Sunday Reflection: Asking for help

Today's reflection is brought to you by   

Michael Angelo Immenraet's 
Jesus and the Woman of Canaan
(17th century)

Matthew 15:21-28.

This is the reflection I shared with my friends at Sanctuary of Peace this morning.

If you’ve ever seen someone having a seizure, you know it can be a very scary thing. In Jesus’ time, people thought that seizures were a sign of demon possession, but now we know they signify uncontrollable electrical impulses in someone’s brain, sometimes requiring medication. Someone I love experiences seizures. 

So I can really relate to the woman in today’s story. She feels panicky and scared because she can't explain her daughter's health situation, and is afraid she might die. (I know what that’s like.) The only difference between me and that woman is that medical interventions didn’t exist in those days and only a local healer named Jesus could help her. So she’s crying and begging for help, loudly! (I’ve been there, too in my worries for my loved one, praying, "Please. Please. Please!") 

And Jesus? He’s just had a big argument with the religious leaders of his own faith and he probably wants a break from people, period. Have you ever felt like that? So in his fully human nature, he doesn’t answer right away, and his followers take his silence for a “No.” They ask him to send the noisy woman away. They know that since she’s from the area around Tyre and Sidon, she’s probably not Jewish, and so they decide that she’s not someone he should be concerned about. 

For a moment, Jesus seems to agree, saying he’s only come for the sake of the lost sheep among his own Jewish people, but in his fully divine nature, he doesn’t send her away. And the woman changes her approach and comes and quietly kneels at Jesus’ feet. Though she knows she’s not one of the people he's been concerning himself with, that she's not one who would sit at his table, she knows that she deserves Jesus’ attention just as much as anybody else. And somehow, she also knows he can heal her daughter, so she’s looking to be included in his care, and she’s not going to take no for an answer. I like that about her!

And Jesus does, too. It's clear that she’s smart, and desperate enough to be a little bit sassy. She speaks her truth, catching Jesus’ attention by using the same supper image that he uses, asking him for the crumbs from the table he's setting for his people, reminding him that though she's not one of them, she deserves his mercy, his care. And though the human Jesus might be tired of arguments, his divine self knows that she’s right and she does deserve his care just as much as the lost sheep religious leaders he was arguing with – because she has absolute faith in him. He praises her faith and heals her daughter immediately. 

So where does this story leave you and me? 

We all have times and places in our lives when we feel panicky and scared, or just plain worn down and frustrated, and we need help. Today’s gospel shows us that whenever someone speaks truth clearly and from their heart, they are heard, no matter who they are. For us, that can be tough to do when we’re anxious or fearful, but if we take a few deep breaths and soften our speech instead of shouting, we’re going in the right direction. 

But even if we’re so desperate that we're loud about what we need, Creator can handle it. We come just as we are, we tell God what’s going on, and God listens – and loves and includes and cares for us all without judgment. I’m quite sure that we judge ourselves -- I know I judge myself -- more than Creator ever will. 

So, just as we are, let’s go meet Jesus as he walks through the countryside near Tyre and Sidon. 

Sit straight in your chair and take a deep breath in… and let it out slowly and quietly. 

Set your feet on the floor and lower your shoulders. Relax and breathe normally, in and out. 

Imagine that you are high on a grassy hill, walking with Jesus on a path wide enough for two. 

The sun is warm, and you can smell good earthy, grassy smells. 

There are patches of wildflowers that catch your eye, and your can hear bees going about their work, and see butterflies floating from flower to flower. 

Jesus picks a piece of grass and chews on the sweet white root end of the stem, and you do the same. 

As you walk, Jesus asks you how your summer has been. How has it been? 

Jesus really wants to know what’s going on with you. He rests his hand on your shoulder as you walk, and the love in his eyes says that you can be who you are and can say anything, and he will listen and love you no matter what. 

Is there something that is worrying you right now? Tell him about your concerns and give them into his care. Take a few moments of silence with him...

He smiles and says that anytime you talk with him you are offering a prayer, and that when the time is right, your prayers will be answered one way or another. He invites you to come and talk with him anytime, day or night. 

Before you come back to this space, let Jesus know you appreciate him with a smile, a hug, a fist bump – whatever works best for you. 

And let’s pray together: 

We thank you, God, for the way you always listen to us, day or night. 

We offer you all our cares and concerns, knowing that you don’t want us to suffer or feel anxious, but to trust in you and the help you send through the people around us. 

Help us to place our lives in your care, and to speak our truth – to ask for help when we need it, and to help others when we can. 

Let us be like the Canaanite woman, knowing that you will include us, and unafraid to ask until we receive your help.

Let us be like you, welcoming and including everyone in our love.

Bless us and keep us close to your heart always. 

+Amen

Cornelia makes a comeback -- and July's garden report

Last year, Cornelia the scarecrow was nowhere to be found in my garden. I can't recall why she wasn't there -- perhaps she sent her regrets for the summer season and I missed the memo. But she's back this year in a new (old) dress, and doing a fine job of watching over the snow peas, mostly, convincing the birds that other scarecrow-free gardens might be a better place to spend their time.

It started out as a strange garden year because we've had more rain than we know what to do with. This means that my roses have never been so happy. 

But vegetable-wise, it's been a slow start with a cooler than usual spring. My dozen broccoli plants have managed to produce a single, solitary floret. The snap peas are three feet high with hardly a blossom, and they're usually producing by now. The peppers have shivered and dropped their leaves for the most part, and I'm not sure the cucumber plants will ever get to the point of producing, as they're very small. The tomatoes are also in the process of deciding how much they might fruit. Not much thus far.

But I've already made this year's garlic scape pesto. I picked a goodly amount of haskap berries, and there will be lots of raspberries, it seems. My tobacco plants (for ceremonial purposes) are bigger than September's of last year, and the beans, beets, carrots, corn, lettuces and squashes may yet surprise me if the storms don't get any wilder than they've already been. See for yourself in the images below. And if you're in my neck of the woods, stop by for a garden visit! Coffee or other beverage of your choice, anytime!

Come to a concert!

I know, this is not your usual Sunday Reflection, but I can't help it!

We at Sanctuary of Peace are very excited about the Musicians for Canada Concert on Wednesday this week! A line up of wonderful Alberta musicians are putting on a show at the Hawrylak Park Amphitheatre on July 22 from 3-10 p.m., a mini folk music festival -- if you want to call it that.

I love some of these musicians, but in particular, P. J. Perry, who came to visit us one Sunday morning at Sanctuary. P.J. is a very kind man (besides being a saxophonist par excellence) and he's been part of the Edmonton Jazz music scene for many years. He spent a morning with us to learn about Sanctuary of Peace because we are one of three organizations among whom all the proceeds of this show will be split. That means our street outreach and lunch provision for folks in the heart of Edmonton will receive special support this year in the form of awareness raising, not to mention a few extra funds.

So if you're looking for some fun in the form of some great music, please join us this Wednesday. Tickets are available on Eventbrite, or by clicking here.

I'll be at the concert -- hope to see many friends there!

Sunday reflection: It's not about my "soil conditions"

This reflection is brought to you by 

Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23.

I give thanks for the Sanctuary of Peace community, made up of homeless and low income friends who have given me a whole new appreciation for the Parable of the Sower, today's Gospel reading. 

It's not unusual for them to wake me up to Jesus' stories in ways that I've never considered before. Here's the reading and reflection I will share with them this morning...

That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat by the lake.  Such large crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat in it, while all the people stood on the shore.  Then he told them many things in parables, saying: “A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root. Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants. Still other seed fell on good soil, where it produced a crop—a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown. Whoever has ears, let them hear.” 

“Listen then to what the parable of the sower means: When anyone hears the message about the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in their heart. This is the seed sown along the path. The seed falling on rocky ground refers to someone who hears the word and at once receives it with joy. But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful. But the seed falling on good soil refers to someone who hears the word and understands it. This is the one who produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.”

New International Version (NIV)

* * * * * * *

I love it when Jesus tells stories… but it took me until now to really appreciate this one. Maybe that’s because, too many times, I’ve heard these words like they are a judgment against me. Like maybe Jesus is saying that the soil of my heart is too hardpacked, too rocky, too shallow, or otherwise unable to accept and allow Creator’s goodness to take root in my life. Or maybe he’s saying I should be 'the seed that falls on good ground' and produces 100-fold, no less, like the psalm response we just sang together. 

Maybe I hear Jesus' words that way because our North American culture conditions us to think we have to be MORE – and to judge ourselves when we fall short. But this time around, it dawned on me that Jesus isn’t judging me. He’s telling me that Creator is a good farmer who casts seeds of God’s love around wildly and abundantly and right into our hearts without asking us about our “soil conditions.” God says we are ENOUGH as is. 

That’s right. Creator loves us as we are. If our soil is trampled too hard to receive love because too many people have walked on us and stolen our faith in God’s goodness, God knows it’s not our fault. If our ground is rocky because we’ve had to protect our hearts from too many hurts, or our faith is shallow because we’ve never had the chance to develop trust, God knows it’s not our fault. Creator’s love for us doesn’t depend on how well we are able to receive it. It overflows on us, because that’s who God is. God is love. Unconditional and forever. For you. For me. 

And Creator sees the long view, too. Just because my soil is hard or rocky or shallow or depleted right now, God knows those qualities aren’t a life sentence for you or me. Soil can be amended. We can change. Like the farmers of Jesus’ time, God throws seed around without fretting about where it lands or how well it produces, then turns over the whole field, whether it's packed down or rocky or whatever. God rejoices in the harvest however it comes. 

And Creator knows that we’re not all cut out to yield a hundred percent! In the past weeks when my dad was dying, even one percent felt like a lot. It’s a comfort to know that The Sower is pleased with whatever I can muster. There’s a lovely passage in the writings of Isaiah that says, “a bruised stem he will not break and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.” (Is 42:3.) Meaning that our good God sees our struggles and cares for us when we are bruised or when our light is barely shining. 

No matter how we are when we come to God, as we listen to Jesus’ story today, the important thing is that the One who made us loves us, just as we are, and wants only the best for us. God doesn’t expect us to always be strong, courageous, faithful, and on top of things. Creator just wants to love us, and invite us to be open to love and healing, as we are able. If we can be ourselves and turn toward God even when we have almost nothing left to give, and put our lives into Creator’s hands, we are pleasing to God. 

For now, let’s rest in Creator’s unconditional love for us. 

 I invite you to straighten your back and get as comfortable as possible in your chair. 

Put your feet on the floor, relax your body, and close your eyes if you can. 

Breathe in and out slowly, quietly and gently. 

Open your mind and heart as wide as you can. 

Imagine yourself as a small seedling, growing up from the soil. 

Feel Creator’s gentle rains as they wash over you. 

Pay attention to Creator’s sun warming you through and encouraging you to grow. 

Stretch toward Creator’s moon as it shines on you from the darkness of the night. 

The shadow of the One who made you, the good gardener, falls on you. 

God gets down on her knees to press good soil around you. 

Smiling, God tells you that he wants only what is best for you. 

Creator says that you belong and are beloved, just as you are, and that the goodness of creation would not be complete without you being part of it.

Seeing love in your God’s eyes, what do you want to say? 

Share your thoughts and feelings now for a few moments....

Let's pray together:

Creator, 
You know me better than I know myself. 
You don’t judge me by human standards – you simply scatter seeds of your love in and around me, abundantly, all the time. 
Thank you for creating me, for loving me, for accepting me as I am. 
Help me to be as you want me to be. 
Help me to put my life in your hands so I can grow in the way that is best in your eyes. 
Show me your way and help me to share your love with others. 
Your love and your grace are enough for me. 
Thank you for listening when I pray, and for answering me in your good time. 

+Amen

Postscript:

When I saw Chad at our Tuesday Table Time outreach two weeks ago, he asked me when I would preach next, and I told him, July 12th. "Looking forward to it," he said. So I wrote this reflection with Chad in my mind's eye.

But this morning, just before our service was to start, Pastor Quinn came to tell me he'd just learned that Chad died of drug poisoning. Chad, sweet Chad, heard this reflection from God's house, and knows, even better than I do, the truth of its words.

Now I don't need to remind you that God loves you, Chad. Rest in peace, my friend.

Dad finds his way home

It's been hard to pick up these moodlings for the past month because I couldn't imagine how to write about my beloved dad, a man who preferred understatement. He didn't want a eulogy! But on the weekend, I met a friend who follows my moodlings and who didn't know that my dad had died. I realized that maybe there are a few other readers wondering about him, and that I shouldn't put it off any longer, even though I'll cry the whole time I write.

Just before midnight on June 16th, my dad's run to the finish line ended. The damage from a serious stroke on May 25th was more than his body could take, though he tried his best to make a comeback. No question, he "ran the good race." His sense of humour and his appreciation for his caregivers in IMCU Unit 41 never left him. We all spent time with him the day he died, and I am so grateful that I had the chance to tell him that I loved him, that everyone loved him, that afternoon. None of us expected him to cross the finish line that evening, so just two of us were with him. 

Dad, just over a year ago

It was raining when he died, and it didn't stop raining for two days. On the way from the hospital to Mom's after he left us, we decided to have a toast to Dad. And wouldn't you know it, he left me just enough of his last bottle of Glenlivet 14-year-old Scotch Whiskey to drink a toast to his face-to-face meeting with God. 

The ten days between his death and his Celebration of Life (yes, it was definitely a celebration) were a whirlwind even though he did a lot of the legwork for us. He chose his own songs and readings, and wrote a brief memoir that helped us to compose an obituary (click here to read it). It's a eulogy that none of his three daughters would be able choke out, but his brother and sister did well in improving and delivering it. 

People came from far and wide and everything came together really beautifully on June 26th. The sun even shone, though rain was forecast (with quite a thunderstorm that night). I'm full of gratitude for all who were present, and feel a lump in my throat whenever I think about the full church, the many hugs, and how those who gathered sang (with gusto) all the songs Dad had chosen for his send-off. "Trust in the Lord, you shall not tire..."

If you've been following these moodlings for a bit, you might remember that my word for 2026 is "wonder." And there has been an abundance of wonder in me since Dad's stroke, mostly at how people were with us so gently as we "walked our dad home." It's a list of wonders too long to moodle here, though it's all in my journal from the past month. 

And there are many wonders before that, in so many memories: 

Singing in the car together on long trips when we were kids, learning to hold the melody when Dad sang harmony, and finally asking him, "How do you do harmony like that, Dad?" "Try singing other notes and listen for the ones that sound good. You'll get it."

All the conversations while he drove us to and from activities. Working for him, our first boss, at Universal Church Supplies, and growing up surrounded by music, books, and other "churchy stuff." Enjoying family time with our big extended family, often with homemade music.

Frisbee, tennis, badminton. Bike rides. Ball games. His immediate forgiveness of my fiance when he slid into second and broke my dad's wrist. His welcome of my husband into a family that had been made up of him and four women. Singing with Dad's good tenor voice in our family music group.

Camping with Dad in Radium Hot Springs for many years running, us kids, and eventually his grandkids, all golfing together at Edgewater one summer. He welcomed everyone's friends, and had a way of making strangers feel seen and less strange, a way of sidling up to people to make them smile with a side-hug and his attention.

Covid's regular family video check-ins (now a habit that continues this long after the epidemic) with Dad cracking us all up with his often "unfiltered" observations about various things. 

The confidence he placed in his kids as we learned and grew and found our way in the world, his willingness to help us out in so many different ways, his joy in our successes and his prayers in our times of struggle. His love and daily prayers for his grandkids.

But what probably stands out most for me is his love for Mom. I can't think of another marriage as good as theirs. Did they ever fight in their 60+ years together? I can't recall even once. Every time I was alone with Dad in hospital, he asked for her, and lit up when she walked in. The solidity of their relationship gave us all a good grounding in life and multiplied Dad's capacity to love, so that many people felt its ripple effects -- as evidenced by the crowd at his final celebration. The church was so full of the community he gathered around him, a holy thing.

There's much more I could write, but Dad would be embarrassed by this much. He preferred less fuss.

But Dad, I am so, so grateful for all that you were and for all the love you gave to those of us who love you, and other people besides. I am grateful to know that you're in the communion of saints, watching out for us and praying us home, to be with you one day. We will sing together again...

But until then, I will always love and miss you. And that's an understatement.

Monday Music Appreciation #70 -- A song for Dad

My dad had a minor stroke on my birthday, and surgery to try to prevent a larger stroke wasn't as successful as hoped. He's been in hospital for the past 16 days, resting and recovering. Prayers and healing vibes sent his way are appreciated. 

I spent this afternoon with him, and shared the song below with him... one earbud for him and one for me. It also happens to be a song we sing pretty well every Sunday morning at Sanctuary of Peace, just before we start our service. I've been wanting to share it with Dad for a while because I know he'd love all the harmonies and sing one himself. 

Here's the song for you to enjoy, too. 

Monday Music Appreciation #69 -- Gabriel's Oboe

I'm grateful to see the arrival of a new month, as May was possibly the most non-stop month I've ever known. As I ran from one thing to the next, I found myself wondering if I should just shut down these Simple Moodlings entirely, as I so rarely find the time to sit at my computer unless I have to type something up for work-related activities.

But something in me keeps coming back to Socrates' saying, "the unexamined life is not worth living," and all the moments that I've examined from my life in this space. I've been telling myself that I should just make more time for my journal, but truthfully, I'm not the best at regular journaling about what's going on in my life either. (I fell three weeks behind, and it's hard to remember last week's events, never mind those of May 6th!) 

I'm under no illusion about the value of these moodlings -- they add nothing to an already clogged internet universe, and other people write about things important to me so much better than I ever will. Regardless, I feel an impulse to share... things that delight me, or challenge me, or cause me to pause in wonder, which, if you recall, is my word of the year for 2026. Lots of wonder has been happening in the last five months, though very little has been moodled here. I can't say that will change, but these moodlings will continue to appear when time and impulse allow.

What's funny is that today's Monday Music Appreciation is a replay in so many ways. I looked back through my moodlings and found that Ennio Morricone's Nella Fantasia has made two other appearances sung by two excellent singers, but this time, I'm going to the Maestro, himself, and no lyrics this time. Just the beauty of Gabriel's Oboe, which is how the melody was known from the movie soundtrack of The Mission, before it was given Italian lyrics and title.

Something this gorgeous needs no words, don't you agree?

Auntie Jo's rose

After the inurnment for my Auntie Jo on Friday, roses were passed out to those gathered, and when I arrived home from Saskatoon much later the same day, my rose, which had been caught between coats in the back seat of our car, had completely drooped. But I cut the stem and put Auntie's rose into a vase she had given me some years ago, and I am still enjoying it beside me as I write my own little tribute to a special lady.

Auntie Jo's initials were J.A.M., for Johanna Adelheid Maria, or so I learned at my cousin's house after my godmother's funeral. I bear an anglicized version of her first name as my middle name, and share her third name, grateful that her presence also remains with me in my names. She was always Auntie Jo to me, but when I wrote to her, she was Auntie Johanna.

She found her way back to her Creator on May 1st after living on earth for an amazing 94 years. The eldest daughter in a family of nine, she spent her early years looking after her six rambunctious brothers -- her two sisters arrived during her mid to late teens -- and helping her mom keep the home fires burning. As a young woman, she went off on adventures, leaving small town Saskatchewan to work in other small towns and eventually, the big city of Vancouver -- at a time when women were mostly expected to get married and have babies instead of careers.

Auntie Jo did get married after four proposals from my Uncle Scotty, a character unlike any I have ever known -- unapologetically himself, but the kind of guy who turned strangers into friends in short order. They had two kids, four grandkids, and thus far, two great-grandchildren. She met her youngest great grandchild not quite two weeks before she died, and the pictures taken were just beautiful. She was clearly thrilled with little Jacob!

Auntie Jo's life was filled with music -- she had a beautiful voice that landed her the female lead in a community version of HMS Pinafore, and throughout her life, she sang in several church choirs. She learned to play the saxophone mid-life, and became a square dancer after Uncle Scotty died. She taught my dad to dance when he was small. She was considered to be a beauty by my Auntie Barbara, who thought I look like her (I took that as a high compliment). More importantly, in spite of her own strong opinions, Auntie Jo was a good woman who loved many, many people. Even her musician friends at her funeral received that love when the priest announced, "Johanna asks that the choir be first in line for the funeral lunch"! And so it was.

Looking back on my relationship with Auntie Jo, I have always had a sense of what a special godmother she was. Whenever I visited, she introduced me to people in her life not only as her niece, but as her goddaughter -- with a pride that surprised me. She taught me macrame, and took me out for lunches. She made special trips to be at my first communion and high school graduation, decorated my wedding cake, and phoned me on every birthday (though I wasn't quite as good at remembering to phone her on her birthday). She was always at the top of my Christmas card list.

Auntie Jo's family was an integral part of my growing up. Almost every time our family visited Saskatoon, their home was our "home base," so we played together as little kids (the two youngest always being the family puppies when we played "house") and we came to know each other well as we grew up. We all went camping to Vancouver Island the summer I was thirteen, a magical trip that still holds many memories for me. We were all cheering together at the Edmonton Oilers' game the night Gretzky scored his 50th goal in 39 games (back when tickets were more affordable). Her kids are among my favourite cousins, and though we've lost touch in the busy years of raising our own families, sitting down for a good but brief catch-up with Auntie Jo's daughter after the funeral on Friday was like picking up where we left off. I wish there was more time for cousin relationships, and less distance! 

My last in-person visit with my godmother was almost two years ago, when we watched the Edmonton Oilers win a playoff game together. Since then, her granddaughter has won gold and silver medals as a Canadian Women's hockey player in her own right, and the picture below is of Auntie Jo wearing Hailey's gold. She was so very proud of all her offspring, and rightly so. 

Auntie Jo, thank you so much for your presence in my life, for your unwavering support and love, and for not only being a wonderful godmother, but a good friend. I am sure the heavenly choir sounds even better with you in it! I will miss you, especially on our birthdays...

Until we meet again... pass my greetings to everyone there with you...

Good Friday words

Pastor Quinn, my ministry partner, came down with a bad flu a week ago. He was to speak at the Edmonton Outdoor Way of the Cross yesterday, but was still feeling pretty tough. With his help to hurriedly write a reflection (he's got the gift of speaking off the cuff -- I don't), I subbed in for him.

With the help of Mike Campbell, an amazing friend from the Sanctuary of Peace Community, who proclaimed the reading from Isaiah, and our previous associate pastor, Jim Gurnett, who closed with prayer, we shared the following with those who attended the 46th Annual Outdoor Way of the Cross. 

* * * * * * *

From the 58^th chapter of Isaiah, verses 6-9:

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
    and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
    and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
    and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
    and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
    and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
    and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.

Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;

    you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

God’s words in these verses from the prophet Isaiah tell us what our fasting as God’s people should look like. Fasting is not so much about giving up chocolate or coffee for the forty days of Lent as it is about doing justice all the time – lifting oppression, breaking barriers between ourselves and others, giving from our abundance to those whose lives should be as abundant as our own, and remembering that we are all siblings in God’s family – all the time.

Early one winter morning before our Sunday Service, Pastor Quinn arrived to find a young woman huddled under a piece of cardboard, shivering because she had lost much of her clothing in a state of drugged confusion. Quinn gave her a blanket to wrap herself in, invited her inside, and turned her over to me to help her get dressed in clothing odds and ends that had been donated to us. We gave her a sweet, hot cup of coffee as soon as it was ready, a bit of food, and she stayed with us, sleeping through much of that Sunday service, finally warm.

This young woman was one of many people who live on our streets, people whose lives have not turned out as they had hoped for any number of reasons. Our affluent Alberta society expects us all to live in a certain way and be a certain kind of citizen, but the young woman on our doorstep had clearly been judged by human beings and found wanting some time before we met her. She was turned away from the kinds of assistance that would have given her the abundant life God dreams for all of us.

There are those who would say, "how and why did she end up almost naked under a piece of cardboard on a winter’s night? Clearly, she made some bad choices, going out alone, using drugs, being homeless." Some people might say that she was getting what she deserved. Keep in mind, though, that no one wants – or deserves – to live on our streets in -40 windchill. And in the heart of God, who is unconditional love, do the poor choices people make really matter? 

Not in the least. God knows the complexities of their stories, sees their hearts, and calls them beloved children. They are every bit as beloved as you and I no matter what their lives look like.

In a province and country as well off as ours, there is no excuse for anyone to be hungry, naked, or homeless. When we remember that all lives are holy and valuable to our Creator, when we share our food with the hungry and provide the poor wanderer with shelter, when we clothe the naked, and stand with the struggling people of this city whom we often forget are our own flesh and blood, our sisters and brothers, our siblings in one family -- when we remember and do these things, God’s light, healing and justice pour through us.

Ensuring that all people have enough of what they need to live in dignity and freedom is the fasting that God desires from all of us not only during Lent, but all year long.

We close with a prayer from the Iona Community:

 

Creator and Kin, as near as breath,

and yet far beyond our understanding,

holy is your name.

Your new reality come,

your justice be done, here and now.

May we feed each other, as you feed us.

You hold us in grace when we don’t ‘get it’. 

May we hold others in grace too.

May we resist complacency,

and strive for justice and peace,

for all people, and all times. 

+Amen

    you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

Sunday reflection: The woman (and man) at the well

Today's reflection is brought to you by

John 4:  4:5-30, 39-40.

This morning, I had the joy of presenting a little skit from John's Gospel along with Jesse and James. When I asked Jesse if he would play Jesus, he said, "Whoa, tall order!" But he did a great job, and James was an excellent narrator too. What follows below is the reflection I shared with our community of Sanctuary of Peace, our circle of belonging in the heart of the city of Edmonton.

* * * * * * *

There are three things I hope we can learn from this little story that James and Jesse helped me to tell, but before I get to that, a little background on it: 

The way Jesus and the woman are speaking to each other (with no one else present) is breaking a few rules of their societies. Women were expected to travel in groups. And Jews and Samaritans generally avoided each other because of a history of bad blood between their peoples. 

So we might wonder why this woman is coming to the well all alone in the hottest hours of the day. The most likely answer is that she doesn’t go to the well when other married women go in the coolness of the morning because they shame her for being a sinner because she’s had so many husbands.

And that’s the next question: why has she had so many husbands? 

There could be several reasons. Maybe the woman married men who died in accidents -- or of poor health. But more likely, in a time of arranged marriages, if a woman didn’t produce babies or her husband found her lacking in other ways, he could divorce her, or say she was unfaithful and ruin her reputation. Something to think about on this International Woman's Day.

We don’t know much about this woman's circumstances, but clearly something happened that leaves her feeling vulnerable to the judgment of others. 

So she’s very surprised when the man at the well starts talking to her. Jesus could have ignored her, and probably should have according to Jewish law, but he breaks the rules and asks for the woman's help. He’s thirsty. Her response is maybe a little annoyed and sassy: “Do I really have to remind you that you shouldn’t be talking to me?” 

But Jesus keeps the conversation going, and offers something to her. Living water sounds mysterious! And wouldn’t it be wonderful if she didn’t have to walk to the well in the heat anymore! But hey, he doesn’t even have a bucket to get his own water, she reminds him. They seem to be poking just a little bit of fun at each other. 

Until things get serious and Jesus invites her to bring her husband. Yet even though she is likely shamed by her community because of her many marriages, she somehow senses that she can tell Jesus the truth, sort of, so she does, maybe feeling a bit anxious about his response. 

Surprisingly, he tells her all about her life, remarks on her honesty and says no more about all those husbands. He’s just not interested in shaming her further. He simply invites her to a deeper relationship with God. And when she talks about God’s anointed one, the Messiah, Jesus tells her who he is, something he hasn't admitted to very many people thus far. 

Then the disciples show up. Maybe they’re surprised that Jesus is talking to the Samaritan woman, but they don’t ask questions. Why not? Maybe they know that Jesus isn’t afraid to go against the norms when it comes to leading others away from shame to healing. They've seen that his ministry is all about that. 

So, the three things we can learn from this story? 

First, Jesus loves everyone no matter what, and treats everyone with kindness and respect. He loved the woman no matter how many husbands she had. He loves you and me no matter what we might be ashamed of, and Creator wants us to be honest about our struggles and joys. God wants to hear about them whenever we pray. 

Secondly, God isn’t interested in shaming people. Maybe we grew up with a punishing god who throws thunderbolts (like I thought would happen if I swore as a little kid), but that god was just a threat to keep us in line. Our True Creator wants our honesty, and to give us good things like the living water that is eternal life. 

And thirdly, when it comes to love, Jesus bends the rules. For you, for me, for everyone because he’s all about spirit and truth and goodness and beauty for our lives. The bible is full of examples of him teaching unexpected things: Love your neighbour. Pray for your enemies. Forgive as many times as it takes. The first will be last (I like that one). The last will be first (even better). And if we’re going to become true children of Creator, we need to bend the rules, too, toward love and acceptance and service of others whether we understand them or not. 

So let’s practice these things. Let’s start our own little conversation with the man at the well. 

 

I invite you to sit as comfortably as you can. If you are able, straighten your back, put your feet solidly on the floor, take in a deep breath and let it out slowly and quietly, emptying your lungs completely. Let's do that again. 

Now, find a quiet place in your mind where Jesus is waiting for you. 

He asks how you are doing. What will you tell him? What does he say? Let your conversation with him flow. 

You can tell Jesus anything and everything. Be honest with him. See his smile, and the kindness and love in his eyes. 

When Jesus praises you for your honesty, how does that make you feel? 

Give your worries over to Jesus. Imagine him holding them gently in his hands. 

Give him your joys too.

Is there a person or a group of people in your life that is hard to love right now? Ask Jesus to help you to forgive and accept them, to bend your own rules toward love. 

Before you return to this space, thank Jesus for listening. Does he give you a hug? A fist bump? 

Let’s pray together: 

Thank you, Creator, 

for sending Jesus to teach us 

that you are all-loving and all-forgiving. 

and that your deepest desire is to free us from shame 

and satisfy our thirst for your goodness  

in all the corners of our lives. 

Help us not to judge others, 

but to treat them with respect and compassion 

that helps them to see your presence in us. 

+Amen

The song below, one I haven't heard in many years, came into my head as I was moodling just now, and I had to go looking for it. Anushka Edgard's version is simple and lovely. Though I don't know where Anushka comes from, I think she's quite young, and she certainly has a pretty voice. Enjoy.

Sharing our Sanctuary of Peace newsletter

Pastor Quinn offering necessities at
Tuesday Table Time. We are so
grateful for the donations we share --
and "little hottie" toe warmers!!

There's been a lot going on for Inner City Pastoral Ministry. In January, I took some time to work on a self-evaluation of my first year as pastoral associate, and was pretty amazed at the list of things that happened in that year. There's been lot of change for our community, which is soon to be known as Sanctuary of Peace -- once we get the name change finalized with banks, CRA and province. We're jumping through those hoops, slowly but surely.

In the meantime, we've put out a newsletter for our friends and supporters, and you can find it by clicking here if you're interested. I especially appreciate the first page, Pastor Quinn's reflection on the ecumenical aspect of what we do. I was delighted to nominate him for the ecumenism award pictured, and even happier to see him receive it. His impromptu speech when he received it, some of which comes through in his article, impressed everyone present to hear it.

Being part of the Sanctuary of Peace ministry team has been a huge blessing to me. The fourteen or so people with whom I work, and the many interfaith and interdenominational volunteers we see every week, not to mention our wonderful community members, fill me with great hope and joy. 

If you need a little dose of that and want to join me downtown on a Sunday, send me a message. I'm happy to bring a friend or two along.

Why do we need Safe Consumption Sites?

"Get rid of the safe consumption sites and just put those druggies in rehab." 

This sentiment can be found across Canada, mainly among people looking for easy answers and who have little understanding of addiction. It's been on my mind a lot lately, ever since the January 22nd memorial service held for 223 community members who died in the heart of Edmonton between March and December of 2025. 

223 vulnerable people. 

I took my guitar and sang a song for those 223 people, and by the time I sang the last note, my whole body was shaking from the sorrow and injustice of so many needless deaths.

223 sisters and brothers who died of causes related to homelessness in a wealthy province.

People who struggled just to live with trauma in a society that would rather pretend homelessness doesn't exist. People without homes, found dead on a park bench, in a stairwell, in a public washroom, on a sidewalk.

Many (but not all) of them killed by addiction to drugs laced with fentanyl or other poisons.

A better sentiment - a two meter sign like this
hung in our worship space for a time

I'm not a first responder, but whenever I go down to Sanctuary of Peace these days, I wear my naloxone/narcan kit belted to my waist because I just never know when it will be needed. 

Some of our community members use marijuana, thinking it's the most harmless substance they can have to feel happy or peaceful in spite of their homelessness, trauma, and other struggles. Unfortunately, if they buy it on the street, they don't know what else might be mixed into their dope.

Safe consumption sites, if we had more of them, would reduce the death toll that is on the rise among drug users in general. For one thing, using drugs in a SCS means that people are being monitored so that if they need medical help for a drug poisoning, they get it immediately. For another, such places are often the first opportunity for people to get help. They mean a person has second, third, fourth... well, as many chances as needed to break substance addiction. It's rarely one-and-done. It takes time.

The best time to encourage someone to get rid of any addiction is when they are hitting bottom, when they recognize that they can't stand it anymore and that it might kill them if they don't kick it. SCSs are places where health and community workers can offer people with addictions the opportunity to turn their life around. 

Through the use of methadone, suboxone, and other drugs that substitute for addictive substances and that can be reduced gradually, users can get a taste of life without addiction and seriously consider getting into rehab and supportive programs that help them stay sober. SCS counsellors can also connect people to other helpful resources to improve their life situations.

Unfortunately, it seems the average Joe/Jane doesn't know this, and there are many who think that shoving people into mandatory detox programs is the best plan, but nothing could be further from the truth. A person needs to be ready, to actually want to change their life, or their chances of rehabilitation are pretty much nil. 

Too many people pushed into detox before they are ready -- sometimes by well-meaning friends and family -- fall back into their old ways, and often end up dead of drug poisoning because they return to their addiction mistakenly thinking they need the same dosage they were on before rehab.

Better to keep people with addictions alive and safe until they are able to freely choose the road to wellness and get the wrap-around supports they need. Better to have Safe Consumption Sites.

I don't know how many of the 223 people we honoured on January 22nd were victims of addictions. Our government has stopped keeping stats, I suspect because they don't want the public to know the truth of this crisis, and they like the idea of forcing people into detox.

So I wear my naloxone kit, as do many others in the heart of Edmonton, and continue to speak out about the need for Safe Consumption Sites, housing, and other forms of care for the vulnerable among us. And maybe I'll write yet another letter...

Thanks for reading.

Sunday Reflection: You are the salt and you are the light

Today's reflection is brought to you by

Matthew 5: 13-19.

Here's the reflection I gave at our Sanctuary of Peace morning prayer service today.

* * * * * * * 

I love salt. On Friday, I baked honey whole wheat bread and almost forgot to add the salt. Fortunately, I tasted the dough and was able to fix my mistake or it would have tasted very bland. When we talk about someone as “the salt of the earth” we are saying that they are straightforward, honest, the kind of people who add zest to life. We’re paying them a compliment. 

I also love light, especially in these dark winter mornings when I get up and light a candle to pray. Light is one of Creator’s best inventions, pretty much the first thing that happens in the Bible. God says, “Let there be light!” and it happens. When we say, someone “lights up a room when they walk in,” it’s another compliment. 

But it’s not always easy to be the salt of the earth or the light of the world, is it? In our human condition, we all have days when it’s easier to snarl than smile, or to be like this:  

Suffering is part of our human existence, and when we suffer, life becomes flat and tasteless. Sometimes it’s hard work just to keep going. I’ve been there, I know. I’m guessing we all know what it’s like to want to crawl into a dark hole and stay there. That’s why I need this pep talk from Jesus every time I hear it. 

You are the salt of the earth, he says. Who me? 

You are the light of the world, he says. Not me! Not when I'm feeling like this. 

But he insists on it. And honestly, I don’t want my life to be like salt that is trampled underfoot. I don’t really want to live in a dark hole, either. If I tell myself that, I’m lying. I mean, it’s okay to sit in darkness for a while, because healing can happen when I take a break. But what I eventually need is somebody to care enough to help me out of my dark hole. 

Jesus is doing that by his encouragement here, though sometimes I also have to talk to the God-with-skin-on people that I’ve spoken about here before, so they can help me. Do you have someone like that in your life? I hope so.

Did you hear what Jesus says about the torch? He says “No one hides a torch under a basket but puts it high on a pole so all in the house can see by its light." He says, “Let your light shine so that others may see the good you do and give glory to Creator.” Jesus is reminding us that there are others around us, too, and that our light touches others when we let it shine. And those others might need our light, even when it seems dim, when we know we're not at our best. 

Following that thought, I’d like to share with you an experience that I had when I was in the darkness. I can’t exactly replicate it here, but I can invite you to use your imagination. 

Sit as tall and as comfortably as you can, feet on the floor if that works for you, and take a deep breath in, letting it out slowly and quietly. It will work best if you close your eyes, but if you’re not comfortable with that, just relax your body, and listen to my words. Let your breathing be gentle and natural.

Imagine you are sitting on a cushion on the floor in a very dark room where you can’t see anything… But you’re not afraid… the room is warm and comfortable, and you know that you're safe… 

In the darkness, you sense that there are others around you, but when you stretch out your arms, all you find is empty space... 

Suddenly, somewhere ahead, you hear a match strike and a small light blazes, then dims. It’s hard to see, but it is there… 

Focus your attention on the dim light… After a moment, you realize that it is slowly increasing just a little… 

Soon you can see the silhouettes of three people at the front of the room who each have a lit candle in front of them… and the dark shapes of others sitting on the floor around you… 

The three candle bearers remain still, but three others stand and begin moving among the group, passing something out… and soon you have an unlit candle in your hands… 

Everyone returns to their places… and after a moment of absolute stillness, the three with lit candles reach out to light someone else’s unlit candle… 

Light is passed from one to the next, and soon comes to you from a friend you recognize… 

They smile at you as you light your candle… and you smile as you pass your light to someone else… 

A gentle, clear voice says, “Rise to your feet... You are the light of the world… Lift your light high and look around you…” 

Everyone in the room raises their candles over their heads, and the room glows even more brightly…

You realize you are surrounded by your favourite people, and they’re all smiling… 

The voice says… "No one lights a candle to hide it but raises it up so that all can find their way. Let your light shine so that all can see the good you do, and give praise to God…" 

You stand in the glow of the room, surrounded by smiling faces, wondering if heaven might be like this… 

Take a moment to tell God how you are feeling… 

I invite you to gently open your eyes and return to this space, and to pray with me with some of the words from Psalm 112 as we heard it earlier: 

Help us to know you, 
O God of Wisdom. 
Help us to be salt and light in our world. 
In Your love is the power to calm the storms of our struggle and suffering.
Help us to remember that your love is in us too, for others. 
O, that we might learn to bless others selflessly, 
to be a silent blessing for all by letting our light shine for them!
Help us to know You, 
O God of Wisdom. 

+Amen

A small life lesson

Never trust a thrift store jigsaw puzzle.

2026 Word of the Year

Last year's Word of the Year, teamwork, turned out to be an excellent choice, as I experienced many opportunities to "high five" people in my life for so many things we accomplished together. Had I moodled pictures of all those moments, there would have been twice as many Simple Moodlings in 2025, and images of working with many different people, doing everything from making music, to moving a ministry, to planting/harvesting a garden, to bagging 200 lunches when no one else would... and lots more teamwork moments!

The first occurrence of this year's Word of the Year was on January 5th during my online morning meditation group. Our leader, William, posted a few paragraphs from author Richard Wagamese's book, What Comes From Spirit, and the final line hit me immediately:

I remain in slack jawed wonder at the richness in my life.

I repeated those words to the online community when the virtual floor was opened for sharing, saying how much I agreed with that sentiment. But it wasn't until my spiritual director, Ruth, (who also attends the online group) asked me about whether I had chosen my word of the year yet (she knows about my Words of the Year) that I realized WONDER is definitely the word for 2026.

Wonder at our beautiful skyline
made me take this picture 
during a dog walk!

Wonder has been following me around for weeks. I felt a sense of wonder (the noun) throughout Advent and the Christmas season at so many things: frost on a window pane, the softness of our puppy's fur, the beauty of fresh snowfall, the way my and other people's minds work, how friendships grow or wane, the thought of tulip bulbs under all that snow preparing to bloom in May, the miracle of love, the financial generosity of Sanctuary of Peace friends, and how people came together (Synagogue, Lutheran Church and chain restaurant) to make our Christmas celebration something special!

And I wonder (the verb): How our societies worldwide have become so divided, and how we can bring unity back. How we've forgotten that everything is connected, and how we can remember that what hurts or heals you also impacts me. How we rely on all of earth's ecosystems to work together and how we can work together to protect them. How truth can return to guide our world in all things, even when it might be easier to accept lies...

And I see so many wonderfull (adjective --misspelling intentional) things going on around me: Small churches bringing bag lunches and winterwear to homeless people in need. Neighbours pushing neighbours' stuck cars out of snow ruts (due to more snow falling in a week than our city usually plows in three winter months). My little cousin's hockey team advancing toward the u18 Girls' International semi-final (tomorrow) -- Go Haley, and Team Canada! The ever-increasing  daylight as we move further into this new year... and I could go on...

Do you have your own Word of the Year? For me, slack jawed wonder abounds. Perhaps this year I'll remember to post pictures more often. May wonder follow you around in 2026!

Prayer and Tai chi combined... my New Year's Resolution

New Year's Day slipped by almost two weeks ago without any sort of acknowledgement here on Simple Moodlings. I've missed at least the last three New Year's days that way, as my moodling habits have decreased quite a bit since 2019. I'll blame covid for that, ha! It changed so many things in our lives, didn't it? I know I've become less of a social butterfly and more a homebody, and really, that's okay. We all do what works best for us, and if we're lucky enough to have extra energy, for others in our circle of care, in our community.

Anyway, I usually pick a Word of the Year and skip the New Year's Resolutions, but this year, I'm doing both. I'll let you know my Word of the Year soon, I promise, but today I'm sharing my New Year's Resolution, part of which I did all through Advent, and the other part of which my achy body told me to start on January 1st.

I've been doing a fair bit of spiritual exercise with an online morning meditation group, and my quiet mornings with them and a candle in the winter darkness also inspired me to return to Pray As You Go, an online podcast created by the Jesuits in the UK, most episodes usually around a dozen minutes long. Their Advent reflections were the perfect thing for me in December

I first learned the Taoist form of Tai chi back in 2008, and have been doing it on and off ever since, enough that the 108 moves are part of my body's muscle memory. Which means that I can almost do it on autopilot. But last year, my first as pastoral associate for Sanctuary of Peace and having Remi-pup join our family, I kind of forgot about any kind of exercise other than walking and gardening. Tai chi happened only sporadically.

So after a very cold Christmas season with less exercise than usual, I realized that it might be a good plan to combine my daily Pray As You Go session with some Tai chi. Some years ago there was some sort of kerfuffel about "Christian Yoga" in fundamentalist church groups who felt that any kind of Eastern influence creeping into personal spiritual practice was a problem. But for me, the combination of gentle movement and gentle spiritual/Ignatian meditation are a perfect way to keep both body and soul in shape. They almost match in terms of how many minutes they take, and if I get mixed up in my movements, oh well, I can always back up and try again. 

So far this year, I've managed to do "my combo" every day except Sundays, when I have to be downtown early for Sanctuary of Peace service, and it's been a good thing for combatting the stiffness and achiness that seems to be my morning companion most days lately. 

Do you have a combined physical/spiritual practice in your life? How do you keep body and soul moving together in these deep winter days? I hope that you are well, and finding your own best practices to keep up your spirits in these early days of 2026. I'd love to hear about them if you're inclined to leave a comment or send an email to simplemoodler @gmail.com.

Monday Music Appreciation #68: Breathe In by Peter Mayer

There are always lots of songs floating through my head, and this one made an appearance again this morning. I've loved the music of Peter Mayer since my friend Charleen sent me Holy Now, which I suspect I've shared on Simple Moodlings at least a half dozen times. 

This one, Breathe In, is a perfect morning stretch/meditation. See if you don't agree.

Email subscribers who don't see the video can click here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJ0horvBHWc 

Enjoy!

Sunday Reflection: You are God's Beloved

 Today's reflection is brought to you by

Matthew 3:13-17 and Psalm 29.

Happy New Year, friends! It's been a busy end to the old year and start to the new, and my moodlings have been mostly in my head of late, but a few will escape the old noggin in the next few days with any luck. 

I thought I'd start 2026 with my first reflection of the year offered to the Sanctuary of Peace community this morning. It's a timeless message, one that we need to hear over and over as children of God.

* * * * * * *

Today's gospel is a story I can really relate to. We see John the Baptist, the prophet who prepared people to meet Jesus by baptizing them and inviting them to repent and change their hearts, the guy who said he was unfit to untie Jesus’s sandals. And John tells Jesus exactly what he thinks. Basically, “You’re God, and I’m supposed to baptize you? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” 

John does what I often do. That is, he second-guesses God’s plan even when Jesus, who is God, tells him what’s up. And I admit that when hard or unexpected things happen in my life, I second-guess Creator a lot, too. There have been many moments when I’ve turned to God and said, “Are you sure about this? Because I’m not sure I like your plan, and I think my idea might be better.” 

For example: when I was in High School, I came down with a weird flu bug that wouldn’t leave. Eventually, I saw my doctor and he told me that my pancreas had stopped working, that I had insulin-dependent diabetes, and that I would be injecting insulin for the rest of my life unless a cure comes. No big deal, right? Wrong.

My initial reaction was disbelief. And then I said to Creator, “Why me? What on earth are you thinking? I’m seventeen and suddenly have a chronic disease? Now it’s needles every day, check my blood sugars all the time, stop drinking Coca Cola, my favourite, and be careful about exercise?” 

My second-guessing went on for about eight years in that I was always trying to cut a different deal with Creator (“Please God, make someone invent a cure!”) or I had long periods where I tried to pretend that I didn’t have diabetes and ended up eating stuff that was bad for me, gaining 30 pounds, and feeling really rotten. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, all that stuff. 

But eventually I came to accept diabetes as part of God’s plan for me. I got used to living and eating differently. I had to be extra careful about my health when I was pregnant, sometimes taking eight shots a day, and I needed good diabetic control to raise my kids. No low blood sugars allowed when you're driving babies around!

Years later, I can see that my diabetes is actually a gift to me -- and my family. I had to cook healthy meals, and my kids are mostly healthy eaters because of it. I learned to balance diet, exercise, and rest in a good way. And I know I could have ended up with bigger health issues than diabetes. Creator’s plan for me hasn’t been so bad after all. 

Creator’s plan for all of us is good, though it might not seem like it sometimes because we can’t see God’s Big Picture. Maybe some troublesome thing that happens today will change our lives for the better somewhere down the road. 

Did you notice the words of Psalm 29? To recap: Creator will bless all people with peace. She is power and love. His compassion breaks oppression and injustice. They want us to dance in freedom and exuberance like the young bulls of Mount Hebron, kicking up our heels. God wants to strike love into our hearts and strip away our untrue selves so we can live in in truth and peace! 

And how do we know these things? In today’s reading, Jesus experiences Creator’s love firsthand for all of us. As Jesus comes up out of the water, he hears God say words that God says to each one of us: “This is my child, my beloved one. I am delighted with you.” 

Creator is delighted with all their children, all of us in this space, all of us in this world. God made each one of us to reflect their face to everyone else. Even when our lives are complicated and messy, when there’s bad news, when we can’t understand why or how people can be so cruel to each other, why wars are raging, where justice is hiding, God is always in us, and delighting in us, and hoping that we notice their delight and start living like we feel that we are beloved. 

So let’s rest in our beloved-ness for a few moments right now. 

Take in a deep breath, and let it out slowly and silently… 

Sit straight but relaxed if you can, and just follow your breathing for a moment… 

Think about your heart beating gently in your chest, the heart fashioned by Creator that keeps you alive… 

Think about your hands and how they serve you… 

Think about your feet and how they carry you… 

Your body is a gift from Creator, and you are wonderfully made… 

Imagine Creator speaking these words to you: 

You are my child, my beloved one. I am delighted by you… 

I hold you in the palm of my hand. You are my child… 

I am always with you. You are my beloved one… 

I will strengthen you and help you. I am delighted by you… 

You are my child, my beloved one. I am delighted by you… 

What do you want to say to God in silent response? … Take as much time as you need...

I invite you to bring your awareness back to this room and to open your eyes. 

We give you thanks, 

Creator, 

for making each of us your child. 

Thank you for calling us your beloved. 

Thank you for the way you delight in us. 

Remind us, 

when life is difficult or when we forget, 

that you are there for us, 

that you are our strength and our help. 

Teach us to be open to your love, 

and to love as you do. 

Help us to live always knowing that we are your special children, 

to receive your love and delight, 

and to share it with those around us. 

+Amen.

Monday Music Appreciation #67: O come, O come

Yesterday was all about Joy. But this morning, I'm feeling the effects of Bondi Beach and Brown University happenings. I had thought to share something from Handel's Messiah, but this somehow seems more apropos. The beauty of the arrangement and the voices singing touches something deep in me.

The yearning for God-with-us, Emmanuel, becomes very strong when we are faced with these kinds of tragedies where innocent people die because of... what? There seems no good explanation.

 I spent a lot of time listening to this beautiful choral piece this morning. May it bring you some consolation and an impetus to push for a world without violence, where God's Wisdom reigns.

Email subscribers, please click here to listen to the video. (My apologies that I can't figure out how to make videos appear in your emails, but you can always go directly to the moodlings webpage by clicking the link at the top of the email where it says "visit https://simplemoodlings.blogspot.com/.")

Sunday Reflection: A Sunday about Joy

Today's reflection is brought to you by 

Isaiah 35 in its entirety... 

But before I spoke to the Sanctuary of Peace Community about Isaiah, Chuck, Evan and I sang a slightly adapted version of John Michael Talbot's Magnificat, Holy Is His Name:

With Edmonton’s weather as it is right now, the words of the prophet Isaiah seem like a dream, don’t they? And that’s exactly why we need these words. We’re stuck in a very cold and dark time of year, and this message is one of joy and hope. Wilderness and dry land will be glad! Even the desert will rejoice and blossom! There will be singing! 

And not only that. People who are feeling weak and feeble will be given strength. Those who live in fear and struggle will receive courage and all that they need to walk Creator’s good road. Why and how will all of this happen? It will happen because Creator will be completely in charge. Every year She gives us this season of Advent, and today, the words of Isaiah and the words of Mary, Jesus’ mom, remind us that injustice will not have the last word. He, God, is going to save us. 

 And not just us. Creator, Jesus and Spirit, they are going to save everybody else, too. We rarely consider how lonely high and mighty people who lock themselves into certain ways of thinking and being must be. Daryl Katz’s billion dollars don’t seem to be buying him or anyone else happiness, they’ve just made him hungry for more. 

But in Creator’s world, even people who are blind about everything but themselves will have their eyes opened, and their hearts will change to receive joy. 

 Those who are deaf – to the cries of the world around them – will hear, and turn toward community, and find joy in building meaningful relationships and caring for others. 

 Lameness of heart and soul for those who are greedy, unkind and selfish will be healed too, when they learn the joy of sharing and loving the way God does. 

 Imagine the joy in that, in Creator’s world, when everything that is wrong with this world is repaired, and everyone is living in harmony and peace! 

This Joy Sunday, this rose Advent candle reminds us that joy is meant to be a part of life not just in the future, but right now. Mary’s song that we just sang is a song of joy. Some people would argue that Mary didn’t have a lot to be joyful about. She lived in a time when the Roman Empire was controlling everyone’s lives, and her own life was extra challenging. Maybe part of the reason she went to visit her cousin Elizabeth was to get away from family who were cranky about her unwed mother-to-be status.

 But the words that pour out of her mouth aren’t complaint or misery. They are words of rejoicing, because Mary knows that God is good, and on her side. She is a messenger of joy! 

Mary sings that Creator’s promises extend to every single one of us, and her baby was born to help us all understand how much God loves us and wants to live in each one of us. And if we let God fill us, we can be messengers of joy, too! 

So today, let’s get in touch with the joy that Creator wants for each one of us. 

I invite you to take a deep breath in, and let it out gently and slowly. Let’s try to straighten our backs, put our feet on the floor, and let our arms and hands relax. Maybe let’s close our eyes because we are safe in this Sanctuary of Peace. 

Now, imagine that you are standing under a grey sky on the edge of barren, brown land, full of rocks and dead brush, and not a single sign of life. 

 It’s cold, and nothing moves, but you notice that the ground is wet from a fresh rain. Can you smell it? 

As you wait, the sun comes out. A warm breeze arrives and touches your cheek. 

 You look down to see a small green leaf emerge at your feet like magic, and when you raise your eyes, you realize that the landscape is changing, visibly turning green and lush. The brush that seemed dead is now putting out tiny flowers of different colours. Even the rocks seem to glisten and glow. 

 Life is suddenly everywhere, with birds singing and animals coming to drink from puddles that have formed after the rain. 

From over the hill, you hear laughter, and music. A group of people is coming along the path toward you, a lively bunch. 

 A young woman leads people of all ages and nationalities along the path. She is the happiest of them all, carrying a tambourine and leading them in a song about God’s goodness. 

 As she sings about how the blind will see, the deaf will hear, the lame will leap for joy, and old or weak ones will receive courage and strength, people in the crowd sing back joyfully, discarding their canes, hearing aids, and walkers. The celebration only increases. 

As she reaches you, the young woman invites you to join in. “Perhaps this is what heaven will look like,” she tells you, “but we can rejoice here and now because Creator loves us so much and has given us life! All shall be well.” 

Can you feel her joy? 

 Remember a moment in your life when you felt joy. 

 Take time now to give thanks for that moment. 

Is there anyone in your life who brings you joy? 

Send up a prayer of gratitude for them now. 

Can you recognize Creator in your moments of joy, and within your heart at this moment? 

Speak to God about your feelings. 

 Invite God to bring you joy in this Advent season. 

As we open our eyes and return to this space, let’s pray together: 

Creator, 

You are the source of all good things. 

Be with us, especially on this Joy Sunday. 

Help us, like Mary, to see your goodness in our lives and rejoice in it. 

Make us your messengers of joy, as she was, 

And give us hearts that remember to always be grateful. 

 Amen.