50 years of gratitude

This week marks 50 years since my family of origin moved 
from small town Saskatchewan to the big city of Edmonton, Alberta. 
The picture below was taken the month before we came 
(in September of 1974). 

The colour picture below is from winter of 2011...

and the next picture is from the last day of September this year.

Our city has grown a lot since we came, 

from a population of about 445,000

to the present 1.1 million people.

The roads are busier (and always under construction).

The people are more diverse, 

and the arts and culture scene has grown

by more than leaps and bounds!

Unfortunately, homelessness has increased

(doubled since last year to 4,700 people lacking homes,

or so Homeward Trust tells us today)

mostly because successive governments have failed 

over the past 30+ years to build and maintain

housing stock that is affordable.

(I'll have news about a housing rally coming up 

for National Housing Day on November 23rd.

Watch this space.)

I am grateful for life in this city, 

first known as amiskwaciswâskahikan in Cree

or Beaver Hills House in English.

Thanks, Dad and Mom,

for your decision to move to this beautiful place

50 years ago -- how time flies!

Thank you, beautiful place on a beautiful river,

for being home for 50 years.

I am grateful.

Ninanaskomun.

Wednesday music appreciation?

Doesn't quite have the same ring to it as Monday Music Appreciation, does it?

But Monday was my dear friend Farley's memorial service, and I wasn't thinking much about moodling. I did manage to hold myself together to sing Part of the Family because my friend Julie -- and everyone present -- really sang along. It was Farley's song, and they belted it out for him!

And his son Paul sang this beautiful song, too, which I had never heard until I met Farley. I loved Farley's version, and didn't know about Bob Franke, who wrote it, or that Stan Rogers had recorded it in a key that Farley appreciated and likely kept when he sang it.

Here it is for your enjoyment -- Thanksgiving Eve by Bob Franke, as sung by Stan Rogers.

Monday Music Appreciation #41: Everything reminds me of my dog

What would you call him?

Since Friday, my favourite radio station, CKUA, has been running its annual fall fundraising drive, and I've been enjoying the hosts teaming up and playing listener requests while they invite listeners to donate to the station. 

It's a unique and wonderful thing, this province-wide, listener-funded radio station that's been running for 97 years. It doesn't play top-40 hits -- rather, it caters to local musicians and other talented folks I would otherwise never hear of. Sometimes it plays stuff I'm not crazy about, but if I wait a few minutes, I hear something more to my taste, and I've fallen in love with a few of the announcers.

It's the only station that has played So Fine, a joyful tune my kids recorded, and it has helped launch the careers of many artists through its arts and culture programming. It can be heard anywhere in the world if you click this link.

On Saturday, as I was planting the last of my spring bulbs, the song below came through my earbuds, and made me laugh with delight. I saw Jane Siberry perform it live once, and enjoyed its humour then. I'm not sure if I'd heard it since, but I offer it below as a bit of music to be appreciated this Monday.

Not everything reminds me of my dog, but I'm posting a picture of the Havanese puppy who will be joining our household in two weeks. As yet, he's still with his mama and seven litter mates, and we are in the process of preparing for him to live here -- and throwing names around. We want to avoid common human names, and are compiling a list of possibilities. If you look at this picture and a name springs to mind, please send it my way. You might have better ideas than I do!

Here's Jane Siberry's Everything Reminds Me of My Dog. Enjoy!

Sunday Reflection: Top or bottom of the heap?

Today's reflection is brought to you by

Mark 10:35-45.

It was a gorgeous morning as I drove to ICPM this morning -- a stunning, fiery sunrise was reflected in the windows of the downtown skyscrapers, so I quickly pulled off and took a picture.

It was also a challenging morning for me at the Community of Emmanuel. It was my first time sitting in my friend Farley's chair and playing and singing Part of the Family, a song we always sang together, without him. Let's just say I was a mess, but people sang along and we got through it. I'm grateful that I don't have to lead the music for his memorial service in a week's time.

It was also my turn to give a reflection on the reading. I'll leave it here for my readers. I hope you all have a good week.

* * * * * * *

This is an interesting Sunday reading, don’t you think? Here we have James and John, two of Jesus’ friends and disciples, and basically, they’re asking Jesus to make them his “main men.” They’ve seen how popular and amazing Jesus is and want some of his amazingness to rub off on them – so they can be more important than Jesus' other followers. So they’re kinda sneaky with their request to Jesus, probably because they know the other guys won’t like it if they’re seen as more important. 

I suspect that if we look inside ourselves – if I look inside myself – I know that there’s a little bit of James and John in me too. There’s a bit of insecurity, maybe, that sometimes makes me want to be seen as important, or special, or maybe I want to feel like I’m better than others, especially people I don’t like. 

This little episode with Jesus and James and John makes me think of one of my friends, who isn't really a friend. All my life, my relationship with her has felt like a competition for some reason that I can’t quite understand. Maybe it’s all in my head, but many of my interactions with her have felt like a contest when I really didn’t want to compete. For example, when I was six, my parents bought me my first bike, and my friend started bragging about her bike being bigger than mine, and she could ride without training wheels! Her teachers were always better than my teachers, to hear her tell it. As we went through High School, she bragged about her grades, which were always better than mine. In our twenties, my friend boasted about being so busy, having the best job, and having so many friends, but I was more introverted and didn’t feel like my work or my friends were part of a competition. And when we got married and had our families, she made even the arrival of our babies feel like some sort of contest. It was weird. It's puzzled me all my life, and makes me a little sad too, because I just wanted us to be true friends, but I ended up avoiding her. 

Here’s the thing about competition – it divides people into two categories: winners and losers. What happens next is that the losers have an inferiority complex because they’ve lost, and the winners have a superiority complex because they’ve won, and the two groups don’t mix because of resentments that build up in a win-lose world. The losers are unhappy with losing and become more determined to get the winner’s prize, and the winners are watching their backs because they know the losers might beat them next time and they have to protect their status as winners. In this scripture reading today, the other disciples got mad when they heard about James and John’s request to be Jesus’ hot shot helpers. 

One of my favourite spiritual writers, Henri Nouwen, explains it well. This is what he says: “The society in which we live suggests in countless ways that the way to go is up. Making it to the top, entering the limelight, breaking the record - that's what draws attention, gets us on the front page of the newspaper, and offers us [big] rewards....” 

James and John are so excited about the “big reward” of sitting beside Jesus in his glory that they don’t think about how the others might feel, or even hear what Jesus says to them about the suffering he, and by association, they, will have to endure. “Oh, yes, yes, we can drink your cup and follow your path” they say, but we all know where that path ultimately led. To the cross. Jesus’ glory is not a King-dom, like the Roman Empire. It’s a Kin-dom, a place where we are all kin, all brothers and sisters, equal in every way. Jesus’ heaven isn’t a race up a ladder. It’s a wide open gate for everyone who lives in love, where nobody is top dog because we all have our own unique and special qualities. 

Henry Nouwen continues by saying, “The way of Jesus is radically different. It is the way not of upward mobility but of downward mobility. It is going to the bottom, staying behind the sets, and choosing the last place! Why is the way of Jesus worth choosing? Because it is … the way Jesus took… the way that brings everlasting life.” 

Jesus offers a completely different kind of world than what James and John were expecting. And when the disciples got angry with James and John for trying to be the top dogs, Jesus told them all to sit down and listen, and he explained that his Kin-dom is about serving one another, not trying to be the greatest. In Jesus’ books, the great ones in this life aren’t the ones who climb over everyone else on their way to the top of the heap, but are the ones hustling around the bottom of it, trying to help everybody else up too. 

Of course, when we look around the world we are in right now, we can see that there are a lot of so-called “hot shots” or “top dogs” who think they are the winners in this life because they’ve clawed their way to positions of power over other people. But what would Jesus say to them? The same thing he says to his disciples and to us: “The great ones among you will humble themselves and serve all the others.” 

So the next question is, what does it mean to serve? Let’s look at Jesus and how he did it. He spent his ministry listening to people, reminding them by his actions that God loved them. He healed the sick. He cared for the broken hearted. He walked alongside people where they were at, and forgave what needed forgiveness to free them from their burdens. He encouraged people to choose the good path. He was generous to everyone, not interested in piling up possessions, but sharing all that he had. Above all, he loved everyone, no matter if they were powerful or small in the world’s eyes. As he said in the reading, he offered his life in the place of many, to set them free. 

Can we be that kind of servant to others? Can we listen? Can our actions be an extension of God’s care for the people we meet? Can we listen to other people’s broken hearts and share ours and find healing as a community? Can we walk alongside each other and forgive what needs forgiveness? Can we choose the good path and share what we have? Can we love everyone, even when the world seems stuck on making everyone either a winner or a loser? Can we set each other and ourselves free by letting go of grudges and anger and choosing the way of love above all? 

Let’s talk to Creator about it. I invite you to pray in your heart with me: 

Creator, 

Here I am, 

just the way you made me. 

You know me. 

You know everything about me – 

the good things, 

the things I am proud of, 

the things I like to brag about… 

and the things about myself that I’m not proud of,

that make me ashamed.

You know everything.

 

And still, you love me. 

You love me! 

And you love everybody else too. 

Help me, 

Creator, 

to remember that everyone is your beloved child. 

Help me to be like your son, Jesus, 

who made himself a servant to everyone. 

Help me to listen with love. 

Help me to accept people without judging them. 

Help me to go the extra mile for others who need help. 

Help me to love and forgive and serve others, 

 to see where I can help, 

 and to do what Jesus would do with kindness and compassion.

 

+AMEN.

About all that gobbledygook

(If you're not receiving these moodlings by e-mail, feel free to ignore all but the last paragraph of  this moodling!)

Those of you who receive these moodlings in your e-mail inbox because you signed up to "Get Simple Moodlings by E-mail" are subject to a fair bit of gobbledygook (yes, that's the incorrect technical term for strange computer language about error codes and IP address restrictions) whenever I try to put a video into my moodlings. This is what I'm talking about, right here:

I'm not someone who knows enough about computer coding to be able to figure out how to fix this problem and save you from all that gibberish, and I'm very sorry about that. All I can do is tell you this much: if you see this kind of strange language, it means that the videos in my e-mailed moodlings are not appearing so that you can see them.

That's why I've put a sort of cheeky comment below the e-mail heading: 

Here's my latest moodling in basic format.
To see it in all its glory , visit https://simplemoodlings.blogspot.com/.

The above link will take you to the page where the pretty colour version of Simple Moodlings and its videos should be visible, clickable, and viewable. I post this here because I don't want my friends to miss Farley's song in yesterday's moodling... or any other Monday Music or video that's worth some appreciation.

And one more thing -- thanks for reading, friends. I've been moodling online for 14 years already, and I appreciate hearing from you whenever feel like responding to something you see here. The odd little comment here and there is a good part of the reason I've been at this so long. You make my day!

Be well!

Monday Music Appreciation #40: Love Waits by Farley Magee

My heart broke on Friday afternoon when I received word that my musical and faith-filled friend, Farley, had died. He hadn't been feeling well of late, and missed our last two Sundays at Inner City Pastoral Ministry, where I liked to tease him about me being his favourite (well, only, perhaps) back up singer. No one expected this news, and we at ICPM are pretty heartbroken, though we know that Farley is with God, doing just fine, and still alive in our hearts.

I didn't know Farley very long, but what I knew of him, I loved. He was a gentle man with an ironic sense of humour, and a very talented guitarist. The day we met, I had brought my guitar because I was told I could help with the music at ICPM, but Farley's reception to that was a bit cool -- likely because I was an unknown quantity. I told him I'd just back him up and play what I could, and it worked out okay. By the end of the morning, he had warmed up and we had a good conversation -- I guess he realized that I had enough ability that I might make the music a little richer than it would have been otherwise.

It was five years later when I joined the ministry team at ICPM, right in the middle of Covid. It was a fall day, and Farley was sitting outside, playing his guitar to entertain the folks waiting in line for lunches, and I recognized a hymn he was playing and started to sing it. His head swiveled toward me, and he grinned, and from that Sunday on, he often played the tune to see if I'd catch it and sing along. It was like an unspoken communication between us.

But my favourite memory of Farley by far is a September day when we were waiting for an event we were both attending in St. Albert at the invitation of Pastor Quinn. We arrived a few hours before other folks were due, and I asked Farley if he'd like to go for a walk. It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, and we walked down the hill to the Sturgeon River and wandered its banks all the way to the St. Albert community garden, enjoying the warm sun, the scents of autumn, the lazy river, and good company. I learned a bit about Farley's life, his long time grief from losing his daughter to cancer when she was only 7, and I shared some of my own grief at that time. We became better friends that afternoon.

I will really, really miss Farley every Sunday morning. His was a talent that can't be replaced. He often started our Sunday mornings with "Here Comes the Sun," and segued into bluesy riffs on a theme sounding like Fred Penner's "The Cat Came Back" or Woodie Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant." My friend, Linda, and I would dance, and people would smile. Farley's music lent a peaceful calm to many otherwise chaotic Sunday mornings. His "smudge music" was one of my favourite sounds. I only wish I had recorded it.

And this song, written by Farley, is another favourite. The first time he played it as a meditation for the Community of Emmanuel, the tears rolled down my face. It's such a beautiful expression of what Love does, what Love is. As Linda commented today, it pretty much summarizes Farley's theology and belief. I'm so grateful that he allowed me to record it. I asked him once, if his favourite artist could record his song so it became famous, who would that be? "I'll have to think about that," he said, but he never got back to me on that question.

I know I've posted the song in these moodlings twice already, but third time is the charm, or something.

I will always miss harmonizing with you, Farley, your philosophical commentaries on life and the goodness and omnipotence of God, and the twinkle in your eye when anyone made you laugh. You liked to say, "God knows. I don't." Well, now you know God's love for you in its fullness.

Farley, my musical brother, you were one in a million. Rest in peace, beloved friend.

Monday Music Appreciation #39: Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 3

I'm so delighted that the symphony season has started once again (I'm back to my dream job!), and I must say that the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra, Guest Conductor Jean-Marie Zeitouni, and 25-year-old Canadian pianist Jaeden Izik-Dzurko started the season with a triumphant rendition of the concerto you'll hear if you click on the video below. Jaeden was just incredible and deserved every one of his three (or was it four?) standing ovations on Friday night. Wow.

I'll never cease to be amazed by musicians. Sergei Rachmaninoff wrote this exceedingly technically challenging concerto in the summer of 1909, but didn't have enough time to practice it before taking it (on an ocean crossing -- I think Orville and Wilbur Wright were still working the bugs out of their aeroplane at that point) to New York for its premiere that November. No piano on the ship, so he practiced on a paper keyboard! Imagine!

And the young man below is just as accomplished -- Yunchan Lim from South Korea is just 20, and knows his way around a keyboard with his eyes closed, I'm sure. The beauty and complexity of this concerto has been singing with me all day as I process tomatoes and relive the magic of symphony and piano working together so beautifully (I especially love from about 35 minutes onward). I hope you enjoy this as much as I do.

Sunday Reflection: You're adorable

Today's reflection is brought to you by

Mark 10:13-16, 

and partly inspired by Pastor Quinn's sermon for the Community of Emmanuel 

in downtown Edmonton this morning.

They wanted to bring their little ones

for you to touch 

and hold 

and bless.

We don't know who they were

or why your disciples tried to send them away.

We do know that you were indignant, 

even angry, 

speaking sternly.

You welcomed those little ones, 

cuddled some,

laid your hands upon others,

and blessed them

and all their sweet, 

adorable innocence.

Just as Creator wants to do with all his children,

whether we are sweet,

adorable,

or innocent

or not.

(Though you reminded us those qualities

are the way into God's heart.)

The Good News is

that it doesn't matter who you are

what you do,

how you vote,

or how many mistakes you have made.

You're as adorable

in the eyes of God

as a little one is

in the eyes of a loving parent.

Thank you, 

Creator,

for sending Jesus

to remind us how fully and deeply

we are loved.

Help us to remember

that every person who crosses our path

is loved just as fully and deeply

by you.

Remind me not to judge,

but to love as you do.

You want to touch

and hold

and bless us all.

May we touch

and hold 

and bless each other

just as you would.

+Amen

This week my dad celebrated an important birthday. There are no words to express how much he means to me, and how much he has to do with my understanding of God as a loving parent.

Thanks, Dad. I love you so much! M

2024's last garden moodling

It was another good garden year in most respects. A heatwave in July meant I had hardly any broad beans because the blossoms dried out on the vines, my cabbages didn't manage to get anywhere, and the strawberries had a hard go of it because of some wood shaving mulch that must've had chemicals in it. But Mother Nature did well with the help of a lot of watering from our 4000 L rain tank and my daughter's vigilance when we were away looking after my father-in-law. 

So here's a little 4 minute video from mid-September, before Lee got busy dismantling things, and a few pictures of what's left this morning. It's supposed to freeze tonight, so my basement is full of ripening tomatoes and peppers, and I'll turn the kale into chips and soups very soon (I'm pretty sure they can stand a bit of frost.

Thanks to Creator for this garden space, and for the produce we enjoy from it.

Lee took apart the double-high raised box

next to the compost pile so that our leaf bin

could be closer to the compost, so a few meters 

of dirt are spread around in other boxes.

All that's left: cherry tomatoes, carrots, beets 

and a few potatoes still in the ground

And our new leaf bin next to the compost pile,

waiting for this year's leaves to fall...

We'll cover all the beds with leaves, and start fresh in 2025.

This is your garden moodler, signing off till then.

Further thoughts on National Truth and Reconciliation Day

After feeling so frustrated with my church on Sunday because there was no mention of National Truth and Reconciliation Day, I attended a special Truth and Reconciliation Day mass at Sacred Heart Church of the First Peoples with Lee on Monday morning. It was a beautiful service with singing that raised the roof at times, and I was very happy to be there.

But as the presider noted, Truth and Reconciliation Day should be more than a day -- it should be every day of the year. When I got home, I looked in my September missalette a second time to determine whether I had missed any prayers or mention of care for First Peoples in its pages, other than the somewhat offensive reference to Jean Brebeuf and Companions' response to the call for "missionaries to the Indians" -- in other words, the earliest attempts to colonize Indigenous people away from their own understanding of Creator toward Eurocentric thinking. That was the only mention of anything to do with Indigenous People in the entire September booklet.

So today I am writing a letter to the company who puts out the missalette, as well as to the Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops. I want to remind them all that one morning's prayers in one church in my city is not an adequate effort toward Truth and Reconciliation from a church that was so much a part of Residential Schools and the resulting intergenerational trauma they left as a horrifying legacy of colonialism. We should be praying for and participating in the healing of these wounds on a regular basis. 

And to have an entire September missalette that doesn't acknowledge Truth and Reconcilation Day? That needs to be fixed!

Enough about my frustrations. I also want to share good writings about Truth and Reconciliation by some young folks who work for the Council of Canadians, a social-justice oriented organization here. They ask us to rethink our own ideas about important issues, and though that's never comfortable, it is essential if we really want the world to heal. Click the links below to read some excellent and thought-provoking stuff... and see what else you can learn in this Reconciliation week.

Every Child Matters, Not Just the Ones in Orange by Eagleclaw Thom

Truth, Reconciliation and the Violence that Never Stopped by Christina Kruszewski