In light of St. Patrick's Day, I wanted to share my favourite part of it. (Although, homemade Irish stew and soda bread with Magners was a good way to celebrate too. And watching Once.)
"...I do not know how to provide for the future. But this I know for certain: that...I was like a stone that had fallen into a deep mire. And He Who is mighty came and in His mercy picked me up and indeed lifted me high to place me on top of the wall...Who was it that lifted up me -stupid me -from the middle of those who seemed to be wise and skilled in the law and powerful in rhetoric and in all matters? And Who was it that inspired me -me! -above others to be such a person (if only I were!) as could do good faithfully -in gear and reverence and without complaint -to that people to whom Christ's love transported me and gave me: if I should prove worthy in short to be of service to them in humility and truth? Consequently, I take this to be a measure of my faith in the Trinity that, without regard to danger, I make known God's gift and the eternal comfort He provides: that I spread God's name everywhere dutifully and without fear; so that after my death I may have a legacy to so many thousands of people...whom I have baptised in the Lord."
~St. Patrick's Confession, fifth century
Almost 8 years ago I copied that confession into my journal, sitting on the floor of St. Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin. (Probably that's a major faux pas, sitting on the floor, but it was the only place where I could read the plaque and write it down at the same time.) I love that confession...and hope that it is true for me too. So beautiful.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
.beautiful thoughts.
I just read a book called "The Clear Light of Day" by Penelope Wilcock. The plot is virtually non-existent and predictable, but is the necessary framework for some delightful insights. A few of the characters have great conversations and beautiful thoughts, so I thought I'd share a few quotes here.
"I believe in the stories you hear of people who died and were resuscitated. Those stories about a long tunnel leading up to the light. And the light is full of love and truth. I believe that. Light that sears and light that dances, exquisite to take your breath away, blinding bright. Light that could cut like a laser but also nourish and heal and clean like sunshine. I believe in that. And that one day I will find my way home there. Or maybe not. Is that God --what I believe in?"
[Seer Ember explaining her name]
"Seer. 'Tis a word, you know, you a holy woman. One who sees, a seer is. Inside sight. And I expect you come across an ember before today. The embers is all that's left when a fire dies, but the real heat of the fire is there, under the ashes. Embers look like nothing, finished --but woe betide you if you don't treat 'em with respect. 'Seer Ember.' See?...I bow my head to Jesus Christ, for he walked, and he stopped, and he was nailed; he understood the speed of love. Love burns slow. Enduring. But I want my own name. I'm nobody's property. I am what I am, and my name's my own self. Seer Ember. I sit in the ashes now, but I still got a spark, and I know reality when I see it."
"I believe in the mysteries of Christianity, don't mistake me. Where I stand in life I can well see the cross, and I comprehend its power to transform. I see the resurrection, too, how it lies at the heart of things. If a thing is true, then its truth runs through all of the universe; you take soundings anywhere and you'll find the same truth. Every winter and spring, every sunset and sunrise is the melody of resurrection, and the Christ sits at the heart of it like the pip at the heart of the cherry. There's a deep reverence in me for who Christ is; I know him. I know. But when I told you I got no time for the church, I'm speaking about the house of cards that's built on the top of the mysteries. I'm not interested in all of that. It interferes with the nature of things like Victorian corsets interfere with a woman's body. What I live by is the interweaving and interdependence of all life. The vitality of Spirit is in all creation like sap or blood or breath --even in the stones and the dust and the light, everything. So I believe in treading gently; in healing it where it's hurt and holding it where it's in danger; not using up too much, not taking what isn't given. I think I'm not separate from anything that shares life with me; if I hurt you or disrespect you, I diminish myself...We are all one thing, the being of God expressed in creation, most lovable, most profoundly to be adored. To me 'integrity' means the out-living of that oneness in accountability; looking after things, being trustworthy, keeping faith."
"..I suppose what you mean is the relationship between holiness and wholeness. In the Lord's Prayer, 'hallowed be thy name,' the word hallow means holy but comes from the same root as in the Old English greeting wes hal! which means 'be thou whole!' and is the basis for our modern hallow. Healing, completeness, come from the Spirit."
"...I believe we are held in God. It is all sacred because it is held in the mind of God and maintains its being because it is held in the heart of God. We are in God as the save is in the ocean; and God is in us as the ocean is in the wave...
"When I was a child Mother had a text framed...IF GOD FEELS FAR AWAY FROM YOU --WHO MOVED? After Dad and Mother died, I took it down because I never liked it. Because I think if you feel far away from God that's just part of the loneliness of being we all suffer. Maybe it means you need a hug or a cup of tea with a friend or an early night, but it can't possibly mean you moved away from God; I mean, where would you go? 'Whither can I go from thy Spirit?' God wouldn't be God if God had finite being --love you could stray outside of...
I believe every agony, every cruelty, every adversity is a chance to learn wisdom and compassion, a better way. Patience. Like the paintings that show Christ's hands open, with the nails in their palms. Not clenched. Agonized, but open. It isn't how it must have been, physically; it's an icon of the spiritual wisdom of the cross. And even while I'm struggling to explain, I know it doesn't all tie up neat. There's just some things I don't understand. But in my heart I feel it."
"Simplify; small is beautiful; cherish the living earth; bless the community where you live; think globally, act locally; watch your boundaries; choose what is handmade with love; don't eat food you don't like; don't be deprived of firelight; don't take anything seriously; and don't let people get you down."
"Ember, do you pray?"
"I light fires...Anywhere. In the orchard. In the little hearth in my bedroom. At my old place I lit 'em in the garden near the hedge. Under the stars is best. Fires is fragrant, and calls to the Being at the heart of it all. Twig by twig I makes 'em. I takes my time --just little fires we're talking about, not roaring great bonfires. On the burning I lay dried pinecones from the woods and the roadside. Slips of rosemary, dried sage. In the smoke is all my yearnings. Dreams that never came to be. My sense of home. In the smoke is the brown bears, kept in cages, their gallbladders tapped for bile for Chinese medicine. And foxes, running for home, not knowing their earth is blocked by the hunter. And the forests, cut down for loggers and cattle ranchers. And the streams, fouled with factory effluents and sewage corpses. In the smoke is the bluebell woods and the daffodil woods, the brilliance of the moon, and a bird singing after dusk on a warm summer night. The sound of the surf on the shingle, and the wind in the tops of the pines. I sits by the fire, and I says nothing, although sometimes I weep. I'm not sure what deity is, my love; but life is sacred, life is wise. One day, if my smoke finds the way home, and wakes the great Spirit, then the face of life that is death will come speeding silent like a hunting owl, and take the cancer of humanity off this poor, stripped, raped mother Earth, take it silent and quick, no more than a squeak of alarm; and the mountains will have their peace again, and the oceans give back the heavenly blue. The guns and the cars will rust, and the televisions will be quiet at last, and the factories and schools and government buildings will be for the bramble, the rat, and the crow. Is that what you call praying? Or is it just fires?"
"Take quiet time every day. Invite your God. Say, 'God, have you got your full attention on this moment? Good. So have I.' I tell you what isn't prayer, my love. Worrying isn't."
"My experience is limited, but I guess you have to be wary of eloquence. In general, if a man is in love --I mean really, deeply in love --you won't get much more out of him than the bleat of a strangled sheep when he tries to tell you how much he cares for you. Never trust the staying power of a love that can be expressed as 'I adore you, darling!'"
"I had a day when I asked myself, What is it all? What's it for? I remember it, I was standing in the lane that leads off the top of Stoddards Hill, high summer, and I just stood there and listened to the heartbeat of it, and I saw that life held out its hands to me, and that in the very core of it all there is joy. Make no difference that you got to grieve sometimes and these things happen that tear the very gut out of you. Makes no difference. Its heartbeat is joy, and it holds out its hands to you, and the only doorway into it is this living moment. Worry and fear and longing and desire is about living in tomorrow, and grief and bitterness and regret and pain is living in yesterday. Life is joy, and joy is never tomorrow. There is only now. If you ain't living now, why, then, you're dead. And trying to please other people slams the door to joy shut in your face. Walk your own track. Listen to life's voice with your own ears. Don't trust truth in packets, especially the ones got warnings and contracts with 'em. Don't parade your soul around; live quiet and small and simple. Don't blame anybody for what happens, don't ask favours and don't look for approval. There's joy at the middle, but you got to trust things enough to turn your back on the party and choose it."
"To walk with God is an unfolding rhythm of life, a wild music of many moods and tempos, embracing the shadows of doubt and disillusionment and the black dark of despair as well as the sweet blue heavens of joy and affirmation, the glorious sunset colours of the soul moved by beauty, amazed by peace."
"I believe in the stories you hear of people who died and were resuscitated. Those stories about a long tunnel leading up to the light. And the light is full of love and truth. I believe that. Light that sears and light that dances, exquisite to take your breath away, blinding bright. Light that could cut like a laser but also nourish and heal and clean like sunshine. I believe in that. And that one day I will find my way home there. Or maybe not. Is that God --what I believe in?"
[Seer Ember explaining her name]
"Seer. 'Tis a word, you know, you a holy woman. One who sees, a seer is. Inside sight. And I expect you come across an ember before today. The embers is all that's left when a fire dies, but the real heat of the fire is there, under the ashes. Embers look like nothing, finished --but woe betide you if you don't treat 'em with respect. 'Seer Ember.' See?...I bow my head to Jesus Christ, for he walked, and he stopped, and he was nailed; he understood the speed of love. Love burns slow. Enduring. But I want my own name. I'm nobody's property. I am what I am, and my name's my own self. Seer Ember. I sit in the ashes now, but I still got a spark, and I know reality when I see it."
"I believe in the mysteries of Christianity, don't mistake me. Where I stand in life I can well see the cross, and I comprehend its power to transform. I see the resurrection, too, how it lies at the heart of things. If a thing is true, then its truth runs through all of the universe; you take soundings anywhere and you'll find the same truth. Every winter and spring, every sunset and sunrise is the melody of resurrection, and the Christ sits at the heart of it like the pip at the heart of the cherry. There's a deep reverence in me for who Christ is; I know him. I know. But when I told you I got no time for the church, I'm speaking about the house of cards that's built on the top of the mysteries. I'm not interested in all of that. It interferes with the nature of things like Victorian corsets interfere with a woman's body. What I live by is the interweaving and interdependence of all life. The vitality of Spirit is in all creation like sap or blood or breath --even in the stones and the dust and the light, everything. So I believe in treading gently; in healing it where it's hurt and holding it where it's in danger; not using up too much, not taking what isn't given. I think I'm not separate from anything that shares life with me; if I hurt you or disrespect you, I diminish myself...We are all one thing, the being of God expressed in creation, most lovable, most profoundly to be adored. To me 'integrity' means the out-living of that oneness in accountability; looking after things, being trustworthy, keeping faith."
"..I suppose what you mean is the relationship between holiness and wholeness. In the Lord's Prayer, 'hallowed be thy name,' the word hallow means holy but comes from the same root as in the Old English greeting wes hal! which means 'be thou whole!' and is the basis for our modern hallow. Healing, completeness, come from the Spirit."
"...I believe we are held in God. It is all sacred because it is held in the mind of God and maintains its being because it is held in the heart of God. We are in God as the save is in the ocean; and God is in us as the ocean is in the wave...
"When I was a child Mother had a text framed...IF GOD FEELS FAR AWAY FROM YOU --WHO MOVED? After Dad and Mother died, I took it down because I never liked it. Because I think if you feel far away from God that's just part of the loneliness of being we all suffer. Maybe it means you need a hug or a cup of tea with a friend or an early night, but it can't possibly mean you moved away from God; I mean, where would you go? 'Whither can I go from thy Spirit?' God wouldn't be God if God had finite being --love you could stray outside of...
I believe every agony, every cruelty, every adversity is a chance to learn wisdom and compassion, a better way. Patience. Like the paintings that show Christ's hands open, with the nails in their palms. Not clenched. Agonized, but open. It isn't how it must have been, physically; it's an icon of the spiritual wisdom of the cross. And even while I'm struggling to explain, I know it doesn't all tie up neat. There's just some things I don't understand. But in my heart I feel it."
"Simplify; small is beautiful; cherish the living earth; bless the community where you live; think globally, act locally; watch your boundaries; choose what is handmade with love; don't eat food you don't like; don't be deprived of firelight; don't take anything seriously; and don't let people get you down."
"Ember, do you pray?"
"I light fires...Anywhere. In the orchard. In the little hearth in my bedroom. At my old place I lit 'em in the garden near the hedge. Under the stars is best. Fires is fragrant, and calls to the Being at the heart of it all. Twig by twig I makes 'em. I takes my time --just little fires we're talking about, not roaring great bonfires. On the burning I lay dried pinecones from the woods and the roadside. Slips of rosemary, dried sage. In the smoke is all my yearnings. Dreams that never came to be. My sense of home. In the smoke is the brown bears, kept in cages, their gallbladders tapped for bile for Chinese medicine. And foxes, running for home, not knowing their earth is blocked by the hunter. And the forests, cut down for loggers and cattle ranchers. And the streams, fouled with factory effluents and sewage corpses. In the smoke is the bluebell woods and the daffodil woods, the brilliance of the moon, and a bird singing after dusk on a warm summer night. The sound of the surf on the shingle, and the wind in the tops of the pines. I sits by the fire, and I says nothing, although sometimes I weep. I'm not sure what deity is, my love; but life is sacred, life is wise. One day, if my smoke finds the way home, and wakes the great Spirit, then the face of life that is death will come speeding silent like a hunting owl, and take the cancer of humanity off this poor, stripped, raped mother Earth, take it silent and quick, no more than a squeak of alarm; and the mountains will have their peace again, and the oceans give back the heavenly blue. The guns and the cars will rust, and the televisions will be quiet at last, and the factories and schools and government buildings will be for the bramble, the rat, and the crow. Is that what you call praying? Or is it just fires?"
"Take quiet time every day. Invite your God. Say, 'God, have you got your full attention on this moment? Good. So have I.' I tell you what isn't prayer, my love. Worrying isn't."
"My experience is limited, but I guess you have to be wary of eloquence. In general, if a man is in love --I mean really, deeply in love --you won't get much more out of him than the bleat of a strangled sheep when he tries to tell you how much he cares for you. Never trust the staying power of a love that can be expressed as 'I adore you, darling!'"
"I had a day when I asked myself, What is it all? What's it for? I remember it, I was standing in the lane that leads off the top of Stoddards Hill, high summer, and I just stood there and listened to the heartbeat of it, and I saw that life held out its hands to me, and that in the very core of it all there is joy. Make no difference that you got to grieve sometimes and these things happen that tear the very gut out of you. Makes no difference. Its heartbeat is joy, and it holds out its hands to you, and the only doorway into it is this living moment. Worry and fear and longing and desire is about living in tomorrow, and grief and bitterness and regret and pain is living in yesterday. Life is joy, and joy is never tomorrow. There is only now. If you ain't living now, why, then, you're dead. And trying to please other people slams the door to joy shut in your face. Walk your own track. Listen to life's voice with your own ears. Don't trust truth in packets, especially the ones got warnings and contracts with 'em. Don't parade your soul around; live quiet and small and simple. Don't blame anybody for what happens, don't ask favours and don't look for approval. There's joy at the middle, but you got to trust things enough to turn your back on the party and choose it."
"To walk with God is an unfolding rhythm of life, a wild music of many moods and tempos, embracing the shadows of doubt and disillusionment and the black dark of despair as well as the sweet blue heavens of joy and affirmation, the glorious sunset colours of the soul moved by beauty, amazed by peace."
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
.Ash Wednesday.
Alicia and I went to St. Thomas' Ash Wednesday service this morning and it was good to take time to prepare our hearts for this lenten season. I want to share a quote from the canon's homily.
Fast from judging others. Feast on Christ dwelling in them.
Fast from seeing differences. Feast on the unity of life.
Fast from inner darkness. Feast on the reality of light within.
Fast from thoughts of illness. Feast on the healing power of God.
Fast from words that pollute. Feast on words that purify.
Fast from discontent. Feast on gratitude.
Fast from anger. Feast on patience.
Fast from pessimism. Feast on optimism.
Fast from worry. Feast on Divine Providence.
Fast from complaining. Feast on appreciation.
Fast from negatives. Feast on affirmatives.
Fast from unrelenting pleasures. Feast on unceasing prayer.
Fast from hostility. Feast on peace.
Fast from bitterness. Feast on forgiveness.
Fast from self-concern. Feast on compassion for others.
Fast from personal anxiety. Feast on trust.
Fast from discouragement. Feast on hope.
Fast from facts that depress. Feast on truths that uplift.
Fast from lethargy. Feast on enthusiasm.
Fast from suspicion. Feast on truth.
Fast from acts that tear down. Feast on acts that build up.
Fast from thoughts that weaken. Feast on promises that inspire.
Fast from idle gossip. Feast on purposeful silence.
Fast from problems that overwhelm. Feast on prayer that supports
Gentle God, during this season of fasting and feasting, gift us with Your Presence, so we can be a gift to others in carrying out your work. Amen.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
.conviction.
Since we're all created in the image of a communal/relational God, I believe we have a fundamental need for relationships and community.
I have been blessed with amazing friends (and family!) my whole life, but since moving to St. Catharines I have been craving more intentional community. Rather than fitting into each other's schedules on random occasions, I wanted to have more significant connection with my friends.
So, since October, I've been hosting "Soup Sundays" at my house. Basically, anyone is invited to come for lunch at 12:30. There's a core group of about 6 people who try to join me regularly, and a bunch of others who have come on occasion, or who haven't been able to make it out yet.
This past Sunday, all 6 of the "core" people weren't able to make it, but 2 other people had been planning on coming out for the first time. I texted them on Saturday to let them know that they were still welcome, but that it would be a bit different than normal because none of the regulars would be there. They said they'd come another week, and told me to take a break.
The next morning at church, I bumped into a couple who had thought about joining me for lunch that day. I explained to them that I wasn't doing it that day, but they could come any other week.
Then I bumped into 2 other people who had planned on coming to lunch that day. I again explained to them that I was taking a day off.
As I was driving home, I felt convicted. If God has called me to do this, then I need to be faithful to my part, and trust that he'll provide people to come to lunch. And, even if no one comes, then at least I'll have soup.
So, I contacted people from church, whipped together some soup (with some improvisation, because somehow I was out of stock, so it turned out a bit more saucy than soupy) and ended up having a few people over.
I felt so grateful for God's provision, and I don't want to become lazy or doubtful. Obviously I don't want to be legalistic about this, but I do want to be obedient.
So, if you're in the area on a Sunday, feel free to stop by for lunch!
I have been blessed with amazing friends (and family!) my whole life, but since moving to St. Catharines I have been craving more intentional community. Rather than fitting into each other's schedules on random occasions, I wanted to have more significant connection with my friends.
So, since October, I've been hosting "Soup Sundays" at my house. Basically, anyone is invited to come for lunch at 12:30. There's a core group of about 6 people who try to join me regularly, and a bunch of others who have come on occasion, or who haven't been able to make it out yet.
This past Sunday, all 6 of the "core" people weren't able to make it, but 2 other people had been planning on coming out for the first time. I texted them on Saturday to let them know that they were still welcome, but that it would be a bit different than normal because none of the regulars would be there. They said they'd come another week, and told me to take a break.
The next morning at church, I bumped into a couple who had thought about joining me for lunch that day. I explained to them that I wasn't doing it that day, but they could come any other week.
Then I bumped into 2 other people who had planned on coming to lunch that day. I again explained to them that I was taking a day off.
As I was driving home, I felt convicted. If God has called me to do this, then I need to be faithful to my part, and trust that he'll provide people to come to lunch. And, even if no one comes, then at least I'll have soup.
So, I contacted people from church, whipped together some soup (with some improvisation, because somehow I was out of stock, so it turned out a bit more saucy than soupy) and ended up having a few people over.
I felt so grateful for God's provision, and I don't want to become lazy or doubtful. Obviously I don't want to be legalistic about this, but I do want to be obedient.
So, if you're in the area on a Sunday, feel free to stop by for lunch!
Monday, December 31, 2012
.reflections.
2012 has been a big year for my family. My sister and her husband had a baby, I bought a house, my brother got married. Significant events and milestones.
Yet what I find myself remembering most is God's faithfulness. Yes, in those big moments where he was obviously at work. But also in small victories, in daily assurances, in answering prayers beyond my expectations.
Perhaps our lives don't look exactly as we'd hoped they'd be, but God is good and wants good things for his children. I am so grateful for my life, for the place in which God has put me, for the influence he bestows upon me, for the ways in which he chooses to use me, despite my weaknesses, for my many friends, for my family. God has blessed me so much.
And I'm excited about where God will take me next, how he will use me, who he'll be shaping me to be.
Yet what I find myself remembering most is God's faithfulness. Yes, in those big moments where he was obviously at work. But also in small victories, in daily assurances, in answering prayers beyond my expectations.
Perhaps our lives don't look exactly as we'd hoped they'd be, but God is good and wants good things for his children. I am so grateful for my life, for the place in which God has put me, for the influence he bestows upon me, for the ways in which he chooses to use me, despite my weaknesses, for my many friends, for my family. God has blessed me so much.
And I'm excited about where God will take me next, how he will use me, who he'll be shaping me to be.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
.injustice.
I hate when the system fails. Someone is hurting, you go through every channel possible to help them, and every door closes. It's wrong. It makes me angry. And I feel useless.
I'm so thankful that God is still at work. And I can do something: pray.
I'm so thankful that God is still at work. And I can do something: pray.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Sunday, September 30, 2012
.busyness.
September flew by, as it is apt to do.
School began, we had gr. 9 orientation, and gr. 10 and 11 retreats.
In the midst of retreat planning chaos, I hosted a concert at my house, which was lovely.
It was a good month, full of great connections and conversations.
School began, we had gr. 9 orientation, and gr. 10 and 11 retreats.
In the midst of retreat planning chaos, I hosted a concert at my house, which was lovely.
It was a good month, full of great connections and conversations.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
.solitude.
Well, this summer has FLOWN by and now it's back to work. I'm feeling rested and ready for it, which is a great place to be.
I'm now living alone again, so I thought I'd share a few thoughts on solitude from Henri Nouwen.
"When we enter into solitude to be with God alone, we quickly discover how dependent we are. Without the many distractions of our daily lives, we feel anxious and tense. When nobody speaks to us, calls on us, or needs our help, we start feeling like nobodies. Then we begin wondering whether we are useful, valuable, and significant. Our tendency is to leave this fearful solitude quickly and get busy again to reassure ourselves that we are 'somebodies.' But that is a temptation, because what makes us somebodies is not other people's responses to us but God's eternal love for us.
To claim the truth of ourselves we have to cling to our God in solitude as to the One who makes us who we are."
That quote also reminds me of some David Benner I've been reading lately, from his book "Surrender to Love" (which needs to be followed by re-reading "The Gift of Being Yourself"). Taking time to meditate in silence can be difficult...there are always so many distractions (many of which are worthwhile) but it's a good discipline. I deeply desire to know God more experientially, l rather than just theologically or intellectually.
I'm now living alone again, so I thought I'd share a few thoughts on solitude from Henri Nouwen.
"When we enter into solitude to be with God alone, we quickly discover how dependent we are. Without the many distractions of our daily lives, we feel anxious and tense. When nobody speaks to us, calls on us, or needs our help, we start feeling like nobodies. Then we begin wondering whether we are useful, valuable, and significant. Our tendency is to leave this fearful solitude quickly and get busy again to reassure ourselves that we are 'somebodies.' But that is a temptation, because what makes us somebodies is not other people's responses to us but God's eternal love for us.
To claim the truth of ourselves we have to cling to our God in solitude as to the One who makes us who we are."
That quote also reminds me of some David Benner I've been reading lately, from his book "Surrender to Love" (which needs to be followed by re-reading "The Gift of Being Yourself"). Taking time to meditate in silence can be difficult...there are always so many distractions (many of which are worthwhile) but it's a good discipline. I deeply desire to know God more experientially, l rather than just theologically or intellectually.
Friday, July 13, 2012
.wedding.
Tomorrow, my little brother is getting married. I'm really thrilled for him and Laura --it's about time! They are such a good fit for each other. I'm looking forward to celebrating their wedding and officially welcoming Laura into a family that has been hers for years already.
I'm not looking forward to the endless "when is it going to be your turn?" questions. I already fielded off two different people yesterday.
This is a pet peeve of mine. Why is the only area of my life that people are interested in the one that doesn't exist? And even if it did exist, does that discount all the other aspects of my life? I am living a full life! I have many blessings of which I can speak. (And if people really want to know, some challenges too.) And really, if I was about to get married and I wanted you to know, I would tell you. You would have no need to ask.
Well, gotta get my gracious face on.
(incidentally, tomorrow I turn 28.)
I'm not looking forward to the endless "when is it going to be your turn?" questions. I already fielded off two different people yesterday.
This is a pet peeve of mine. Why is the only area of my life that people are interested in the one that doesn't exist? And even if it did exist, does that discount all the other aspects of my life? I am living a full life! I have many blessings of which I can speak. (And if people really want to know, some challenges too.) And really, if I was about to get married and I wanted you to know, I would tell you. You would have no need to ask.
Well, gotta get my gracious face on.
(incidentally, tomorrow I turn 28.)
Sunday, June 17, 2012
.thankful.
It is such a blessing to have my own place. With the exception of the weekend I moved in, I've been able to host at least one person every weekend I've had this house. I love that! I'm not sure that I'm always the best hostess (the last 2 weekends people have had to let themselves in and fend for themselves for a bit until I got home), but I hope that people feel at home here and make themselves comfortable.
I love having an "open door policy" where people can stop by. One morning last weekend I came downstairs to see Jess in my kitchen, leaving me a note because she didn't think I was in.
So, I am thankful for this place. I continue to pray, as I did before I even found it, that it will be used of God to build community and be a place where people feel loved and accepted.
This weekend my whole family was over to celebrate my dad's birthday and father's day, and I realized I need more chairs. Good thing I have a piano bench! How cool to have them all filled!
I'm also thankful that Rach is living with me, even if it's only temporary. I've missed having a roommate, and although we don't see each other super often, it is nice to share this space with someone. I also appreciate our conversations together, and cooking together, and worshipping together
Today after church and after lunch I decided to do a bit of gardening and that it could not wait. My housewarming/open house is next weekend, and it would be good if the backyard looked less haggard. So, before I allowed myself a Sunday afternoon nap, and before the threatening rain came through on its promises, I did a bit of work on the garden with the sweet musical stylings of the Vespers tickling my ears. Rach started laughing at me, and I had to chuckle too, at what a strange sight I must have been.
There are so many things for which I am thankful.
A little while ago in a staff meeting, John mentioned something about not using the words "thank you" in prayer. It has enriched my prayer life to instead use words like, "God, you are so awesome in the ways that you..."
It reminds me that although I am thankful, it is because of who God is. It is good to be reminded of his character, and take those moments of thankfulness as opportunities to know God more. It's pretty incredible how God can take an off-hand remark and use it to help me know and appreciate him in new ways. I am so incredibly blessed.
I love having an "open door policy" where people can stop by. One morning last weekend I came downstairs to see Jess in my kitchen, leaving me a note because she didn't think I was in.
So, I am thankful for this place. I continue to pray, as I did before I even found it, that it will be used of God to build community and be a place where people feel loved and accepted.
This weekend my whole family was over to celebrate my dad's birthday and father's day, and I realized I need more chairs. Good thing I have a piano bench! How cool to have them all filled!
I'm also thankful that Rach is living with me, even if it's only temporary. I've missed having a roommate, and although we don't see each other super often, it is nice to share this space with someone. I also appreciate our conversations together, and cooking together, and worshipping together
Today after church and after lunch I decided to do a bit of gardening and that it could not wait. My housewarming/open house is next weekend, and it would be good if the backyard looked less haggard. So, before I allowed myself a Sunday afternoon nap, and before the threatening rain came through on its promises, I did a bit of work on the garden with the sweet musical stylings of the Vespers tickling my ears. Rach started laughing at me, and I had to chuckle too, at what a strange sight I must have been.
There are so many things for which I am thankful.
A little while ago in a staff meeting, John mentioned something about not using the words "thank you" in prayer. It has enriched my prayer life to instead use words like, "God, you are so awesome in the ways that you..."
It reminds me that although I am thankful, it is because of who God is. It is good to be reminded of his character, and take those moments of thankfulness as opportunities to know God more. It's pretty incredible how God can take an off-hand remark and use it to help me know and appreciate him in new ways. I am so incredibly blessed.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
.may.
Well, it's almost the end of May and I haven't had a spare second to catch up my blog. What a crazy month this has been!
God is so good. I have been in awe of his work in the lives of my students, and so honoured to be a part of it.
I'm moved into my new place and getting settled and Rachel just moved in this week. I'm excited to have a roommate again, even if it's only short-term. Who knows? Maybe she'll buy the place next door...
God is so good. I have been in awe of his work in the lives of my students, and so honoured to be a part of it.
I'm moved into my new place and getting settled and Rachel just moved in this week. I'm excited to have a roommate again, even if it's only short-term. Who knows? Maybe she'll buy the place next door...
Sunday, April 22, 2012
.home.
It's a little ironic, but today I finally feel at home in St. Catharines. And the reason why, is because I finally know a homeless person's name.
I met Brian this afternoon because he was asking for some food, so we walked across the street to The Fine Grind where I bought him a grilled cheese sandwich. I'm not sure what else to do for him...I'm not very familiar with the shelters in the area. He said the Salvation Army is full and he's not allowed back to Southridge for another week. But it's supposed to be cold for the next few days --maybe even some snow. I hope that he's ok.
Monday, April 09, 2012
.letters from the ledge.
At the beginning of this year, I read a book called "Letters from the Ledge" by Lynda Meyers. For me, it was a long time coming, because I'd read a rough draft of the first few chapters back in 2006 or 2007 and I was immediately hooked. But it was definitely worth the wait.
In short order, I came to know the characters as my friends, to experience their lives alongside them. The story is compelling because it doesn't gloss over pain, pretending that everything is ok when it's not, nor does it dive into darkness that is overwhelmingly depressing. The pain is present, but so is the hope and healing.
Here's a brief glimpse at the story:
High above Manhattan, Brendan walks the ledge.
Night after night he stands with his arms outstretched, ready to fly away.
Sarah can see him from her window.
Paige can see them both from her fire escape.
None of them know they’re being watched each night by the others.
But everyone has a story to tell.
Still reeling from the suicide of his best friend Tess, seventeen-year old Brendan struggles to overcome addiction and identity issues. Walking the ledge outside his Manhattan apartment has become its own sort of drug, as he stands night after night with his arms outstretched, ready to fly away. Sarah can see him from her window, and begins journaling about a boy on a ledge. Paige and Nate, a young couple in another building, can see both teens from their fire escape. None of them know the others are watching, but a strong desire for freedom resides in each of them, and as their lives begin to intertwine, that desire will be tested. Anyone can jump, but not everyone can fly...
Sharp, humorous, and deeply layered, this chronicle of a suicidal teen’s survival explores the reality of addiction and other tough issues, but does so easily, through the use of multiple perspectives, intelligent dialogue and authentic characters. Equal parts romance, contemporary drama, and coming of age, this highly engaging and intensely beautiful novel challenges our cultural perceptions in the battle for balance.
Here's a small taste of the prologue:
"When I was a kid I used to dream about being a pilot. I had a bunch of model airplanes and I would fly them off our balcony, then ride the elevator down and try to find them. Of course they were never there, so I figured once they left the balcony they must have become real airplanes–Pinocchio style. I know better now, but there’s a part of me that still wants to believe in miracles. When you make the leap, can you really become what everyone else says you can’t?" - Brendan
This book brought up, for me, the theme of hope. Sometimes it's easier to hope than others. Sometimes life becomes overwhelming and it's hard to see the possibility of hope. But one of the things I appreciated the most about "Letters from the Ledge" is that no character is beyond hope (even Brendan's dad, who is still a villain at the end of the book).
Every character in the story has painful experiences that have shaped them, and that they still have to deal with. None of them are "there;" none of them are fully healed and restored. But their journeys are so beautiful. It is such a privilege to get to be part of their stories for even a short time. It is remarkable how much they are able to help each other and bring healing to each other's wounds, simply by allowing their lives to intertwine, and to take the risk of caring for another. By shifting their focus from themselves and their own pain, they begin to help another, and experience unexpected healing in return.
I think Lynda has shown so beautifully how God works in us. He uses others to meet us in our pain so we realize we're not alone. Even though all our stories are different, and all our wounds are shaped differently, we all have the capacity to show empathy and care, and by exercising this gift, we are blessed in return.
Every once in a while, I am tempted to give up hope for someone. A circumstance seems so big and ugly and overwhelming, and it's hard to find that glimmer of hope. But I am reminded often that God is in the healing business, and we have every reason to hope.
Because Easter was this weekend, it's a bit fresher in my mind. Christ suffered. He died, so that we could live. So that we could have hope and healing. And by his death and resurrection, there is no more despair. And because he suffered, we can be comforted in knowing that God does understand pain, has experienced more excruciating pain than we could imagine, and we can rest in the hope and power of God who sustains us.
So, every time a situation seems so black and dark and hopeless that no resolution would ever be possible, as it seemed for Brendan and Paige at times, it is good to be reminded that this is not the end. God can make beauty out of ashes, and broken and despised things into the most glorious, beautiful hope of all.
In short order, I came to know the characters as my friends, to experience their lives alongside them. The story is compelling because it doesn't gloss over pain, pretending that everything is ok when it's not, nor does it dive into darkness that is overwhelmingly depressing. The pain is present, but so is the hope and healing.
Here's a brief glimpse at the story:
High above Manhattan, Brendan walks the ledge.
Night after night he stands with his arms outstretched, ready to fly away.
Sarah can see him from her window.
Paige can see them both from her fire escape.
None of them know they’re being watched each night by the others.
But everyone has a story to tell.
Still reeling from the suicide of his best friend Tess, seventeen-year old Brendan struggles to overcome addiction and identity issues. Walking the ledge outside his Manhattan apartment has become its own sort of drug, as he stands night after night with his arms outstretched, ready to fly away. Sarah can see him from her window, and begins journaling about a boy on a ledge. Paige and Nate, a young couple in another building, can see both teens from their fire escape. None of them know the others are watching, but a strong desire for freedom resides in each of them, and as their lives begin to intertwine, that desire will be tested. Anyone can jump, but not everyone can fly...
Sharp, humorous, and deeply layered, this chronicle of a suicidal teen’s survival explores the reality of addiction and other tough issues, but does so easily, through the use of multiple perspectives, intelligent dialogue and authentic characters. Equal parts romance, contemporary drama, and coming of age, this highly engaging and intensely beautiful novel challenges our cultural perceptions in the battle for balance.
Here's a small taste of the prologue:
"When I was a kid I used to dream about being a pilot. I had a bunch of model airplanes and I would fly them off our balcony, then ride the elevator down and try to find them. Of course they were never there, so I figured once they left the balcony they must have become real airplanes–Pinocchio style. I know better now, but there’s a part of me that still wants to believe in miracles. When you make the leap, can you really become what everyone else says you can’t?" - Brendan
This book brought up, for me, the theme of hope. Sometimes it's easier to hope than others. Sometimes life becomes overwhelming and it's hard to see the possibility of hope. But one of the things I appreciated the most about "Letters from the Ledge" is that no character is beyond hope (even Brendan's dad, who is still a villain at the end of the book).
Every character in the story has painful experiences that have shaped them, and that they still have to deal with. None of them are "there;" none of them are fully healed and restored. But their journeys are so beautiful. It is such a privilege to get to be part of their stories for even a short time. It is remarkable how much they are able to help each other and bring healing to each other's wounds, simply by allowing their lives to intertwine, and to take the risk of caring for another. By shifting their focus from themselves and their own pain, they begin to help another, and experience unexpected healing in return.
I think Lynda has shown so beautifully how God works in us. He uses others to meet us in our pain so we realize we're not alone. Even though all our stories are different, and all our wounds are shaped differently, we all have the capacity to show empathy and care, and by exercising this gift, we are blessed in return.
Every once in a while, I am tempted to give up hope for someone. A circumstance seems so big and ugly and overwhelming, and it's hard to find that glimmer of hope. But I am reminded often that God is in the healing business, and we have every reason to hope.
Because Easter was this weekend, it's a bit fresher in my mind. Christ suffered. He died, so that we could live. So that we could have hope and healing. And by his death and resurrection, there is no more despair. And because he suffered, we can be comforted in knowing that God does understand pain, has experienced more excruciating pain than we could imagine, and we can rest in the hope and power of God who sustains us.
So, every time a situation seems so black and dark and hopeless that no resolution would ever be possible, as it seemed for Brendan and Paige at times, it is good to be reminded that this is not the end. God can make beauty out of ashes, and broken and despised things into the most glorious, beautiful hope of all.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
.writing.
I've been woefully neglectful of this blog...for years, really. Averaging a blog a month is pretty pathetic.
But, I've been doing some other writing recently! John and I wrote a story together for 4 weeks of chapels, and it was so fun. I'm feeling inspired to write more, but I'm not sure how much I'll feature on my blog. I guess we'll see how it goes!
But, I've been doing some other writing recently! John and I wrote a story together for 4 weeks of chapels, and it was so fun. I'm feeling inspired to write more, but I'm not sure how much I'll feature on my blog. I guess we'll see how it goes!
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
.leap day.
Wow, February FLEW by! And there's even an extra day...
Overall: good month.
I became an aunt.
And Roz had a fabulous birthday party!
Plus, we finished 2nd season of Downton Abbey. Love.
Overall: good month.
I became an aunt.
And Roz had a fabulous birthday party!
Plus, we finished 2nd season of Downton Abbey. Love.
Saturday, January 07, 2012
.NYC.
Since I am blessed to have 2 weeks off at Christmas, I decided to head to New York for a few days.
It was a really quick trip, but I did get to do everything I wanted to, for this trip anyway.
I took the train there, which was both affordable and pleasant! I love train travel and wish we had a better train system in North America.
Anyways, I arrived and took the subway to my hostel. After settling in, I went to the Rockefeller Centre. I got some great shots of the city at Top of the Rock, and the sun just began to lower, so the dusky light was gorgeous. It was freezing cold and windy, but totally worth it.
Then I met up with Beth at Times Square, and we walked around, grabbed Starbucks, caught up, and then met Collin for sushi. It was so fun catching up with them both and hearing what God is doing, even in the midst of our questions and doubts.
I spent most of the next day at MoMA. Love.
Then I walked around Central Park, grabbed some tea at a little shop, and went to a Broadway show.
Harry Connick Jr. can sing. He can't really dance. The show (On a Clear Day You Can See Forever) was still fantastic, though. Jessie Mueller was amazing. Amazing.
And that was it...a quick trip, but a lot of fun.
It was a really quick trip, but I did get to do everything I wanted to, for this trip anyway.
I took the train there, which was both affordable and pleasant! I love train travel and wish we had a better train system in North America.
Anyways, I arrived and took the subway to my hostel. After settling in, I went to the Rockefeller Centre. I got some great shots of the city at Top of the Rock, and the sun just began to lower, so the dusky light was gorgeous. It was freezing cold and windy, but totally worth it.
Then I met up with Beth at Times Square, and we walked around, grabbed Starbucks, caught up, and then met Collin for sushi. It was so fun catching up with them both and hearing what God is doing, even in the midst of our questions and doubts.
I spent most of the next day at MoMA. Love.
Then I walked around Central Park, grabbed some tea at a little shop, and went to a Broadway show.
Harry Connick Jr. can sing. He can't really dance. The show (On a Clear Day You Can See Forever) was still fantastic, though. Jessie Mueller was amazing. Amazing.
And that was it...a quick trip, but a lot of fun.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
.Christmas Eve reflections.
It's Christmas Eve, and earlier this evening I found myself reflecting on Jesus' birth. Not really a big surprise, given the day.
But I started thinking about what it was like for Mary and Joseph. A census had forced them to go to their ancestral city of Bethlehem, which means that all their relatives would also be heading that way. "No room in the inn" may have actually been "no room in a relative's home" as they were shunned by their families.
How terrifying would it have been for these young teenagers to become strangers and outcasts, stuck in a stable or cave with animals.
And then Mary goes into labour. Joseph must have been freaking out, but probably tried to stay calm for Mary's benefit. I'm sure neither of them really had a clue what they were doing, but somehow, God was with them assisting in the birth of his son. Pretty awesome.
I think a lot of people can be lonely at Christmastime. Maybe they're reminded of estranged family members or of losses, but I hope that they can find comfort in knowing that Jesus came into the world as part of an estranged family who had lost a lot of relationships. God was there in the midst of their pain, and he walks with us in ours too.
But I started thinking about what it was like for Mary and Joseph. A census had forced them to go to their ancestral city of Bethlehem, which means that all their relatives would also be heading that way. "No room in the inn" may have actually been "no room in a relative's home" as they were shunned by their families.
How terrifying would it have been for these young teenagers to become strangers and outcasts, stuck in a stable or cave with animals.
And then Mary goes into labour. Joseph must have been freaking out, but probably tried to stay calm for Mary's benefit. I'm sure neither of them really had a clue what they were doing, but somehow, God was with them assisting in the birth of his son. Pretty awesome.
I think a lot of people can be lonely at Christmastime. Maybe they're reminded of estranged family members or of losses, but I hope that they can find comfort in knowing that Jesus came into the world as part of an estranged family who had lost a lot of relationships. God was there in the midst of their pain, and he walks with us in ours too.
Monday, December 19, 2011
.friends.
I'm really thankful for my friends. It's hard to move to a new city and find community. I don't have a ton of friends here yet, but I do have a few really great ones. I'm blessed.
But, I miss having guy friends.
At a certain point it seems that we've been trained to think "why bother?" when it comes to being friends with someone who might be a potential spouse. It's like we flirt, maybe go out once or twice, decide yes or no, and we're done with it (if it's a no).
But what if I'm chatting with you and want to get to know you because I think you're interesting, but I don't really want to date you? What if I actually want to be friends? But we don't really make time for that. And it makes me sad. I think we're all probably missing out on some beautiful friendships.
I don't want my life to be less full because I'm missing out on potential friendships. And, I want to be able to have a great conversation with someone without anyone questioning my motives or interpreting my friendliness as something more.
I guess I just don't want to put pressure on potential friendships that's completely unnecessary. I enjoy meeting new people and getting to know them, and it'd be nice to be able to do that without wondering "what if?"
Mostly, I guess I'd just like to build more of a community here. More well-rounded. People of different age groups and genders. I think we all have so much to offer each other, and maybe it's selfish of me, but I want to experience that. Actually, I don't think it's selfish. I think it's how we were created to be.
It just takes some risk; but what a beautiful risk it could be.
But, I miss having guy friends.
At a certain point it seems that we've been trained to think "why bother?" when it comes to being friends with someone who might be a potential spouse. It's like we flirt, maybe go out once or twice, decide yes or no, and we're done with it (if it's a no).
But what if I'm chatting with you and want to get to know you because I think you're interesting, but I don't really want to date you? What if I actually want to be friends? But we don't really make time for that. And it makes me sad. I think we're all probably missing out on some beautiful friendships.
I don't want my life to be less full because I'm missing out on potential friendships. And, I want to be able to have a great conversation with someone without anyone questioning my motives or interpreting my friendliness as something more.
I guess I just don't want to put pressure on potential friendships that's completely unnecessary. I enjoy meeting new people and getting to know them, and it'd be nice to be able to do that without wondering "what if?"
Mostly, I guess I'd just like to build more of a community here. More well-rounded. People of different age groups and genders. I think we all have so much to offer each other, and maybe it's selfish of me, but I want to experience that. Actually, I don't think it's selfish. I think it's how we were created to be.
It just takes some risk; but what a beautiful risk it could be.
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