Bless Your Heart

I heard the word ‘bless’ a lot last week… in chapel prayers, in conversations, in music, overheard in unexpected ways at the coffee shop.

Perhaps my favourite was in a discussion with a friend about time for planning, and I mentioned I had walked about 3km in the commute. “Bless your heart,” said my friend, “I have no idea what a kilometre is.”

After our Canadian/USAmerican giggles stopped, our discussion went into the variance of the word ‘bless.’ For we know that it can be colloquially used as a negative (even song lyrics suggest that blessing to be more of a curse), we both agreed that when we say (and hear) the word bless, we opt to presume the best.

Bless your heart to my friend is not a veiled insult, but rather an expression of care. When she uses it, she means that her heart wishes the best for the heart and soul of the person she’s talking with. I agreed, indicating that in my daily use, I have truncated it to ‘bless’ with the same intention. 

Importantly, for us, such regular and repeated use of the word has not diminished nor dissipated the impact and intent. Rather, we say and hear it as an opportunity to consider how to bless and wish the best for the people we encounter. 

So whether it is the security guard who asked my denomination before offering me a heartfelt “God bless you!” as I walked through the metal detector, or the woman in the coffee line ahead of me sarcastically speaking “well, bless his cheating self” into her cell phone -  each gave me the chance to pause in prayer, and to ask God’s blessings.

For me, the privilege is to orient my mind and heart towards the positive, regardless of the intention of the speaker of the word. So bless my heart when I speak in kilometres, and bless the undercaffeinated who have been wronged, and bless the folks who lead prayers and those who sing God’s praise and those who merely think the word is verbal punctuation. Bless their hearts - for we receive a blessing when we choose to also bless. 

Mystical Snow

I had opportunity to shovel snow this week. 

As a Canadian, this is not a surprising turn of events in the winter months. 

However, this time I was shovelling with some friends; we we’re working together to clear the driveway. 

It was one of those clear, beautiful evenings where the flakes were continuing to descend, floating carelessly through the air. It was almost mystical to experience the silence, as though we could reach through the veil of this world and encounter the divine directly. 

While I realize there are scientific reasons for the silence during a snowfall, I also recognize that mysticism is like a snowfall. It catches our attention, as it inspires us to look deeper into the reality that we are dwelling within. It fires within us a yearning for something more, increased understanding, deeper meaning. The presence of the divine is undeniable, in how we feel, how we engage, and how we interact with one another.

The precise moment cannot be captured, but it may be remembered. It cannot be contained physically, but it will continue to hold a place in our hearts. It may not be astonishing to everyone who is there, but to those who are open to receive it, the glory of God is there.

Like snowflakes: unique, precious, abundant (more than desired at times!), the grace of God flows and amasses in our lives. And how we choose to acknowledge one to this grace, alone or with people we care about, is entirely our decision. 

Our time of shovelling may not be the experience that many would consider to be holy (for it is such a regular occurrence, often considered a chore to be endured or outsourced to children or entrepreneurs) For myself, it was sacred: we were gathered for a shared purpose for the benefit of us all, we were laughing as we engaged in the requisite task, and we did the work that was before us. And there was play. It was lovely. 

The mystics teach us about finding the presence of the divine in the ordinariness of everyday life. The presence of God is undeniable, even in such mundane moments as shovelling snow. The holiness comes to us when we recognize the holy presence is as ordinary as a snowflake. 

Worth Staying Up For

We’re still in that time of year when the sun sets early, and the chill in the air inspires early evenings with a good book under a blanket.

This presents a challenge for me at times, however, as I could easily go to sleep at that early hour – and my circadian rhythm is such that I either wake up after a certain amount of time, or as the sun rises – whichever comes first.

So if I go to sleep early, I am rising before the sun… not ideal when I desire to be functional the next day. Likewise, when I stay up too late, the solar wake-up call denies me my preferred duration of rest. There is, therefore, that sweet spot of starting my slumber.

This is where I benefit from having friends and hobbies, with whom I can spend these evening hours. On those evenings when my eyelids are drooping far too early, a conversation with a friend can maintain consciousness until a reasonable hour for my sleep pattern.

There are times, delightfully, when these conversations and shared times extend beyond the ideal; thereby cutting into my sleep-time.

These, however, are worth staying up for. For while rest is important – so too is recreation. Just as the body needs rest, the soul needs re-creation. These two components are meant to be in balance for our own well-being. 

And so spending time in safe and comfortable companionship is a form of both rest and recreation; it restores who we are and how we can be. So I remain grateful for the mornings with yawns that follow late evenings of laughter, for these mean I have celebrated the wholeness of myself with the great gift of good friends.

And good friends – that gift from God – are always worth staying up for.

Word Salad

I enjoy salad – there is a tasty benefit from a mixture of fresh vegetables (and usually some cheese!) It seems to me to be even more enjoyable than eating the vegetables on their own (which I also enjoy greatly – I’ve been vegetarian for 25+ years!).

I also enjoy when words and phrases come together in interesting ways, wherein they start to complement each other, and enhance what I get out of them. A word salad, then, like a meal, can be an experience where the sum is larger than the parts.

I’ve recently been pondering over a number of phrases heard in sermons. Each of these on their own is great and spiritually nourishing – those homiletic nuggets of wisdom or inspiration – some recent examples include that we are “baptised into discipleship” and invited to let the Gospel “whet the appetite of hope.”

Again – these are beneficial on their own; yet even more enriching when they start to combine and influence others. These become a salad of good news – the nourishment of goodness, if you will.

Within this interconnection and interrelation of goodness, we individually and collectively play a part: in how we engage, in what we offer the world, in ways that we allow God to move in and through us to not only be enriched but also to provide opportunities for nourishment of others.

We can choose to take ourselves – who and whose we are, the gifts and skills we have been given – and share those with those around us. In doing so, we are bringing ourselves out of being alone, and are embracing mutually complement. The better we are, the better others can be; and the better others are, the better we can become. Like a fabulous salad, or collection of holy insights, or the community of the faithful.

What nuggets of wisdom have impacted/influenced/inspired your faith journey, in ways that take you to a place of providing the richness of the Gospel to others? 

Broken Cookies

A dear friend recently gifted me with homemade cookies. I was assured they were made with love, and I could definitely taste the emotion in the treats!

At one point, I dropped the tin (there *may* have been a dog underfoot!) – and some of the cookies broke. While this was not a tragedy by any means, it was disappointing.

Now, we know that broken cookies are still entirely enjoyable – and I didn’t hesitate to enjoy them! – we also know that broken cookies are, well, broken. They have been damaged, and cannot be put back together. They are not the ones we serve to guests, they are not the ones that we would give to others, they are – crummy/crumby. Sometimes these breaks can be mended, and covered, but the fissures remain.

People are similar. We, individually and as communities, can be broken by the actions of others. And while we reconstruct and restore ourselves, we are never the same as we were before the break. We establish new ways of being, and new community, and new patterns of life; sometimes with the same people, sometimes with new folks altogether.

We are okay: a break does not mean the end of the journey. But it does mean the future pathways will look differently.

And so part of our call is to do our best to prevent the breaks from happening in the first place. In strengthening our bonds with each other, we establish networks of support that hold up and protect each other. And while part of reality is acknowledging that some people feel the need to break others apart, others will aim for means to prevent breaks in the first place.

Let’s be intentional about supporting wholeness – in ourselves, and in each other. It’s accepting invitations to difficult conversations, it’s in creating safe spaces where people can be authentic and vulnerable, it’s in rejecting bad behaviours that exist ‘because we’ve always done it that way’. It’s choosing to love, as God calls us to do.

So let’s love: knowing that we’re all going to drop, and be dropped, from time to time: but also always assured that like a broken cookie, we don’t lose our value.

"My soul seems to have grown."

“My soul seems to have grown.”

This was a line I read in a novel last week, where the character was describing the experience of expanding their field of reference. The character had been challenged to focus on the horizon as they traversed a desert. They were surprised as they explained that it felt that the result was personal growth of dramatic proportions.

While it was a wonderful articulation of experiencing the broader realities of life, it highlighted for me again the application of spiritual formation in our lives. First, that we are meant to be continually forming ourselves; growing in our soul and mind and spirit (and how we express those in the world). Secondly, the language we choose when we try to articulate that growth.
Because I have encountered great variances these applications!

So this week, I have spent time intentionally pondering my own spiritual formation: how have I seen the presence of the divine in my daily interactions? In what ways am I looking beyond my immediate sphere? How often do I recognise the opportunity for ministry in ways and methods that one seldom considers for them?

And: how do I talk about that? For me, it is easy to discuss spiritual and religious topics: prayer, angels, the Christ – these do not give me pause in conversation, but I know for many they do. It can be a delicate dance in our multi-cultural world to be respectfully engaging and articulate about our faith. As a culture, do we even have the language to describe our own spiritual journey, even as we invite those around us to continue their journey?

It was quite the mental exercise, and one that stayed with me throughout the week – and continues to ruminate through my heart and my mind. So I share it with you now, to do with what you like.

And I hope that your experience of such ponderings will also be to have a deeper, broader, and wider expression of faith; to be able to identify the ways in which “my soul seems to have grown” this week. 

Holy Squirrels!

Apparently, January 21 is Squirrel Appreciation Day.

This makes me giggle. There are considered to be adorable, until their rodent ways come out and they chew through something important to us. (When camping, we call squirrels mini-bears – as they can chew into the food stores and ruin a trip in a hurry!). We joke that they often get flattened mid-road due to their indecisive nature… something that’s a little off is described as a little bit squirrelly. There’s a gag that squirrels are nature’s tennis balls for dogs – something to chase! And perhaps most commonly, we consider our temporary distractions to be ‘squirrel’ moments.

However we feel about squirrels, yesterday we were meant to appreciate them.

As someone who often has those ‘squirrel moments, where my attention quickly and unexpectedly veers off course, it can be hard to be appreciative… yet perhaps those interruptions can be moments of grace, that are helping us to refocus.

Perhaps our squirrel moments come to us when we need a break in whatever piece of work we’re engaged in…. or they disrupt a flow of conversation where there is increasing tension. Maybe the squirrel moment can break a cycle of sadness in our minds, or just draw our attention to something even better than what we intend to focus on.

Perhaps our squirrel moments are Spirit moments, where the holy presence in the world is breaking into our inmost selves and inviting us to pause, reflect, take a breath, and recognise that more is happening in our midst than we are aware of. We can use those moments to reground our actions, to reorient our thoughts, to recenter ourselves.

Maybe we have much to learn from squirrels, and from their namesake distraction.

Or maybe it’s just a rodent that society wants us to appreciate for a day (unlike our feelings towards them the other 364 days a year).

However we feel about them, we can at least honour their lessons to breathe deeply, stretch well, and celebrate that life can be a little bit nutty.