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Sunday, January 30, 2022

Sunday Reflection: Love is everything

Today's reflection is brought to you by
1 Corinthians 13: 1- 13.

O Christ,
Canada's capital city,
and to a lesser extent, 
my own home town, 
have been inundated by people insisting on 
Freedom. 

Freedom from restrictions of every kind, 
freedom from vaccines, 
freedom from certain politicians. 

The problem is that we forget
how you made it clear 
that with the freedoms we enjoy 
comes responsibility 
for the most vulnerable,
the least among us. 

You call us to the freedom 
that comes from being your beloved, 
and remind us
that everyone else is also your beloved.

You expect us to love, 
to will the good
of everyone, 
not just ourselves.

Love is patient
and kind
and we must be,
too.

Help us,
please,
help us
to look beyond our own agendas
and see to the good of all.

+Amen

Here's a lovely song that Farley sang today at Inner City Pastoral Ministry, that fits perfectly with the sermon we heard. I had never heard it before, and I love how 1 Corinthians 13:1-13 has become a poem by Timothy Dudley-Smith, which is now a song with melody by Michael Joncas... enjoy!

Thursday, January 27, 2022

A song for Debbie Mellor

Sing it with me:

Edelweiss, edelweiss,
every morning you greet me.
Small and white, clean and bright,
you look happy to meet me.
Blossom of snow, may you bloom and grow,
bloom and grow forever.
Eidelweiss, edelweiss,
bless my homeland forever.

It was Debbie's favourite song, and she sang it often. Whenever I took my guitar to Discovery Day Program at L'Arche, she requested it, and sang it, or at least its opening bars, at the top of her lungs. She loved The Sound of Music, Rogers and Hamerstein's musical/movie that brought the song to the world's attention, with a passion beyond passion! And though the consonants were missing from its songs when she sang them, it was hard to mistake what she was singing, because she could definitely carry a tune.

A week ago today, we lost Debbie -- whose pseudonym in these pages up until now has been Sandy -- to protect her privacy -- simply because Simple Moodlings is in the public domain. People like Debbie aren't often given much attention, so this is my humble attempt to pay tribute to a beautiful friend and human being. Readers who follow these moodlings know my tributes are also my way to process the loss of people I love.

I can't begin to tell you the story of Debbie's life; I'll just tell you how I know and love her. Debbie has been in my awareness for most of my life because the L'Arche community came to our church as I grew up. In fact, Debbie once came and helped me lead the singing of the closing hymn when I was doing music at mass, a special memory that still makes me smile. 

It's only in the past 12 years or so that our friendship solidified as I became a regular in the L'Arche offices through my role as admin assistant and volunteer. In that time, Debbie and I took many walks down the hallways, often holding hands because she was visually impaired and sometimes unsteady on her feet. We would sing as we went, or comment on the pictures in the hallways. Sometimes we would work -- Debbie would help me with shredding, or push the button on the photocopier as needed. She loved the photocopier. If we ran out of things to do, she liked to take scrap paper and print her name and the names of her family members over and over, pretending to be an executive at work. 

Her love for her family was constant, and in our morning prayer circle she would inevitably begin her prayers by saying "I pray my mom-MIE, my dad-DIE, my bro-THER..." When her father, and some years later, her mother, passed away, the wind went out of her sails, and though she carried on, her sadness was always evident during every prayer circle.

When I became The Baking Lady at Day Program, Debbie was in there like a dirty shirt. Not that she was ever unkempt -- her clothes and matching purses are legendary in the community, and she loved it whenever anyone commented on her attire or her fancy nail polish. When it came to baking, she loved to help measure ingredients or run the hand mixer, and especially, to eat what we made, sometimes before it was ready. I would often catch her snitching bits of cookie dough as we formed the cookies!

Debbie was part of the L'Arche Edmonton community for almost 43 years. Because I was given the opportunity to work on the History of L'Arche Edmonton, I was able to interview people from Debbie's past. My favourite stories about her demonstrate her tenacity and determination -- as one friend put it, she was an "empowered woman." She grew up in a loving farm family, and when her siblings left home to marry or go to university, Debbie decided it was her turn to leave, too, so she packed a suitcase and set it at the front door, as if to say, "My turn to go." 

Debbie's mom unpacked and put everything away, only to find the repacked suitcase at the door again a short time later. Debbie meant business, and her parents eventually decided that the L'Arche community's model of homes -- where people with and without disabilities create a family-like setting for its core members -- was the right place for their daughter to live as independently as she could.

My other favourite story from the past is about Debbie's trip to Japan in 1982. Everyone from the L'Arche community who went as part of an exchange between two communities of people with disabilities had to abide by the suitcase rule: each person could pack what they liked, but they had to be able to carry their own suitcase to the far end of their block and back without help, a very practical standard that stood the group in good stead. The group was very tired by the time they reached their destination, and unfortunately, there was a long flight of stairs to reach the main level of the Sapporo airport. Seeing the steps, Debbie put her suitcase down and gave it a good kick before she picked it up and kept moving!

Debbie’s enthusiasm for life, her constancy, and her unconditional (and sometimes conditional, when she was feeling stubborn) love moved me more than I realized until, suddenly, we have lost her too soon. Not to covid... that loving heart of hers gave out unexpectedly. I'm not sure when covid will let up and allow me to go back to visit my friends at Day Program, but I know the first return visit will be missing something important without Debbie there to welcome me with "Hi, Reea!" There's comfort in knowing how happy she is to be with her parents again in the Great Beyond, but the Day Program community is missing her terribly. Thomas* will especially miss her, I'm sure.

Debbie, my friend, given your love of music, I hope that you're singing and dancing to your heart's content with the L'Arche communion of saints and your parents. I look forward to the day we meet again, but until then, climb ev'ry mountain, my friend, and don't forget -- I love you, too. So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodnight...

Tuesday, January 25, 2022

My January garden

It's been tough lately. Lots of grey skies, and if the wind isn't so cold and blustery that Shadow and I don't feel like walking, it's sunny and icy. I've been leaving him behind a lot just to get my exercise. He turns 9 next week, and is less and less interested in walks and more and more interested in cozy naps. Some days, I feel the same.

What makes everything even tougher is this darn constant low-grade covid depression, all the folks I know who are down with the virus, and the incessant news about how it's messing up everybody's lives. We know, media, we know! Plus, my dear L'Arche friend, Debbie, a sweet, sometimes stubborn, and "empowered woman," as another friend put it, died too soon last week and broke my heart in places I didn't expect. It's been two years now since I saw her, and covid means attending a funeral is impossible...

So when the Vesey's spring bulb catalog arrived last week, you'd think it would make me happy, but it only added to my depression. Most of what's in it only grows in Zones 4-8, and Edmonton is barely a Zone 3, so all those bright flowers won't make it in my perennial beds, which, to be fair, are pretty full already anyway. So the catalog went straight into our recycling bag... until I decided this morning that I need a January garden.

Nope, not this one.

This one!

I got to work with my scissors and tape, and it took me about a half hour to make a long ribbon of flowers cut straight out of Vesey's. These flowers won't grow in my yard very well, but they have definitely brightened my office. And if you don't look too closely, the woman standing in the heather with the wineglass could be me! 

My January garden is something of a reminder that these grey days, covid, and all my other sorrows will ease into something better, I hope.

Monday, January 24, 2022

Sunday Reflection on a Monday: Living the good news

Today's reflection is brought to you by
Luke 4:16-21.

Jesus, 
my brother and friend,
what if we all owned the fact
that we are children
of our Living God
the way you did?

It's become hard
for me to believe
that you came so we can
worship and glorify you.

If I'm reading you right,
you came to challenge us,
your family members,
your beloved community,
to fulfill God's promises
as you did!

What if I believed
that Isaiah's words applied to me
the way you believed 
they applied to you?

The Spirit of the Lord is upon ME
because You have anointed ME
to bring good news to the poor.

You have sent ME
to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of Your favour.

What if we all believed this of ourselves?

What if we worked to make it true, 
the way you did?

What kind of world would this be?

Help us to be more like you,
to live out your good news
in a world that needs it.

+Amen.

Thursday, January 20, 2022

An Indigeous prayer for the earth

Continuing with the theme of Indigenous art and wisdom in my last moodling, here's a gorgeous video that tells us to continue past our sorrow and make the necessary changes to save our earth. The first 1:25 is a beautiful prayer, and the rest tells the story of the man praying. I'd love to spend some time chatting with this Cherokee elder, Stan Rushworth, but he's in California, and there are many elders here, too. How many Indigenous folks do you know?

Monday, January 17, 2022

Tawatina Bridge -- a must see

I think it's probably safe to say that a lot of people in Riverdale, Cloverdale and surrounding communities here in Edmonton were quite heartbroken by the closure of the pedestrian/bike bridge for the construction of the Valley LRT line back in 2016. Five years is a long time to wait to walk across the river to visit each other.

Shadow and I walked the old footbridge quite a bit with his people, neighbours and friends back in his puppyhood. It was an important link in the River Valley corridor that so many people love, and a lot of people missed it. 

Lee and I watched and commented on the progress of the construction of its replacement, Tawatina Bridge, every time we walked the dog in Strathearn Park, which overlooks the site. And we were really thrilled when it reopened on December 12... so much so that we took Shadow and went down a couple of hours in advance of its official opening to check it out (and avoid the crowds). 

It definitely didn't disappoint.





It is (or soon will be) a functional transit bridge for the Valley Line, yes, but it's also a cultural space with art by Indigenous artists that speak to Indigenous history, to the creatures that live here, and to our connections as human beings to the web of life. My poor little camera can't do the artwork justice -- you'll just have to see it for yourself. I've been there three times already, and look forward to going back again, because there's always more to notice... and I love being near the river, too.

Why not check Tawatina Bridge out for yourself? (And tell me about your favourite art work there? I love the painting of the view to the top of the teepee -- not pictured here -- the "beaded" images of people, and all the different animals...)







May this bridge always remind Edmontonians that we are responsible for working for truth and reconciliation, upholding our part in Treaty Six, and respecting all community members: human, animal, plant, air, water, earth and fire...


Wednesday, January 12, 2022

A moodling revisited... Patience and Love


This week, I am thinking of and praying for a dear friend who was admitted to ICU this week because of a heart attack. This little story about her was written nearly ten years ago, but what I have learned in my relationship with Sandy (not her real name) is timeless. She is a wonderful and valued member of our L'Arche Edmonton community, and I post this in her honour, and in the hopes that her health will continue to improve. Please, my friends, pray with me for her.

* * * * * * *

While I was working at the L'Arche offices this morning, Sandy, one of our members with a disability, came into my office. Sometimes she comes in while I'm in the middle of something important and starts fiddling with the books on the shelf or the boxes of brochures. She likes to help, so when I don't have shredding for her to do, she often "makes" her own work. Unfortunately, she doesn't know the kind of assistance that's helpful. Today, by the time I freed my brain from the document I was typing, Sandy had a handful of fundraising envelopes that she was spreading across a table. "How you?" she asked, when she realized that I was watching her. 

It's easy to get impatient when work is interrupted, but at L'Arche we do our best to see the interruptions as part of the job. "I'm fine," I said, as I got up from my desk, gently took the envelopes from Sandy and put them back on the shelf where she had found them. Instead of shooing Sandy back downstairs as I often do, I took her hand and said, "Would you like to help me go find something in the community room?"

" 'Kay," she said. As we walked down the stairs holding hands, she counted the steps from one to nine, and echoed me as I counted the remainder. At the bottom, we reached the door of the Day Program where Sandy and the other core members engage in all sorts of activities. The sounds of drumming and singing emanated from the room, and Sandy suddenly remembered where she was supposed to be. "Bye," she said, and left me standing in the hallway. She loves music; I had to finish my errand alone.

About an hour later, I was engrossed in my work on the computer screen again, and didn't really notice Sandy slip into my office until she put an arm around me, kissed me on the top of the head, and said in her soft, squeaky voice, "I love you, Reea."

"I love you, too," I said, as she disappeared again. I guess patience with Sandy's little interruptions reaps rewards. She never told me she loved me until today.

Tuesday, January 11, 2022

Simple Suggestion #285 -- Dance!

My dearest friend and a dozen or so of her friends from across Western Canada have welcomed me into their Saturday morning 5Rhythms group. Early every Saturday morning, via an online video call platform, we get together to move to music. My friend comes up with a 20-25 minute playlist of 5 songs of different types -- Flowing, Staccato, Chaos, Lyrical, and Stillness, and we enjoy embodying the songs by moving to them in different ways. The rhythms themselves form a wave that peaks with high activity in the middle (chaos) and comes back to stillness, a quiet and contemplative state. We conclude with silent meditation for ten minutes. Moving and meditating with the ladies never fails to touch me deeply.

The dancing part of our time together reminds me of when I was small, and my mom would play music in our living room. We had a really colourful rug, and I remember pretending it was magical, and that it gave me the power to be a great interpretive dancer, graceful and strong, and I would perform for adoring crowds in my mind, often with my sisters. For some reason, the songs that come to mind are Puppet on a String (chaos?) by Paul Mauriat and his orchestra (see below), followed by their version of Love is Blue (lyrical?). I suspect we asked Mom to play that record over and over and one song just followed the other.

The meditative part of our 5Rhythms time together is powerful too... just having a sense that we are all joined together in silence -- opening ourselves to quiet and peace -- somehow bonds us together even though many of us are strangers to each other.

As a practitioner of centering prayer most days, I have regular opportunities for quiet and peace -- it's the dance that I find I really need. In moving to music, I hear it in a different way because it is embellished with my own physicality. Dancing enriches the music experience, even though I'm not trained as a dancer and often feel a bit awkward in my movement. If a song has lyrics, those words find a deeper meaning somehow. If it is instrumental, the beauty of a certain instrument or the piece as a whole may resonate more deeply within me. Movement becomes a different form of active meditation as my body and mind work together to create a physical representation of something almost intangible. And that physical representation fills me with endorphins and probably other healthy neurological things I don't know about that combat stress and anxiety and are good for me, body and soul.

So the next time a piece of music catches your attention and you're able to move, why not dance? And invite those around you to dance with you! Life is too short to worry about how awkward we look or who might be laughing... and in my experience, often those who laugh wish they could lose their inhibitions long enough to join in.

If you find you're taking life too seriously, dance is one way to lighten things up! Here's the light-hearted Puppet on a String. If you don't want to get up and dance right now, just let your hands be the puppeteer... and have a happy day!

Saturday, January 8, 2022

A tribute to Uncle Borys

I will miss that slightly crooked smile. And the twinkle in those eyes. Uncle Borys was a character with a great sense of humour and a love for oil painting a la Bob Ross. He created hundreds of canvases in homemade frames, two of which hang in our home in his honour.

Uncle Borys reached the blessed age of 96, and he died on Christmas Day, a time that has ever been connected with him in my mind because he was the one who taught me to say Merry Christmas in Polish the very first time we met. I still don't know much more Polish than Wesołych Świąt Bożego Narodzenia. I'm a bit sad that I never got to sing a gorgeous Polish Taize chant for him... but I'm sure he can hear it in heaven, where I'm betting he's waiting for his lovely wife, Aunt Albina to join him. They were married for 72 years.

His life was the stuff of stories. He was born in Deniskowicze, Poland, and loved his hometown , painting a picture of it years later from memory. But when he was 15, in a land grab, the Soviets deported him and his family to a work camp in Siberia. Finding themselves in need of soldiers in World War II, the Soviets allowed 16-year-old Borys to join General Wladyslaw Anders' army of Polish men called from across the region, which left Russia through Kazakhstan and trained with the British in Iraq, eventually fighting with them at the Battle of Monte Cassino in Italy. Polish soldiers were the ones to finally take the Monastery that was the strategic point in the battle, hoisting their flag over it so everyone knew the allies had broken through. Uncle Borys was a quiet war hero -- I only recently learned about his military career.

When the war ended, Uncle Borys managed to emigrate to Alberta, where he met Aunt Albina and found work as a handyman who could fix or build almost anything. He had many different jobs because of his skills, and eventually became the head supervisor of maintenance for Lethbridge Catholic Schools. He and Aunt Al had two children and three grandchildren, and loved them all very well. The couple loved to travel, visiting Poland many times, and they golfed well into their eighties.

Uncle Borys's forest stream
At our last visit with Aunt Al and Uncle Borys, he proudly gave his godson, Lee, a book to read about Anders' Army, and we had a great visit, even watching one of Bob Ross's TV oil painting lessons together. "Just look at how he does that! Isn't it amazing!" Borys exclaimed. His warmth and humour always shone brightly, and though we didn't get to see him very often, it's always comforting to know there are gentle people like him in our world. Now that he's gone, I like to imagine him and his TV painting guru working together on those happy little trees somewhere in the Great Beyond. 

Rest in peace, Uncle Borys -- I look forward to seeing you again. Bożego Narodzenia -- may it be your most joyous New Year yet!

Wednesday, January 5, 2022

One good word for 2022

Those of you who have been reading Simple Moodlings for some time know that I like to choose a word at the beginning of each year, to set a focus for it.

Last year's Word of the Year was unity. As I wrote on January 7, 2021, the choosing of that word was my effort "to be conscious that, although there are many things we disagree on, we can work together for the good of all. Unity asks us to set down our hurt and anger and outrage and try to understand others in a way that invites them to work with us toward the beauty, goodness, and truth that we are all created equal, and the reality that really, we are all one family that needs to come together, not just for our own personal good, but for the good of our earth, especially post-COVID, whenever that time comes."

And it was a good word, as I found myself focusing on collective good -- in the beauty, goodness and truth of the people around me and the world we live in. A unity moment that stands out for me in 2021 was saying goodbye to Garth, a fellow whose smile always made my heart sing. I saw him most Sundays at Inner City Pastoral Ministry, and it seemed like we both made efforts to connect, even if just to greet each other, sometimes with longer conversations about the worship service or what was going on in his life. On the day that he told us he was moving back to BC to be with his daughter and grandchildren, I teared up as I told him I would miss him, and asked if I could give him a masked hug. And wow, was it a good, heartfelt tight squeeze, as I put all my affection for him into one gesture, and maybe he was doing the same. "I'll remember that hug for a long time," he said, and I said, "me too." Our lives could hardly be more different, but that moment of connection and unity meant more to me than words can say.

I have been thinking a lot about my Word of the Year for 2022, and my heart and soul tell me that it has to be light. With all the challenges and struggles our world is facing right now, in these long dark days of winter, I find myself constantly looking for light. Not that darkness doesn't have gifts in its hands -- think of the child in the womb, the midnight sky, the darkness that allows us to rest, the seeds asleep in the blackness of the earth. It always drives me a bit crazy when people equate darkness with evil. Don't they realize that sometimes dark moments are the ones that help us to listen to, befriend and love our own souls better? 

It was the darkness of early mornings in Advent that led me to this year's Word of the Year. Sitting in my meditation place, I couldn't see my nature icon very well. It's a dark forest that speaks to me of God's love, with light filtering down through the trees and into a dark rooted pond where God's love also sustains all that is. As I sat trying to see the icon in the darkness, I suddenly remembered that in our darkest cubbyhole under the basement stairs was an old box of partylite candles (purchased pre-children) that had been put away when one of our toddlers accidentally broke a candleholder. I went downstairs immediately, brought the box up, and lit one candle -- and it was just the right amount of light... allowing sufficient darkness for meditation, and enough light to see the image.

With the rediscovery of my candles and light as my word for 2022, I want to focus on the small bits of light that are shining through the struggles and challenges in these days. I want to see the people who are quietly making a difference where they are, the strangers who are becoming friends, the humble servant leaders who do what they do without drawing attention to themselves. And as I sit in my meditation place and let the word light come to me and fill me, I ask it not to overpower holy darkness, but to work in each of us and help us to be visible beauty, goodness and truth for each other in this year that is just a few days old.