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.