfort than the Holy comforter of our souls?

            May God be with us as we pray in comfort.