A blessing of unplanned prayer

I was in a Zoom meeting this week, and one of our beloved members was sharing about some of the challenges they’ve been facing. One member said “we’re praying for you”, and it was met with a Zoom Room full of nodding heads and heart-reactions.

And before we moved to the next agenda item, another member said “We’re praying for you, now.”

And pray we did. Aloud, unplanned, authentically, beautifully, from the heart. The one who led the prayer named our friend, commended the challenges to God, asked for strength, and expressed gratitude for God’s companionship and faithfulness in this difficult time.

It was beautiful. It was important!

It hadn’t been on the agenda, but it was exactly what we were gathered to do. (Yes, we did the other work as well!) As a faith-based organisation, we often speak of prayer – and I know that these people of prayer are committed to that ministry of praying!

But so often we can forget that sacred pause, when the to-do list can wait, and pray aloud when the opportunity presents itself. There will always be something else that is waiting to be done, of course, but we risk the chance of diminishing ourselves and our communities if we skip over those few brief moments to engage.

It may not fit every setting (like a business meeting) or every venue (like a grocery store – I was once asked for prayers over the produce!). But for those of us this week – it was holy. We’re all blessed by the privilege of prayer!

The Power of Community

A few weeks back, I had a conversation with someone who self-identified as “a Christian Pilgrim” – by which they detailed that they did not follow any denomination, but went from church to church each Sunday. This person had been a guest at our service, and stayed after service not to join our coffee hour, but to tell me explicitly why they would not be coming back.

Their discourse notwithstanding, what stayed with me after reflection was a sadness. Not that we wouldn’t see them again, as our faith community was evidently not a ‘good fit’ – and I do wish them blessings on their journey. My sadness was rooted in recognising that this person had chosen to be without Christian community at all. They were clear that they were not looking for community; they were happy to be permanently itinerant.

By moving each week to a different house of worship, they are denying themselves the benefits of that community: people with whom to pray and praise, to study and discuss, to serve alongside.

Church is not just about being in the pew; it’s about being the people of God together. We learn from one another and gain new perspectives as we discuss how we sense God calling us. We are challenged into different interpretations of scripture as the lectionary takes us into the whole of the book, inspiring us to move beyond our favourite passages and into understandings that evolve as we ourselves grow and mature.

In community, we hold one another accountable, we discern together, we minister together. We respond to the needs of the community: within our broader geographic location, and within our spiritual connections. We laugh and love together, we join one another in celebration, we support one another in suffering, we do our best to be faithful companions.

But we never do it alone. Every teaching of Jesus invites people to go in pairs or groups, every epistle is written to build up the community of faith, every time of fellowship is designed to bring us closer to each other as the children of God.

I love being part of healthy church community: I have been blessed more than I can detail by people I’ve journeyed with. And with technology we have means to stay connected as never before. My hope is that we all find a community to which we can belong; with God at the centre, keeping us connected in holy ways.

More than a Food Basket

potatoes, carrots, parsnips, asparagus, lettuce, orach,
spinach, rhubarb, onbion, coriander, and dill. YUM!

Last night, it began…
This weekend was the first collection of the CSA produce for the season!

CSAs, or Community Supported Agriculture, are closely linked food systems where consumers pay in advance for a share of the season’s crops, and the farmers then provide a share of the crop based on what is produced.

CSAs serve to decrease the distance between farm and table (thereby decreasing travelling time and expense, and allowing for fresher food), they also increase the links between the growers and the purchasers (thereby building community). It’s a means to highlight local and seasonal food, and may expose people to new (to them) foods and thereby new recipes can be tried. (This week, for example, one of the foods I received is orach – and got to learn what that was! I haven’t considered up how I’ll eat it yet…)

It seems fitting, this Pentecost Sunday, to be reflecting on how community is built. Those of us who pre-purchased a share have supported the farm, and will share in the risk of the season. Our weekly collections will reflect if it’s a good growing season or a challenging one. Together, we share the output, proportional to our input.

I do not know everyone who participates in this CSA, but we share in the collection and distribution. We enter into the community with trust, as there is a cycle of us who bring the food into the city for member pick up. The bags of goods vary in content (based on the time of year and any prferences identified) and quantity (based on what size of share we've ordered). We've given and receive in proportion to what we have and what we need.

We have all invested in the farm – its people, its crops, its ethics. It’s a commitment in hope, as we support not only the literal fruits of the earth but also the different concepts of economy, ownership, and cooperation. It’s high quality food that allows us to see the world in new ways, healthier ways, moral ways.

I’m looking forward to being part pf the CSA this year; just as I am excited to see how this garden reflects the kin-dom as it feeds our bodies alongside our souls.

Snipped

Not my hair...

I had a haircut this week.
Not a big change, just a good trim in time for summer.

Before we had started, my stylist communicated well with me, confirming that I wanted about 3 inches taken off. More than just trimming the split ends, long enough to be easily pulled back.
She started by taking off about an inch – until I confirmed that I really did want it shorter, and then – snip!

As we were chatting, she commented that I was always so relaxed about my haircuts… and I replied that it’s only hair! If I didn’t like the end result, it would just grow back. The stylist at the next chair said she wished she heard that perspective more often!
As I am not someone who spends much time styling my hair (a simple ponytail is my normal summer ‘look’), I was less concerned about defining the precise outcome that some others do.
No shade on those who do – it’s just not my thing.

I try to live life with a similar viewpoint. Life will happen – sometimes as we expect, sometimes very differently. Sometimes the outcome is exactly our goal, and we can be pleased; or it may be adequate but not quite what we had in our minds; or it could be entirely … off.

But: the do-over can happen. Like a tragic haircut, it will usually grow back. It takes some time and effort, and often some involvement from someone with appropriate skillsets. (My stylist for growing out the pixie cut was fabulous!)
But we can consider more than just the immediate.
We can work to change our patterns, styling our habits in ways that will be helpful.

We can communicate what we want - meaning we've spent some time thinking about it.

We can make changes gradually, and increase over time if we feel it appropriate. Or we can choose a drastic change!
We can make effort to repair damaged relationships; and if that’s not feasible we can accept that it’s not meant to be, and move forward with peace.
We can adapt to the circumstances that life throws at us, like containing a ponytail on a windy day or planning a perfect blowout for an event… we almost always have some options as to how we respond to the world around us.

And – more often than not – we can simply be satisfied with what we have, day after day.

Who Says I Can't?

I had a lovely conversation this week with a friend and encourager. We were discussing how “anyone can sing!” – as we are both musical enthusiasts.

It was sadly interesting, as we both had stories to share of hearing that we’re not good enough to make music… for me, it was a grade school teacher who said I ought never to sing in a choir.
So, I stopped singing. For a long time. At least in public – for singing has always brought me joy!

My friend noted that if someone is less than stellar in other subjects, we don’t kick them out of class – we do our best to teach them. For that is how we lift one another up – through teaching, not through exclusion.

What a great reminder as we consider all manner of connection: admittedly not everyone is meant to do every thing – even if they do enjoy it. We can’t all be professional singers (I’m not!) or athletes (I’m *really* not!) or physicists or… but we can try, and if these things bring us joy, then there are options to find a system that ‘fits’.

For me these days, I love singing with a community choir; even when I hit the wrong notes, or struggle to learn a piece. (A favourite from our concert last month: https://youtu.be/q9voFOQn5JM )

Just because someone long ago said I couldn't sing, doesn't mean that I have to keep listening to that voice now - and indeed, I don't! But I do remember it - as a cautionary tale, to do my best not to have a negative impact on someone else.

I’m grateful for the people who were the encouragers along my path, and who continue to build up my involvement and enjoyment. I aspire to do the same with others – in the church, in the community, in life in general.

We never know when we might be making an impact in someone’s life; and we can hope that our words and actions will be for the building up of those we encounter.

Heb 10.24-25a “let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another”

Dog Rugs

There’s some beautiful hardwood flooring in my house.

And the longer I’m in the house, it seems the more it gets covered – by rugs.

The first rug came in winter, as the dogs were less inclined to sleep in the living room floor, excepting the dog beds; but were happy to tread to the carpeted areas in the office and bedroom.

A hall runner appeared when the Rocket Dog (named “Comet” with good reason) could crash into the ancient one, and knock him sideways with minimal traction.

A third carpet popped in as Watson’s arthritis became more painful, and his efforts to stand up became more laboured – and a little extra grip made a lot of difference.

Thus, the dogs meander more, there are fewer falls, and they continue the happy practice of being in whatever room the human occupies.

The rugs aren’t good quality; they aren’t even matching. While somewhat beige, they are different shags, weaves, shapes, even colour. The hardwood is mostly hidden; and it’s not pretty.
But it’s wonderful: because it makes life just a little bit easier and a little bit more comfortable for the dogs.

They serve a purpose: to make life a little bit better. So it’s entirely worth it.

For the house, it’s rugs; but in other areas of life, what small adjustments might be made to improve the quality of life for someone else? Can we donate to a local Food Bank, or support a local refugee resettlement cause? Can we pause in our busy-ness to have the same conversation we have with our forgetful neighbour, giving them the dignity of a chat that they are having for the first time? Can we contribute to a community clean-up, demonstrating our commitment to all that our Creator God loved into being?

Can we live our faith in ways that are meant to be supportive and helpful?

It doesn’t take much, but it can mean a lot. And in our efforts, the world might become a kinder, gentler place: a place where the important things aren’t just what looks lovely, but what makes the most impact on the ones who are there.

How do you talk about faith?

In a few pastoral circumstances this week, I had several conversations with many people, about faith and calling- I was in a few spaces as a cleric, and these are not uncommon conversations. Some folks ask for prayer, some ask for information, some ask about my marital status (!!!)

One person this week was telling me that they aren’t sure if they believe in God. (Again, not an uncommon conversation to have). But they did say that they have read the scriptures, and they attend church from time to time; and while their faith is questioned, they said that being part of a community of believers was important to them.

They said it makes them feel that they are kinder, more connected to their neighbours, that they want to be a better person – basically that it makes them feel better to be part of the faith community than they do without it. They said they weren’t sure about the concepts of resurrection, heaven, etc., but that regardless of the promises for eternity, they were happy about the way they were living their life now.

It was a beautiful conversation; where this person allowed themselves to be vulnerable, and to be honest about their faith journey. And it reiterated for me the beauty and significance of being in community: that we hold one another up, we hold space for questions and queries, we accept wherever we are in our beliefs, we accompany one another without judgment or criticism, or forcing our expectations and opinions on others.

It was also a conversation starter as we sat around a table, as others started sharing of their experiences, the teachings of faith and morality that they had learned along the way, the sharing of wisdom from many perspectives. At the core, everyone was expressing that whatever their belief, they wanted to live peaceably with one another and with the earth, and that they wanted to leave this world a better place for those who come after.

Sometimes theology happens like this: in unplanned yet comfortable conversations around a table. It happens when we are willing to listen and to hear, to feel safe enough to open our hearts to others, and to be that safe space for others to open up to us.
It’s the community that dwells in sacred time and space, where the Spirit of the divine exceeds our words and our rationality – and simply is: a guiding force of love for us to follow.

What Season Is It?

It can be interesting, as a Christian and as a priest, to see how secular society interprets religious experience.

High Festivals, for example…. Cultural Christmas seems to sit anticipationally adjacent to the religious season; Easter is more about a day than a season with a focus more on egg hunts than empty tombs; and Pentecost isn’t really even known outside the church!

When I was out this week, I saw a prime example of how culture (specifically capitalist culture) and church-land can be very different places – and how there seems to be minimal effort or interest in bridging those gaps.

A store was clearing out their “Easter Advent Calendar”… complete with a 3D tree to decorate. (Surely something cartoon couldn't be aspiring to the solemnity of Lent, this must be just an effort to consider a countdown to a special day? Was the enclosed "Letter to the Easter Bunny" a nod to secular Christmas postal efforts?)

Admittedly, while I was still rather tired after the exuberance of our resurrection celebrations, to say that this product confused me would be an understatement!

Yet: rather than spend much time or effort trying to pull apart the conflated seasons, or categorise the plethora of reasons for my consternation, it made me wonder: how can we better communicate the truth of our high festivals, the tenets of our faith, the basics of why we do what we do?
The opportunity is there, and if we do not speak up, capitalism will – evidently!

And I’m not suggesting we can override capitalism, nor that we should rail against such creative expressions of seasonal sales… but perhaps we can consider how we might form and foster relationships with the people in our community, so that the most basic of our celebrations are understood?

I am under no delusions that we can – or should – ban the bunny; but I would hope that we could boldly share with at least one person the true joy of what Easter really is – and Christmas when that season comes – and all the other beautiful things that make church the blessing that it is.

For if we don’t communicate the truth of the Good News of God, who knows how far off the creative marketing teams will take it.

Easter Baskets

At last evening’s Easter Vigil service, a guest came with an Easter basket. He is Ukrainian descent, and his basket was a traditional Ukrainian Easter basket: these are wicker baskets that hold a variety of symbolic food stuffs and condiments, with a candle and an embroidered paschal cloth. Each item speaks of God’s grace and mercy and goodness, and tradition is for the baskets to be brought to Easter Sunday services to be blessed by the priest, before being shared with family as the holiday feast.

What a privilege to have been asked to bless this man’s Easter basket tonight – he wasn’t sure he would have time on Sunday to have the priest at the Ukrainian church bless it. I don’t know the traditional blessing, but we prayed together for him, for the contents of the basket, and for the continuance of the celebration of Easter to touch all our hearts. He hugged me in thanks when he left.

The experience left me considering what I might put into an Easter basket, if I were to categorise symbols of God’s goodness in my life. There might be eggs (candy or chicken!) for the symbolism of new birth; coffee for the gift of clarity, and the traditional foods of my own Easter feast (nachos, yum). Perhaps a pen and paper for the writing I enjoy, and the scriptures for how much I love speaking and preaching. Some music, perhaps a novel, and momentos of the relationships I hold dear (a troll doll, a canoe paddle, my soapstone seal). Some dog toys and treats, of course, for my loves. . .

The list could go on. As we celebrate Easter and the promise of new life that we are given, perhaps we can also pause to celebrate this transitory life: for the blessings of God are not withheld from us in the here and now. And asking God to bless these things as we continue to benefit from them keeps us connected to the source and giver of that perfect love.

So… what’s in your basket?

Have a Good Day!

I have a picture of a dog on my desk with the caption “I’ve decided today will be a good day!” Admittedly, this can often be easier for dogs than humans (especially dogs that are pampered like mine!). But, this week, I tried to lean in to that concept.

Each day, regardless of the challenges and obstacles, I made it a goal to see and celebrate the good things: the stranger at the opposite gas pump telling me to have a good day, the fun design on a coffee cup, the random avocados at choir practice, the laughter with friends… God has put joy in my life!

I decided this week to not just appreciate what was happening to me, but also to try to spread the joy.

I tried to help someone at the store who said ‘I looked friendly’ (we both laughed when neither of us could locate the hunted object).

I overtipped at the coffee shop on a day when I was praying through some heart-heavy challenges and opted for a caffeinated pick-me-up.

I complimented the very bored yet well-behaved child in the grocery line behind me, and made sure their parent heard it.

I spoke to a store manager about helpful and kind service from a staff person – and the manager let me know it was the first positive feedback they’ve received in months.

They were all little things - but I hoped that they would make someone else have a good day.
It’s a bit of a ‘warm fuzzy’ for myself too, of course; which makes it a win-win.

Seeking out the positive doesn’t mean that there weren’t obstacles this week (there were), or that one little thing can make an entire day great (unlikely), or even that an effort to make a good day will be received (life can be overwhelming and distracting).

…but it’s a little thing, a worthwhile thing. It’s living the Gospel a tiny bit at a time; bringing light and love into the world in ways that are not expensive or onerous or even expected: but hopefully enjoyed in authentic ways.

It doesn’t take much to decide to have (or make) a good day.

 

Conducted!

Photo by SSO

In the past few weeks, I’ve been fortunate to sing with a couple of choirs, and to have attended a couple of musical concerts.

In each case, there has been a conductor: the person who seems to get all the applause, and who is the ‘front and centre’ for the performances. For those who aren’t familiar with the processes, it may seem strange to just have one person – the one person who is not themselves part of the production of the music – be on the receiving end of the accolades.

Admittedly, it’s common for conductors to fully acknowledge the musicians, and invite recognition of the efforts of the performance to go to the performers.

Conductors from Dixit - SSO

However: conductors are not simply stand-ins or time-keepers: far from it!
Conductors are musicians themselves, and their role requires them to have extensive knowledge of every part individually. Each part is beautiful and emotive in its own right; but the conductor then uses this knowledge to weave together the component parts of multiple instruments and voices in ways that create an output that is greater than the sum of the parts.

The conductor also embraces this knowledge, with an ability to engage and encourage each instrument’s part, using their skill to tease out increasingly impressive musicality, to enhance and uplift the gifts of others.

There are nuanced adjustments made, as the conductor realises the conversation and interplay of so many parts, coalescing for the enhancement of the music and the benefit the audience.

Conductors do a LOT! And their entire purpose is to make the musicians perform to the best of their ability, honouring the composer of the piece, and sounding as wonderful as possible.

Having been conducted (and with another concert next week) – I have learned to have tremendous appreciation for conductors! The folks I’ve worked with have been examples of grace and positivity, going out of their way to be affirming and encouraging, inspiring and empowering for us. They are there not to just direct music, but to build us up and strengthen community – music is just the conduit for their ministries.

It's been a delightful time to reflect on being conducted… and to ponder about the potential to be conductors in all aspects of life. How might we engage with folks in our social circles to extend and bring about compassion, to encourage grace, to uphold expressions of love? How can we mentor, guide, and accompany others on their journey, that leaves them feeling good about the good work they have done in what they offer to the world?

 

“How was New York?”

“How was New York?”

I’ve been asked this question a lot this week, and expect I will be asked it again more in the weeks to come.
The past 2 weeks I’ve spent, as has become my normal March practice, attending and participating in the UN Commission on the Status of Women, as part of the delegation of the Anglican Communion. This year I attended one week in person, one week remotely.

So how *was* New York?
Well, it was good; it was inspiring; it was intense.

Digging deeper into how it was will take a lot more time to process and unpack… but how was it?
It was inspiring: sharing and learning from others in the delegation – Lulu whose young age does not diminish her undeniable passion for ecological advocacy; Larissa who brings experience and confidence to her voice calling for indigenous rights; Dominic whose advocacy for positive masculinity is changing the world; Lizzi whose commitment to stand with victims of GBV is making us all safer (not to mention a great roommate!!). And of course our leadership of Mandy (Gender Justice Advocate extraordinaire, with sarcasm to match mine!) and Martha (a God-given gift of the Anglican Communion to the UN – and to us!)

It was educational: sitting in sessions discussing youth in agrifood and food security; of the uses of data to change sexist behaviours; of new technologies and practices that are maknig a positive change at the grass-roots levels.

It was harrowing: to hear of the pushbacks against women’s rights; to learn of ongoing child marriage; to hear of those strategising for the current geopolitical climate with strong links to historical horrors; to get updated statistics of violence against women and girls.

It was sad: to know that 30 years after the Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action, we’re still struggling for equality; to experience a municipal climate of increased security and harassment; to understand the increasing threat to women in the digital and public spheres.

It was hopeful: to hear voices seeking work-arounds; to collaborate with faith-based agencies combatting climate change; to hear of new ways to apply our intersectionality, to engage in conversations with diplomats and permanent missions seeking new ways to achieve the 2030 Agenda and SDGs.

And it was holy: to worship with women and men who recognise God in the work they do; to walk alongside those whose burdens are too big to bear; to collaborate in our ecumenical space reminding ourselves that we are never alone; to lean into our faith to carry us through. To appreciate our focus scripture in new ways: (“The exercise of justice is joy for the righteous” – Proverbs 21:15a (NASB)

New York was busy. It was a time to laugh together, to cry together, to pray together. To break bread together, to worship in the sacred places of the CCUN chapel, Trinity Wall St., and St John’s Cathedral (the other St. John’s!), to develop liturgies that brought us from justice to joy. To walk and talk; to see a few sights as we try to balance the heaviness of the event with the joy of our shared journey. It was late nights and early mornings, it was a lot of walking, a lot of eating, a lot of experiences of wondering “is this for real?” (like meeting royalty, or going to a meeting with the Mission of the Holy See. In my collar. And asking them a question they couldn’t answer. That was fun…)*

I have so much to consider; I have so many blessings to count; I have more love than I can express for the beloved who shared this year’s experience with me.

So how was New York?
Bucket-filling. Life-changing. Awe-inspiring. Grace-abundant. And fuelling – for the opportunity to do the work that God has called us to, here at home; to change the world.




*as the conversation was with folks who are focused on climate issues, I asked if there were emerging eco-feminist authors that they could recommend… being the geek that I am… they suggested a 10-year old male-authored encyclical. I mean, it’s a good one, but….

Exceptional!

One of the privileges of parish ministry is sharing in worship; in our community the Wednesday Noon Eucharist is a delightfully calm and casual time together (followed by a delightful bring-your-own lunch, with much sharing and laughing)

This past week, our Gospel for the day was from the beginning of Mark 6, where Jesus is rejected in his hometown. verses 4-5 read: Then Jesus said to them, ‘Prophets are not without honour, except in their home town, and among their own kin, and in their own house.’ And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them.

It can be easy to focus on the relative weakness in the context; and how from this pericope Jesus and his disciples leave and bestows authority on them to engage in their shared ministry.

Except….

Except that the perception of weakness isn’t accurate.

Jesus is not weak! God is not diminished by a few folks who aren’t able to wrap their minds around what the person they thought they knew really is.

To suggest that the Christ was without power is more, to me, an indication that the people in his hometown were unwilling to receive the gifts of power that Jesus was offering.

For if Jesus was truly powerless, he would have done no healings there. But instead we are told “EXCEPT” that he performed miraculous healings before traveling on their way.

This is not a small or insignificant “except” – and I encouraged our Wednesday group to lean in to the “except” when they see it. For sometimes the “except” is actually “exceptional”, to those who are willing and able to receive it.

What a privilege to have the faith to live in the “except” moments that God gives us – the tiny moments of beauty, the life-changing moments of grace, the life-long expressions of love.

May we have eyes to see and ears to hear the exceptional Good News that God is proclaiming to us!

Happy Groundhog Day!

Screengrab from Episcopal Church Memes

Happy Groundhog Day!
Rodent-alia? Feast of the Earth-Pig?

With roots in the Germanic lore, the Pennsylvania Dutch brought the idea to North America – that animals could predict the forthcoming weather, depending on their appearance and/or if they see their shadow.

It’s become a fun tradition, be it with a badger (Germany), bear (Hungary), or groundhog (North America); hinting at winter’s duration lasting a potential four or six more week – regardless of location or clime! Sitting right between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, we know winter is going to continue - and can choose to embrace it or not.

Since the early 1990’s, the concept of Groundhog Day has been more strongly connected not to the Imbolc or Candlemas traditions, but to the film starring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell – in which one character gets caught in a time-loop, reliving February 2 (almost) interminably.

While the philosophy of the film tends to be secondary to the comedic aspects, it’s a fascinating concept to see how the individual reacts and responds to his circumstance; from taking advantage of no long-term consequences, to depression at no advancement, to desperation, to finally recognising he could use his situation to try and better the world for others around him. It’s only when he allows himself to be open to love that the time loop ceases, and he awakes to February 3rd.

So this Groundhog Day – we can choose how we want to live. We can be intentional with the choices that we make – they can reflect the person that we want to be; they can demonstrate the power of goodness and love to the world. They can be whimsical (like searching for a rodents’ shadow) or serious (like helping the vulnerable in our community).

Whether we look for a shadow or for light; whether we consider the film an amusement or a philosophical consideration – it is Groundhog Day. Why not make the most of it – whatever *it* may be – and do our best to loe freely - and make the world a better place.

Pieces of Happiness

I like puzzles.

I have a ‘puzzle table’ set up in my main room, I have a puzzle mat, and puzzle-piece trays, and several shelves of puzzles. Some are abstract designs, some are thematic, some are cartoons. Some came as gifts or carry memories, some are larger than others, some are substantially more difficult.

A few weeks ago, I started a new-to-me puzzle that looked intriguing – a labyrinthine design of solid white and green. There’s no texture, no shadow, no nuance, the piece shapes are not all unique. The lines are straight with few identifying features. It’s a doozy.

As I said, I like puzzles. I only recently returned to the practice of having a jigsaw puzzle on the go at any time. I enjoy the time spent doing puzzles as a chance to listen to an audiobook, or contemplate some thoughts of the day. It’s relaxing.

So when the green-and-white puzzle became more of a burden than a joy, I realised I wasn’t going near it. I gave it a few weeks of sitting out, with several frustrated attempts, before I admitted that this was not accomplishing its purpose.

So I put it away. Maybe in the future I’ll want to try it again; maybe I won’t.
And I pulled out another puzzle, with an easier design, which went together surprisingly quickly. It brought me joy, it engaged me, it was overall fun to complete.

And it brought me back into the practice of puzzling; I’m keen to start on the next one from the shelf. I have no regrets about packing up the labyrinth; not everything is going to be a good fit every time.

Life can be like those puzzles: sometimes challenging, sometimes exciting, sometimes entertaining. My thought is that when the pieces of life aren’t fitting for us, it’s okay to shelf them for a bit – and focus on finding things that will feed us.

Connections

I like playing word games; I do a daily crossword, my Scrabble game is well used, I play some online games over my morning coffee.

A big part of the fun for me is not just the success of completing such a game, but of the strategy behind it; in a crossword it’s the puns and wordplay, in Scrabble it’s the placement of letters for maximising score, in wordle it’s adjusting the probabilities of letters and combinations to discover which precise word is “the” answer.

One of the online word games I play is “Connections”, where a grid of 16 words has to be sorted into 4 categories of 4 words each. They can be simple or involve wordplay or puns, and the categories do not relate to each other. The challenge comes from not only needing the general knowledge in any category to understand how the word fits, but also in discerning the wordplay and multiple meanings or applications of each of the words. It can take some time, and often more than a little mental gymnastics!

It's not unlike a mingling of people; trying to find ways that they connect. Some connections are simple; all the dog lovers in one grouping, all the folks who can name football players in another. Some connections are a bit more tenuous, like shared history experiences like education or travel or workplace. Some are even more difficult to connect; like finding a third point of connection, or interest group.

The insight of Connections (the word game) is that whether I can see it or not, there are connections that exist; not unlike when we come together in community. Sometimes what we think will be a Connection turns out to be only 2 or 3 words linking up; this doesn’t negate their connection, it just means it doesn’t fit within this particular grid. This too can be like community; where we can appreciate that we’re not meant to be best friends with everyone, accepting that we don’t have to fit entirely and perfectly with all places and people. (Some of our neighbours are lovely people, we just don’t want invite them to dinner.) And sometimes, the connection is evident and easy to see, and flows naturally; at other times the connection takes some work to understand; like our human relations.

The analogy could go on; but I know the joy of being part of a community as it seeks out connections between people, knowing that if we commit enough genuine interest in one another, we can find ways to connect, to communicate, to share, to grow.
I see this every time our churches gather; where newcomers are welcomed in, where long-established friendships continue to thrive, where we continue to strengthen our bonds with each other as we engage in our various ministries. Where no one is alone; for we know from the start – like the 16 individual words – that we are part of something larger and stronger, something that ensures we are just waiting for the next connection to be made.

My New Year Beatitudes

A prayer of thanksgiving for those who have recently blessed my life.

Blessed are the pew smilers: who sit in the pew and nod, encouraging me even in the tired sermons of a low Sunday.

Blessed are the fluff-finders: who remove the (seemingly unending) dog fluff from my sweater.

Blessed are the phone-answerers: the friend who answers my call even when busy, because even 30 seconds of connection brings a smile to both our faces.

Blessed are the collaborators: who commit to working together, trusting me to share in a task too big for any of us to do alone.

Blessed are the safe-spacers: who share a trust to be entirely vulnerable about life’s realities.

Blessed are the name-users: who intentionally interject my name while we are chatting, as though it is a sacred word.

Blessed are the complimenters: who seek an honest positivity to elevate each conversation.

Blessed are the picture-senders: who share their life with me through unremarkable daily  images, or remind me of a long-standing joke with a humorous GIF.

Blessed are the patient, who know my lack of phoning is because life has happened, and time zones are unforgiving.

Blessed are the joy-seekers: whose focus inspires all around them to also seek and share joy.

Blessed are the laughers: who go out of their way to share in happiness (and don't care that I'm loud!)

Blessed are the texters: who send messages that convey love and kinship, regardless of distance.

Blessed are the pausers: who pause after asking how I am today, because they really want to listen to my response.

Blessed are the Zoomers: who share lengthy chats full of joy, even when it’s been too long (and when hugs just can’t happen).

Blessed are the huggers: who reach out their arms to ensure that love is felt.

Blessed are the gracious: who don't care about the tumbleweeds of dog-hair on the floor, because they have come to see me (not a perfect house).

Blessed are the noticers: who see subtle nuance and inquire gently about the change.

Blessed are all my friends: whose very presence makes the world a better place, and inspire me to be the best version of myself.