Worth the Effort

I am a snacker.
I enjoy snacking; I often have nibbles somewhere close by when I am doing my work or reading or watching the hockey game or...
The dogs know which snacks I am likely to share with them, and which ones are people-only.

I tend to portion out my snacks (to reduce the chance of over-snackage); and some snacks are easier than others at slowing the eating process.
This week, my snack of choice has been pistachios.
The thing with pistachios is that snacking needs to be done intentionally. And not just in terms of portion control!
The shells need to removed from each nut; a process that takes two hands. The shells then need to be disposed of; a side bowl is handy while adding another step. The saltiness of the shells transfers to my fingers, so I am less likely to read or type to keep my things clean.

They are lovely, and the benefits of intentionality are definitely worth the effort.
And they make me consider the effort: for so much of our food these days can be easily acquired and ingested; we don’t always (often) consider each bite as we eat.
Our other intakes can be similar: our earbuds bring us a steady stream of music, so much that we may forget what song we heard last. Our scrolling through the social media algorithm may normalise a few points of view that we forget there are others. Our entertainment choices can influence our moods.

Like with my pistachios, we can also be intentional about our consumption and habits:
We can choose to immerse ourselves in prayer on a daily basis. We can decide to support a service agency. We can collaborate with neighbours to enhance our communities.
There are so many ways we can act with intentionality – a little mindfulness can be a good thing. In our world of instant gratification, a small change, a slowing down, a purposeful pause can make a big difference. If they lead to good things, they are definitely worth the effort.

Finding Happiness

On this third Sunday of Advent, many will be leaning into the “rejoice!” message from Philippians 4.4. “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say rejoice!”

I often aim to distinguish between the message of joy (eternal and divine) and that of happiness (earthly and temporary). Both are good! But they speak differently to our lives. This doesn’t mean that we should seek joy and ignore happiness; nor the other way around. While our faith guides us into realising the joy of the Lord that lives within us, we can also seek to find glimmers of happiness that bring smiles to our faces for a time.

This past week, I had some such moments – with laughter and frivolity. They were passing moments: watching Santa Claus walking into a local school – and waving enthusiastically at all the cars driving past. Giggling at a funny reel on social media. Laughing through a silly game with friends, where we replace the word “girls” with “Squirrels” in song titles (Squirrels Just Wanna Have Fun, California Squirrels, Squirrel in a Country Song – etc), finishing the novel for next month’s book club. There were connections with friends and family: quick phone calls and texts. Dog snuggles. Receiving a thank-you email. An unexpected collection of goodies (since labeled my Advent Sanity Snacks in the office fridge!)

The more I started to think of the moments of happiness, the more I realised there had been many such moments.

And the more I started reflecting on why these things made me happy, the more I recognised the presence of joy – in the gifts of the people and circumstances in my life, where God is revealing grace and love and goodness.

It’s not to say that there are not times of stress, and challenges to overcome, especially with the to-do-list(s) for the coming couple of weeks. But it is a reminder of the glimmers and smiles that carry more importance than the gloominess of grey days and December blahs.

So let us rejoice in the Lord: and seek happiness with each other. For both enrich our lives beyond our imaginations.

Time (and time again)

The White Rabbit, of Alice in Wonderland,
always concerned about time (and his lateness!)
Photo of statue in Central Park, New York.

Happy New Year!

In our liturgical calendar, the first Sunday of Advent is the start of a new year. Woohoo!
Instead of staying up until midnight partying, we’re meant to start the year by spending some time thinking about… well, time!

Time can have many meanings, and be quite fluid. In my sci-fi geekdom, two definitions of ‘time’ are shared – it’s “a companion who goes with us on the journey and reminds us to cherish every moment, because it will never come again.” (Jean-Luc Picard in Star Trek: Generations, 1994). According to the Time Lord himself, “People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but *actually* from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint - it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly... time-y wimey... stuff.” (The Doctor in Doctor Who: Blink, 2007)

Our faith invites us into the consideration of time as an earthly concept (chronos) and as a divine process (kairos).
It’s not difficult, then, to consider the season of Advent as a season of time – for it overlaps with Pre-Christmas.
Advent: a holy season, a time of waiting and preparing, of reflecting on both the past event of Jesus’ birth some 2024 years ago (give or take several calendar re-calculations!) and the anticipation of the second coming of the Christ.
Pre-Christmas is an earthly reality, a time of scrambling to accomplish the tasks and social activities, the lists for which necessitate coordination of otherworldly skills.

However we consider time (and it will likely fluctuate!) my aspirations are that none of us should arrive to the manger racing and exhausted by our to-do-lists. Rather, I hope that in the midst of the December mania, that Advent allows us to frame the season in a Godly time; a kairotic space: asking if we ourselves are prepared for the kingdom of God – and if not, how to deepen our spiritual hope and trust.

Whether time flies, or crawls, or passes gently: may your Advent time be fulfilling and fruitful!

Lost in Translation

I’ve had a few conversations recently about the Lord’s Prayer, and its many translations. From having updated versions alongside older ones, folks tend to have a preferred version. And that’s okay! I’ve heard people refer to the version well-known by many is sometimes referred to as “the original” even though that one has changed over the years… it doesn’t appear in the King James Bible, Jesus didn’t speak in medieval English, even the versions in our prayer books have had nuanced changes over the centuries.

The reality is: language changes. It evolves, it adapts, it shifts from generation to generation. Translating centuries-old texts can be influenced by common linguistics (for example, awful used to mean full of awe – not the present negative connotation; terrible and terrific come from the same root and used to mean the same thing – now they denote opposite meanings). Add in some idiomatic expressions (having cold feet could mean hesitation or frigid appendages), contextual references, some lost words, multiple scrolls and sources, varying grammar and syntax, political and cultural agendas… even before we allow for the different languages that are found in the scriptures.

It’s why we have so many translations today, and why new translations are being prepared in an ongoing basis.

Our opportunity in revisiting the scriptures, with experts and linguists and theologians – is to ensure that the word of God does not get lost in translation.

Some variances may be minor, like the example in the photo, which reads “Dog Toy” in English and “Cat Toy” in French. It’s a toy for a furry house pet. Yet we understand that a literal translation has not taken place; and that revision can be a good thing.

Likewise, the scriptures give us the chance to revise, review, return to the meaning. In doing so, we are allowing ourselves to be moved by the living word of God – a beautiful gift that invites us deeper into an understanding of our history and theology as people of God.

Ideally, when we revisit the word, it speaks to us anew, and inspires us to live by word and example in ways that are authentic, helpful, and meaningful. And by doing so, our own lives become a living testimony to the teachings and promises of God.

May we do so faithfully, carefully examining and learning how God continues to speak to us – so that none of the glory and grace and goodness of God is lost in translation.

Practice and Patience

This week, my gaming group was learning a new board game. None of us had played it before; it took a bit of time and patience to set up, and after reading the rules we started to play. For the first while, play involved checking the rule book at least one every turn, adjusting our moves as we started to understand the complexities and nuances, checking the rule book again, adjusted our play again when we realised we’d all misunderstood one of the rules, and tried to imagine how we were going to get to the end of the game. It was slow going!

As we continued, we were all being patient with one another, as we asked each other questions or Googled specifics and checked the rule book a large number of times. We got more comfortable with the basics, and started seeing the potential for strategy and nuance in our decisions. While it was a game that defined a ‘winner’, we played in collaborative ways, offering advice and kindness to each other as we took our turns.

As our understanding of the game increased, so did our speed; and when we did come to the end of the game (realising we had actually surpassed a normal ‘end’ point), we all decided that it was a fun game, and would likely be more fun the next time we played it – because now we had a grasp on the game as a whole. We also expected that our next play would fit within the expected time frame (the guidelines suggested it could be played in 60-90 minutes; it took us more than twice that).

Coming home, I pondered with gratitude on how much grace we had all had as we learned this new game. We had all started at the same skill level (none), we all ended with a comparable skill level (basic). Next time there might be a new player, and they’ll be joining in from a beginner position. If we had not exercised this patience with and for each other, the game likely would not have been fun, we may not have agreed that we want to play it again.

Our spiritual journey can be like this: we all start somewhere, with little experience or knowledge in how we engage and understand our religious practices. When we encounter someone new to our community’s expressions of faith, they may be overwhelmed, confused, and a little intimidated. If we can demonstrate the patience and grace for each other the same way we do in learning a new game, we have become encouragers, companions, sojourners.

None of us has all the answers – after all, the faith journey doesn’t have a simple rulebook like a boardgame does. It takes time to try, to consider, to encounter – in the pathway to understanding and discernment. Our goal could simply be to do our best to provide a positive experience, so we all wish to come back and learn more with one another.

"Was That Out Loud?"

Screengrab from the SSO Facebook page

This past week, the Symphony had another of their book and music sales. It’s a bookworm’s dream; used books at fabulous prices. (This happens a couple times a year; I am a regular attendee. New-to-me reading while supporting the SSO? Yes please!)

In the mystery section (but of course!) I came across a few books that are on my reading wish-list; and made some excited comment… and when the very nice person beside me chuckled, I realised that I was, in fact, speaking aloud. I apologised for the interruption, and we both carried on our way of scanning the shelves.

…until a moment later, when she asked if I had read one of the books. Based on my excitement from a moment earlier, she was recommending another author of a similar style and genre. This led to a series of discussions about books, with several other people joining in from time to time.

The conversations were unexpected, and delightful. It was entirely temporary, and that’s okay; we had found common interests and made a connection for that time. It was easy, enjoyable, and beneficial (I chose an extra few titles to try based on others’ suggestions). The tone was always respectful and positive; no judgement for our preferences. At one point, one suggestion came with a caveat – the person saw my collar (I had been privileged to officiate a care home service, hence the unlikely day-off attire) and they had warned me that the book did include some ‘colourful’ language – and they wanted to make sure I wasn’t offended.

These conversations remind me of how easy it is to come together. We started with no reason to connect, and yet were able to find means to relate, to share, to laugh a few times. My visit to the book sale was made better by these folks.

So often, people are put in our paths, and we can choose to make connections with them – even for just a moment – that may be uplifting and brightening to their day. We can treat others around us how we would wish to be treated – with kindness and respect. In finding connections, we are living the life of faith, that calls us to see others as beloved as God. It’s not a means to a religious conversion - Jesus and his friends had many conversations with whomever was there, without delving into dogma and practice. Instead, they exercised a ministry of community: something we can all emulate.

Preaching to the choir?

I’m part of a choir that’s full of busy people. At the start of each cycle, we take our music, and commit to spending time to learn our parts before we come together in rehearsals. It’s a fun experience when we do coalesce as a choir; there’s the social factor of meeting and connecting, as well as the musical overlay of all of our many parts. As we each know what parts we’ll be singing, we live out some healthy boundaries – staying in our own lane, as it were, and letting others stay in theirs.

The commitment to each other is delightful, for in doing our own practice and learning, we are honouring the time and efforts that the others are also contributing to the whole. It can be empowering when we discover how our individual work enhances and uplifts the equal work of the others in the choir; together we are more than the sum of our parts! More than once I have been ‘carried’ by the folks near me, as I wrap my brain around a particular piece of music.

Part of the learning curve continues as our attendance fluctuates each rehearsal; life happens and we’re not always all available every set time. Yet we celebrate the successes we have, and extend grace as we also receive it. (At one rehearsal, I was the only S1, and after we all held an extended end note I was particularly gassed… yet upheld by the supportive comments of my fellow singers).

Part of our rehearsals include the occasional time of ‘shaking things up’; for example, we might all disperse around the room, or into small groups, where we are not singing with others in our same range. It gives us a chance to appreciate the other parts from different perspectives and locations, and learn to adapt accordingly.

Singing in a choir can be a LOT of fun; it can be quite revealing about how we respond to community. We have chosen to be together, even before we know who we all are; we are trusting in the gifts and skills being offered, as we trust that ours will also be appreciated. We are learning, and growing, and evolving, as we find ways to work together in. And we delight in the output: the joy of singing.

Any community can be like this: welcoming in newcomers, extending grace when things aren’t perfect, collaborating to benefit everyone. There are many analogies that can be made between a (functional and friendly) church and a (functional and friendly) choir. My ongoing hope for the church is that it will celebrate the opportunities to come together; and that we will always commit to make a joyful noise unto the Lord.

Freedom?

We’re well into election season here, and a few days ago I happened to be at home when someone came canvassing. I recognise that I’m a political animal; a long-ago earned degree in Political Science set me up well for this time of governmental change.

The person started off with a question that I recognised had the intention to be evocative, controversial, a definitive conversation starter. The loaded question earnestly asked was: “Do you agree that your government should support your freedom?”

I was keen for a political discourse; but he wasn’t prepared for my response: I asked him how he/his candidate/his party was defining ‘freedom’. He wasn't able to; and even when I offered some prompts (Religious? Personal? Military?) and asked how each of those fit in to the question, and by extension the political platform, he wasn’t able to make those connections. (Instead I was encouraged to make an appointment with the candidate directly so I could ask those questions.)

The words we use can have different meaning, and different connotation, depending on our experience and worldview, and the present context. And these contexts are regularly evolving, growing, changing. Life happens!

Overall, freedom is being released from something that constrains us. While there’s a broad way to apply that definition to our lives, as people of faith we can seek the freedom that is promised to us by God. It’s not a freedom that can be quantified by earthly standards, for it brings us beyond earthly restraints. When we are free, we can understand what it means to be in the world but not of the world.

So as I have had a few moments to ponder what it means to be free, I understand that my true freedom is granted by God, through the promises made to us all in Jesus the Christ. We are free to shed the earthly cords that bind, and to dwell in the liberation of divine love and walk in the light of the Lord.

As Simeon proclaimed that day in the Temple: (Luke 2:29-32)
Lord, you now have set your servant free to go in peace as you have promised; For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior, whom you have prepared for all the world to see: A Light to enlighten the nations, and the glory of your people.

Signs and Lattes

Last Monday, on Thanksgiving, I made myself a latte.

It’s not uncommon, but it’s also not common. It differs enough from my day-to-day pour-over brewing in many ways: the grind, the machine, even the vessel of choice (while I have my preferred morning coffee mug rotation, lattes go into a ceramic latte bowl specific to the purpose.)

It is a little sign to myself of how I am beginning the day. These little variances communicate – even just to myself – the intended pattern: a latte in the bowl indicates a relaxed time in the morning. Yes, I had a to-do list, and yes it was a productive day; but starting with a different mindset – all from a latte.

We regularly communicate such small signs to our families and friends, and colleagues and strangers; often without realising it. My dogs know that when I put on my outdoor shoes, a walk is imminent; but when I pick up my purse and car keys that I am heading out (usually without them!)

So much of our communication is non-verbal, which means that little signs can make a big difference in how others will see and perceive us. As Christians, we are given the opportunity to be careful about how we present who we are. For example, wearing a cross but gossiping gives a mixed message. The myriad of ways that we live our faith (responding to the vulnerable with dignity, challenging unjust systems, speaking the truth in love, etc.) can show the world who (and whose) we are.

Jesus spoke often of paying attention to the signs (see Matthew 24); he also demonstrated signs. Signs of mercy and grace, of community-building and of self-care, of prayerful response to the glory of God in our midst. May we all be attentive to the signs of divine grace and love that are continually flowing upon us!

Seeds and Hope

I’ve been writing a lot about my garden lately – a timely topic as we celebrate Thanksgiving weekend!

Much of what I planted last spring didn’t quite take off the way I had intended – or hoped! I have tried to leave things growing as long as possible, yet with the frosty temperatures coming this weekend, most of it is now in.

My squashes came in today let me just acknowledge how thankful I am that I am not relying on this crop to feed me through the winter!

Three pathetically small buttercup squashes were all that came in this fall. One was too tiny to have any flesh, the other two offered a total yield of half a cup (tasty, but tiny).

However; they also provided seeds for next year’s crop. Even the itty-bitty-quarter-sized squash had some viable seeds. So, one hopes for a different outcome next year!

The seeds are little pods of hope; they are a comfort for the future.

In a time of uncertainty in the world, when civility seems a lost art, when fear-mongering seems to be the solitary political platform, when conflicts are affecting thousands of people, when disasters are devastating communities… it is easy to sink into darkness, that place of sadness, apathy, or grief.

Yet the seeds prevail. And I believe that there are seeds of goodness that transcend the gardens; in our lives, in our relationships, in our actions, in our imaginations…

The seeds are there, even in the tiniest or darkest of places. I believe they are worth seeking out, and saving, and planting: so that they may grow.

And when the seeds of hope start growing, they start nourishing us – and perhaps this is how we will overcome the darkness that encroaches in the world.

Francis, Animals, and Connecting

October 4th marks the (liturgical) memorial of Francis of Assisi, sometimes called “the poor one of Christ”. Despite a wealthy family, he is noted for his voluntary poverty after a powerful conversion experience at age 20. He helped establish the Order of the Lesser Brethren (colloquially called Franciscans) in 1209 and a second order, the Poor Clares, with Clare of Assisi in 1212.

Committed to a life of simplicity and compassion, Francis came to understand God’s glory revealed in all of the natural order, and celebrated the gift of all creatures.

Some 8 centuries later, it is the connection with animals that has come to leave a mark on our society, with many faith communities marking a “Blessing of the Animals”: many focus simply on the pets that re brought in by congregants, others also include acknowledgement of the other animals active in our lives.

The Animal Blessing services also provide for us a bridge; in our modern world, it is a chance for us to welcome folks into a community for a time of prayer and connection. Animal lovers who do not have other connections to the church can feel at home bringing their beloved furry/feathered/finned critters to a time of joy and thanksgiving.

Imagine if every week our regular offering of praise and worship were to be so welcoming and encompassing with the broader community around us. How might we engage folks on non-animal Sundays? In what ways do we maintain connection each day?

Hopefully we might be as humble as Francis as we mold this animal ceremony around his feast day, and find new ways to connect with all those God puts in our path.

Waste Not, Want Not

In this, the last week of the church’s recognition of the Season of Creation, we’ve been having a discussion about the impacts that humanity has had on the planet (not so good) and the potential impacts we can have in the future (full of hope!)

 

One of the topics raised last week was the adage we all learned some decades ago: reduce, reuse, recycle.

 

It’s a great mantra; yet we often overlook the importance of the order of this. Our first call is to reduce our consumption, then reuse what we already have, and utilize recycling as a last resort. Too often, we shed our awareness and responsibility by simply filling up our blue bins, where they can be taken away and (hopefully) recycled.

 

Part of our call to reduce our consumption is a chance to be financially frugal, which will likely also lead to a reduction in waste. One of the areas I focus on is in food waste: fo9r wasting food is wasting money, and wasting the planet.

 

Yes, I’m *that* person, who saves the end cuts of vegetables in a bag in the freezer, until I can boil them into a stock; I look for creative recipes for the food that I have. Sometimes this can be a wonderful success; sometimes I learn that I won’t be doing that recipe again!

 

This week, I’m looking forward to trying some new recipes from parts that, in the past, I may have just dropped in the stock-making bag (or directly into the composter!) I was gifted some beet leaves, so am eager to try a dal recipe. The carrots I mentioned in last week’s blog have been harvested, and… well, to call them tiny would be a compliment; but the greens have been washed and stripped and are ready for the pesto making!

 

I appreciate that not everyone enjoys cooking, or experimenting, but for me it’s one way to deepen my appreciation for, and engagement with, God’s creation. There is much to be thankful for, even in unexpected places. The goodness is literally coming up from the ground, and we are being invited to be creative in celebrating our local bounty.

All while respecting the earth, and decreasing our waste – thus celebrating all that God provides. 

Carrots! And Ephesians!

As the temperatures are cooling, and the threat of frost increases, I’ve been slowly transitioning my little garden pots. The peas and beans came out last week, and this week my sights were set on the chard. (I’m holding out hope for the squash to keep growing!)

Interestingly, when I was planting the seeds into my planters last spring, I had an ‘ooops’ moment and accidentally dropped some carrot seeds into the chard pot. So, as the summer progressed, I watched carrot greens arise with enthusiasm, knowing that there would not likely be any carrots (the pots are small, the chard leaves block the sun, etc.). But I left them where they were, so as to provide ample carrot greens for some autumnal treat (apparently carrot green pesto is yummy; I’ll let you know!)

This week, assessing the chard, I noticed a spot of colour that didn’t quite belong. On closer inspection, it turns out I do have some very keen and determined carrots trying to grow. I was seeing their little orangey-brown tops starting to pop through the soil, desperate for some sunshine.

It got me thinking about the act of growing carrots. We drop a few seeds in, and nature does its thing under the soil beyond our sight, and some time later we rip those roots out of the earth and enjoy them.

Carrots are both rooted and grounded; they have the root tendrils that reach through the varying layers of soil, transporting nutrients and water to the root vegetable, thus enabling growth. And they are grounded, as their development takes place within a sturdy environment, the flexible greens being the only thing above the soil until the plant is ready to emerge into our sight. Even then, carrots can be quite solidly situated within that soil.

As our mid-week worship heard the lesson this week from Ephesians 3.17 (…that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love) I pondered about those carrots. Rooted, grounded, and emerging at their own pace. We too, through our faith, find ourself rooted (receiving the nourishment of Christ) and grounded (with a firm foundation of faith).

And, like those hiding little carrots, we too emerge into the world to live the life of those who are beloved; who have been blessed and can be a blessing.

NOT one more chapter...

Normally, I am a voracious reader. Novels, mysteries, history, theology: I can happily go through 10 books a month; and usually with more than one on the go at any given time. My TBR (to-be-read) shelf is of decent size, as is my ‘on hold’ list at the library.

My current before-bed read has been a change of pace – literally. It’s an engaging story that I want to finish in one sitting; yet it is so well crafted and creative that I want to savour it. I find myself reading no more than a few chapters each night, so I can make it last.

In doing so, I find I’m reading it with a different focus, considering multiple angles and perspectives as each section unfolds. I’m spending more time wondering what the characters are feeling, how they might interact, how their pasts are influencing their present, etc.

Perhaps this exact practice is why we have our scriptural narratives shared in small portions for our daily and weekly lections; not just so we can accomplish our liturgical journey through the bible every three years, but so that we can spend time in reflection, contemplation, and meditation. Each passage has something to reveal to us; even when we don’t understand it, even when we’re wanting to skip to the next action-based part, even when we can’t quite remember all the nuance of the last bit.

The scriptures are meant to engage us in all aspects of our lives; and with too much all at one we may be overly challenged and instead give up.

But with just the right amount, we can find ways to apply the lessons of each section to our lives: bringing us enjoyment, learning, and opportunity for ministry.

Bless This Mess - the Season of Creation

Today starts the “Season of Creation” in the church; not as a distinct liturgical season, but a time to intentionally focus on the relationship that we have with God’s creation.

And it’s easy on the beautiful days, when the sun is shining and the pollinators are zooming between gorgeous blooms. Yet it can do us good to recall that not all aspects of nature are those picture-perfect moments; be it the dirt (in which the decomposed plant matter nourishes today’s flowers) or the unpleasant mosquitos that play a role in the ecosystem… there’s any number of examples of the enjoyable aspects of nature, and the less-than-desirable parts as well.

Yet in the mess, there’s grace. In the dirt, or river-side muck, or slippery eels, or pervasive weeds - whatever is distasteful to us is still a part of God’s creation. And thus: we are given the chance to see the grace, the goodness, the divine.

It can be difficult, as we are not going to like everything in nature. We are going to find certain aspects of the created order unpleasant and prefer to avoid them. We as humanity have tried to subdue nature, to overpower it, to deny its fullness; and in doing so have distanced ourselves from the creation (and from the Creator).

So we are reminded that we are still called to love all of creation: to find ways to interconnect, to collaborate, to share in this expression of divine love. For every organism here has as much value as we do; we are all striving to find out place and space, in ways that allow us to flourish without encroaching on others. God didn’t create mistakes.

The trouble comes when we situate ourselves as better than others, as above the mess; instead of acknowledging that we too can be messy. It’s a humble stance to learn, to shed the ubiquitous sense that we are the top of all beings; yet this season invites us to do just that.

So in this season of creation, as our churches remind us of the need to focus on the beauty of creation and a role within it, let’s not forget the messes. For God’s blessings are there too.

On Ice and Access

This summer, I’ve been going through a lot of ice cubes. I didn’t use to drink my water with ice; sure, the trays were always in the freezer with cubes should I want them… I just didn’t seem to want them.

The main difference this summer is that I now have a fridge with an automatic ice maker. So I don’t even need to open the freezer door to get the ice; there’s no search for the trays and struggling to release the cubes.

Getting ice has never been an onerous task for me, but this one little shift in access has made a difference.

I reflect on how accessible we make our faith.

Could our personal faith nurture be easier - does an app make it easier for daily office, is there a Christian library or bookstore within proximity, are we comfortable discussing faith with friends?

Could our shared worship be made more accessible – from physically getting to church (or online), to how we’re greeted, to understanding what all our Anglican Acronyms stand for?

Are our faith development opportunities accessible – is bible study on a video platform, do we know where to park for a study group, what time of day is best for attendees (and facilitators)?

In all of these, there is no doubt success to be encouraged, but also room for improvements. And while we can always ask people for feedback (yay constructive feedback!), we also need to be open to possibilities that we haven’t even thought of yet. (I never knew I wanted ice so often, until it was right in front of me).

As we consider our fall programming and our personal intentions and practices, may we be open to considering ways that we can offer access, and be open to trying new things. They may work, they may not; but we won’t know until we try. Imagine what’s possible when we strive to make spiritual development a priority for all!

One More Chapter

As an avid reader, I often have multiple books on the go. This summer, I’ve treated myself to a few novels that are outside my normal genres, and a few that are new releases. (My library card is my best friend!)

The challenge with these books, however, is that I want to read them. All. Simultaneously.

The reality of life is that I enjoy doing other things; and sometimes do not get as much reading time as I might prefer. Almost every night, I’m in bed with my novel, long after the dogs have started snoring.

This means I am usually quite keen in the storyline after it’s time for me to turn off the lights… and yet, I continue to tell myself “just one more chapter…” so much so, that there are times when I know my eyes are closed, but I keep holding the book open anyway.

Any reader can attest that the next chapter is of indeterminate length; the last book I finished had a chapter that reached 100 pages, my current novel tends to hover around 5 pages each. Regardless of length, readers always want to conclude that one… more… chapter.

My long-standing reading habits this week had me pondering on the enthusiasm and commitment we make to reading, to engage in the next section full of unknowns.

What in our faith journey has us that enticed? What aspect of service would make us want to stay up late to complete? What areas of prayer do we leap into without consideration of how long we may spend in them?

And if we aren’t excited about living our faith to the same extent that we are about our hobbies – why not? What do we need to do to re-engage (like finding a new genre of novel)?

The questions will endure, but I hope the continue the pondering… as reading is a daily aspect of my life, so too ought my faith be put into action on such a regular basis.

 

Ready to be Colourful

A few weeks ago, I noticed pens on sale… so I got some.

..Then a colleague’s desktop inspired me to renew my stash of sticky notes.
…Then markers and highlighters, price reduced in the back-to-school section, found themselves in my home office.
….And a good selection of binder clips never goes astray when I’m organising my desk.
It’s a colourful abundance of organisational delights!

Alas; I have fallen into the late(r) summer practice of refreshing my stationery supplies!
Normally, this happens when I have a particular task in mind, or find myself on the cusp of a new project.
But not this year; (I am not going back to school, despite having not been a student for over 3 years now. 3 years! A new record.).

What I am feeling is general inspiration, and appreciation.
These supplies are not stocking my desk in preparation for a known entity; instead they sit there waiting for the unknown. For when an unplanned, unexpected burst comes.

Because this happens, when we are feeling at home in ourselves; when our external surroundings and our internal souls align into that happy place.
We want to express that goodness, regardless of what the outcome may be.
For to embrace the creative is to acknowledge the creator, and the createdness that we ourselves are (and are a part of).

I don’t yet know how these supplies will be used; from colouring books to mapping an outline to coordinating old photos – who knows! They may be used tomorrow, or left in their packages until fall.
But they are there: waiting to be unpacked and used. Not unlike the spiritual gifts that we are given. To use, to share, to extend, to bless.
So let’s break out the colourful nature of our lives, and enjoy the time and potential that lies before.

Making Connections

Some weeks ago, my old FitBit broke. It wasn’t a huge surprise; I’ve had it for many years, and I am not always the most careful person. Over time, it had acquired several cracks on the screen, I’d gone through 4 or 5 straps, there was a mysterious chip out of the back metal part…

So when it finally one day just stopped: oh well.

Fortunately, I am in a position where I could get myself a newer model; still nothing fancy (I am hard on my devices!) but nice enough to accomplish what I want.

However, I was left with the proprietary charger, and the left-over strap from the old device. It would have really been easy to just toss away, but on a whim I offered it on the local free-recycling group. I didn’t expect it to go anywhere, but there was no harm holding on to it for a little bit longer.

As it turns out, there was someone else in the group that had been looking for that charger… they’re no longer available for purchase, and without it, their FitBit hadn’t worked in months. So we arranged a time for the exchange.

When we met, this person was absolutely delighted. We had a lovely conversation, they asked about the church and I was able to give them a walk-through. We spoke about faith and spiritual journeys and the power of prayer. The interaction was only maybe 15 minutes, but it was positive for us both.

We never know how we are going to find connections, and we are not able to predict the outcome of them. But if we don’t make any effort, we definitely won’t have them. It would have been easy for me to just bin that cord, but instead it served to connect – in more ways than one.

While we know the importance of connections, and we value our established ones, it can also be helpful to remember that not every connection needs to be a deep or long one to be of benefit. God puts a lot of people into our paths each day, and puts us into the paths of a lot of others. When we’re fortunate enough to make a connection, whether it’s long or short, we can choose to see the holiness of the moment, and delight in the unexpected ways we've been brought together.

Untangled

One of the things that’s been ignored on a shelf is a dragonfly wind chime. It had become all tangled up, and I just hadn’t bothered to get to untangling it… until today. Some extra-hot days have meant the dogs and I have been inside a lot. While I’m not bored and looking for things, it caught my eye today and I decided to tackle it.

And tackle I did! I had it hung up at eye-level, so I could master the knottedness and get it done.
It took quite a bit of time, and careful work to gradually re-adjust the strings (whilst pondering how they got that jumbled in the first place!). Releasing one set of strings added a new challenge, as the weight dispersal shifted and everything moved. There were times when two hands were not enough. A few times I started to feel frustrated, so I simply left it as it was, and returned later.

However, after the care and effort (and an ice cream bar), the wind chime was hanging as it ought, with dragonflies floating carefree and reflecting the light beautifully. I’ve hung it at the window I had intended. This makes me happy!

As I worked on this, I reflected that this affair is not unlike human interactions. At times we get tangled up, and it feels like more of an effort than we’re willing to make: the process of straightening things out may feel overwhelming and hardly worth it.

Sometimes, that may be the case.
Yet we can recognise that other times, we do want to experience the untangled outcome: and so we commit to the actions necessary to unscramble the confusion. It doesn’t mean there will be no setbacks, or that it will be without frustrations. It doesn’t even mean that it will be a successful endeavour.

What it does mean, however, is that the goal to straightening things out is a priority. That the desire for clarity overtakes the easier road of giving up. And it means that the potential reward of beauty and appreciation is just on the other side.

Which means, to my thinking, that it’s worth at least considering. How many relations have been tangled, that might yet be waiting on the shelf? How many opportunities do we have to right wrongs and re-connect? How often do we simply give up when the other tangled strings are wanting to try and sort it all out?

Life is messy, and entanglements are inevitable. For me, the freeing the trapped dragonflies is time well spent.

 

What's the Work-Around?

There are times that a certain thing gets used for an unintended (but effective!) purpose: things like the ubiquitous cookie tin that becomes the sewing kit; or the stack of books that becomes the computer riser.

These aren’t wrong; they’re a work-around.

Finding workarounds in other aspects of life is common; we’re faced with opportunities to view things from a different vantage point, to consider alternatives approaches to a task, and consider what other avenues we might go down.

For some, however, they see the world with rigid or unmovable stance: we do things the way we do things, and that’s that… if you need a sewing tin, you buy a sewing tin (and not enjoy the cookies); if you need a computer riser then your books stay on the shelf, etc. This can backfire if a new purchase is not viable, or a product is unavailable. Thus, function is impeded.

Similarly, to try and go forward without respecting the framework can also lead to increased challenges. We need to have certain parameters for our lives, especially when we interact with each other. There can be a benefit of flexibility, but without communication and agreement, a lack of structure leads to a mess.

Hence: the work-around. Life presents us with enough challenges that often we need to find an alternate way of moving forward. It’s finding a solution to a minor hiccup that will respect the boundaries, allowing for creative re-thinking of the circumstance.

The work-around is never meant to reject or ignore the established parameters or rules, but to be open to new and different ways of using the gifts that we have.

As people who are called to love other people, the workaround gives us the chance to help others, the make things better for them, without causing any harm to us. Maybe it’s as easy as adjusting a schedule, or re-formatting a meeting to be accessible through technology. It can be asking for help, or extending timelines.

Some of the work-arounds we find are from a creative idea; others are from necessity (like diminished budgets or changed staffing) One of the things COVID taught us was that we do have the ability to be flexible, and to find a workaround; it wasn’t easy, nor preferable, and often it wasn’t successful; but we did what we did, all of us, to do our best.

I wonder what what could happen if we commit to that spirit of solution-finding this week; to seeking ways to connect, to assist, to overcome the obstacles in our lives, that we might live the full life that God wants us to.
What’s your workaround?

Shoo Fly!

There was a fly at my window this week. All week, buzzing insistently at the screen. The weather had been lovely, and the window had been open a lot of the time – and the fly was so focused on getting back outside, that it would not leave the window, even when it was closed or when I tried to shoo it away. (The screen simply would not come out for me.)

The fly died this week, on the windowsill; from dehydration or starvation or heat exhaustion – who knows. But dead it is; I noted one morning the silence at the window and hoped it had moved to a different part of the house.
Alas; I was wrong.

We often hear the expression “when one door closes a window opens” (or similar adage); and this is meant to bring us comfort and hope. Doors close in our lives on a regular basis; our childhood aspirations change as we grow, our experiences mould us in one direction (and not another), our desires shift as we grow and find our ways in the world.

Sometimes these closed doors feel like an offense or an insult; at other times we are grateful as they protect us from a path that is not ours.
Yet we trust that some other window will open; another door is waiting for us, our journey is not over just because one door has closed.

I think the sadness comes when we can perceive an opening, but are unable to breach through it – like the fly and the window screen. So focused was this fly on getting outside, it did not recognise that this window was not the opening it needed. How often have we continued in one path, with blind determination, even when we know deep down it is not the path for us? How often have we exhausted ourselves going in a direction that does not lead to a life-giving existence?

This is of course the experience of discernment, trying and failing; trying and succeeding; trying and trying. And it is a process that continues, as we have the pleasure of experiencing more and more of life’s adventures.

My prayer is that as we discern what windows God has opened for us, that we honour them for what they are; sometimes a pathway, sometimes a vantage point, sometimes a pause as we continue on our way. May we not get stuck in one space, such that it prevents us from the full life that God is calling us towards.

Alan! Alan! oops... Steve! Steve!

Screengrab of a confused gopher

Some years ago, the BBC put together a compilation of animal voice overs – that were quite amusing. One of them, involving a gopher, has popped up recently a few times in my contacts.
This gopher is standing on his hind legs, presumably trying to get the attention of another critter; after several outbursts of “Alan! Alan! Alan!” there’s a presumed thought of “that’s not Alan, that’s Steve!” before the critter again cries out, this time “Steve! Steve! Steve!”

While amusing, there’s also a bit of a point to be gleaned from this poor gopher.
Mistakes happen.
And correcting ourselves is okay.

The reality is that none of us gets through things perfectly; we all make mistakes. Whether it’s posting something on social media in the wrong place, typos, dialing a wrong number, calling someone by the wrong name… it happens.

What happens next is important. For when we are wrong, we should want to be given the chance to apologise, and to try and do things better moving forward.

Apologies are hard; they require us to focus on what we’ve done (not the other person’s reaction), to not try to explain ourselves away (the word “but” doesn’t belong in an apology!), to not diminish the other person’s hurt, to legitimately try to change behaviour (so as not to repeat the offense), etc.

Admitting our mistakes also presumes grace. Just as the comedic gopher meant no harm to his friend, if Gopher Steve had been cranky, there could be a rift in the rodent friendship. Yet the one who makes the mistake hopes for a chance to do better – to get it right in the immediate, and be more intentional in the future – about their own actions, and to be more considerate of others.

We also hope, when we do make mistakes, that others will respond to our gaffs with grace and forgiveness; usually our genuine mistakes are just mistakes, with no harm intended. Thus, it gives us the chance to practice some flexibility and extend some grace when others make mistakes towards us.

Not all mistakes are as small as a wrong name, nor are all mistakes easily repaired. But with the intention to do unto others as we would have them do unto us, one hopes to have healthy connections as we move through life together.

 

I Want To be Good

My dog wants to behave.

And she tries… really, really hard!

At least, until she gets distracted. Usually by another dog, or a bouncing hare, or the friendly neighbours… and then: she forgets her training, her intention, her desire to be good. The chase drive just takes over her little puppy brain.

At times, usually when she can calculate that she is too far away anyway, I see her resume control over her emotions. But generally, my leash-carrying arm gets tugged a little enthusiastically as she is keen to make herself a new racing friend.

I wonder how often we, as humans, get distracted away from our desire to be good, to do that right thing. When the influences in the world surprise us away from that narrow path, and lead us into that well-cited temptation. Does the morning coffee aroma guide my thoughts away from the daily office? Is the ringing phone derailing the sermon prep? Is the grumbling tummy minimising my patience when speaking with extra-grace-required people? Do the adorable (and a-dork-able) antics of the dogs override my intention to send those follow-up emails?

Yes. Of course. Because life is like that: a collection of good intentions that mostly happen – and sometimes don’t.

But, like my dog, I think it is important that we keep trying: every day, every encounter, every opportunity. For it’s never the wrong time to do the right thing. And, God willing, I get it right more often than not; and, God willing, I'll get better the more I try.

A Life of Luxury

I’ve had a few conversations this week where the word “luxury” came up.

It was not in the traditional understanding: we were not discussing fancy cars, state-of-the-art technology, excessive jewelry, etc.

One person had mentioned that they grew up in comfortable surroundings, and had not realised that those were actually luxurious. Emotionally, there was a family that loved her, education, safety… physically, they did not suffer – there was food on the table, a roof overhead, annual vacations…

The definition of luxury is a state of great comfort or extravagant living.

Yet, we often consider this in a very privileged way; another conversation this week addressed our reality of luxurious living.

* About 1/3 of the world does not have access to safe drinking water, and half the world’s population experiences water scarcity at least half of the year.
* 1 in 10 people experience hunger; 1 in 6 experience food insecurity.
* Over 250 million children (mostly girls) do not have access to basic education.
* Nearly 10% of the world’s population does not have access to electricity.
* Half the world’s population lacks access to essential health care services.

… the list goes on, affecting people close to home as well as farther away. Even those with access to goods and services may not be able to afford them.

And so those of us who can, and do: we are living in luxury. We have become so accustomed to it that we don’t always see it.

And this is where our faith challenges us to open our eyes: to express gratitude for every privilege and luxury that we have: indoor plumbing, reliable transportation, church pot luck meals (a parable of abundance if there ever was one!)

…and faith. We lavish in the luxury of faith. We are offered extreme spiritual comfort; we are promised spiritual wholeness in extravagant ways.

And these luxuries are unending, and we have opportunity to share them. We know the benefits of faith, and the privilege to teach and invite others to the luxury of a faith community. We may take our spiritual formation for granted, for we have never questioned it: but I invite us to see it as a luxury: a gift, ever-giving from the unending source of love; that supports us, inspires us, and encourages us.

..and empowers us to ensure that all may receive this luxury.

I Could Do That!

Screengrabs from a video by Amaury Guichon, chocolate artist

One of the things I do sometimes (when my brain is reeling too fast) is to watch short videos of dessert artists. By this I mean the cake decorators or chocolate sculptors (or the like), who use common items in ways that are truly impressive.

Of course, my brain takes me to the unlikely place where I actually think: “I Could Do That!”

And, maybe I could: if I were to spend the time in training and practice that these folks have, and invest in the tools and implements that they have, and build up the businesses that they have, and then plan/edit/coordinate the videos the way that do.

I could do that!

The reality is: I’m not going to. I appreciate the 60-second montages of these creative endeavours, but I doubt I would have the long-term interest and desire and commitment to the craft.
And that’s okay!

Instead, I know I spend my time and energy in ways that are fulfilling to me: ways that may have minimal interest to others.

Our society has an abundance of ‘content creators’ who share the edited successes they have. We seldom see the journey to get there; the failures, the trials, the journey of getting there. And if we’re not careful, we can get swept up in the notion that everything is easy, and immediate. We know that to be an inaccurate view of the world, which can lead to unrealistic expectations on ourselves.

And so I remind myself that when I think “I Could Do That!” to hear it with a giggle, and a realistic re-assessment. The journey to getting things right is practice, the discernment to things we’re called to involves trial and error. God blessed us all with unique skills and abilities and interests, and if we try to fit into someone else’s mould of ‘success’ we will deny our own pathway.

We are fearfully and wonderfully made, the psalmist reminds us knit together by God as unique individuals: so too our interests and abilities will reflect the unlimited glory of God. What a pleasure to discover our own gifts to be shared with the world, demonstrating a strong faith to which others might declare “I could do that!”

A Flowery Reflection

Last week, honouring Mothers’ Day, the congregation distributed carnations to the women. The flowers were pink, and white, and red - all were beautiful, and a lovely gesture.

I received a flower that was less opened than some of the others. The friend who gave it to me said that I could watch it open for longer – and enjoy the beauty yet unseen (which has been the case this week!)

Another friend reflected that as flowers open, we see them with new eyes: for they reveal new perspectives, new colours, new joys.

Life is like that: ever unfolding, opening, renewing. The root is the same, but how the world perceives it changes.

Our faith mirrors this: we are rooted and grounded in love, and the result of that is what joy we can offer to the world. (Regardless if the world will receive it, we continue to have opportunity to share beauty and love.)

May our love for God and for God’s world continue to open: giving new colour, texture, and aroma to add depth and character to our lives.
May our ministries continue to bloom, responding faithfully to our situations and contexts, in ways that are life-giving and hope-growing.