Friendship

After a week in Belgium because of the generosity of two dear friends, this seems a perfect quotation to share today:

Friendship is one of the greatest gifts a human being can receive. It is a bond beyond common goals, common interests, or common histories. It is a bond stronger than sexual union can create, deeper than a shared fate can solidify, and even more intimate than the bonds of marriage or community. Friendship is being with the other in joy and sorrow, even when we cannot increase the joy or decrease the sorrow. It is a unity of souls that gives nobility and sincerity to love. Friendship makes all of life shine brightly. Blessed are those who lay down their lives for their friends...

Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey, January 7th.

Thank you, dear Gaby and Yvonne (and Luc, Brigitte, and Dmitri). Being with you was a taste of heaven, of being loved for no reason other than who we are, your friends from Canada. We thoroughly enjoyed our time with you... Most especially the beach walk and singing in the kitchen. Without your friendship and love, our family's trip to three countries in Europe this summer never would have happened. Belgische zoentjes to you all!

Sunday thoughts on solitude

All human beings are alone. No other person will completely feel like we do, think like we do, act like we do. Each of us is unique, and our aloneness is the other side of our uniqueness. The question is whether we let our aloneness become loneliness or whether we allow it to lead us into solitude. Loneliness is painful; solitude is peaceful. Loneliness makes us cling to others in desperation; solitude allows us to respect others in their uniqueness and create community.

Letting our aloneness grow into solitude and not into loneliness is a lifelong struggle. It requires conscious choices about whom to be with, what to study, how to pray, and when to ask for counsel. But wise choices will help us to find the solitude where our hearts can grow in love...

Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey, January 18th

I am in solitude these days within a large and praying community in Taize, France. What a gift!

Learning the art of listening

For the next three days, I'll be attending a workshop put on by L'Arche's Western Region for those who accompany L'Arche assistants who work with our people with disabilities. I'm very much looking forward to it, because I have been accompanying some assistants over the last few years, and haven't always felt like I knew how to listen well enough.

Socrates is credited with saying, "The unexamined life is not worth living." In accompaniment, I listen, and hold out what I hear so that the assistant can examine it and decide if changes are required. I also offer encouragement and try to ensure that the assistant knows how to access what he or she needs to be good at caring for himself or herself and to live with people with disabilities in mutual relationship.

Henri Nouwen speaks beautifully about the spiritual hospitality offered when we listen:

To listen is very hard, because it asks of us so much interior stability that we no longer need to prove ourselves by speeches, arguments, statements, or declarations.  True listeners no longer have an inner need to make their presence known.   They are free to receive, to welcome, to accept. 

Listening is much more than allowing another to talk while waiting for a chance to respond.  Listening is paying full attention to others and welcoming them into our very beings.  The beauty of listening is that, those who are listened to start feeling accepted, start taking their words more seriously and discovering their own true selves.  Listening is a form of spiritual hospitality by which you invite strangers to become friends, to get to know their inner selves more fully, and even to dare to be silent with you. 

--Henri Nouwen  Bread for the Journey, March 11

I find that listening to assistants is easy because we set time aside just for that, I have no personal agenda when they come to visit, I find them so interesting, and I want to help them see how amazing they are. I also want to help my own family discover their own true selves, but somehow it's harder to listen well when life is making its day-to-day demands. I'm very fortunate to have and be a good sounding board with my husband, but it's not so easy with our children because all that parenting stuff gets in the way, if you know what I mean.

Motherhood means that I'm often distracted from what they are telling me by what I think I need to say to them. I'm not really listening as much as looking for an opening to remind them about their chores or some mundane thing that's not really important. I'm not paying them the kind of attention that helps them to discover their own goodness. Other times I want to listen, but they're too busy, and I think it would be great to tie them to a chair so that I can be sure that I'm hearing what they're really saying -- and what they're not! 

Perhaps I just need to remind myself more often to be open to those moments when they are trying to tell me something important -- or when they're seemingly talking about nothing. I need to remind myself that when they are talking, it's usually a run up to what they really want to say, and I need to make time for them to actually say it, as I do when accompanying L'Arche assistants.

Learning the art of listening is a tricky business. I'm hoping this weekend's workshop will help me to be more comfortable with my position as accompanier, and with my own vocation as a parent. Watch this space, as I hope to share what I learn.

Who do you really listen to? Who really listens to you?

Fruitfulness

September the third. School has started and routine has returned once again. Shadow the puppy knew something was "wrong" this morning -- it has been months since everyone converged in the kitchen at 7 a.m. Husband drove off in the car, eldest daughter hopped her bike to get to her new job (coffee barista in the mornings, university in the afternoons) and our other two daughters raced out the door to get to high school and junior high. Shadow and I caught a glimpse of them turning the corner to the bus stop, and he got hung up on his leash in his hurry to catch up.

We said good bye at the bus stop and walked past three more neighbourhood schools on our first early morning walk in weeks. We also passed the yard of a woman whose plum tree was dropping some of its fruit on the ground. "Those are beautiful plums," I told her, and she turned, apologizing that she speaks only French, so I told her I understood French, and she told me the plums make delicious confiture. I asked if I could taste one, and she gave me five, asking where I lived and if I could take more. I thanked her and walked on, the plums cold in my pocket. Then I thought, why not taste one now?

It was cool as the morning dew, juicy, sweet, et fantastique! I turned back to tell her so, but she had gone back into her house. No matter. I have a plan... this evening, I will take a small pear (not quite ripe) from my tree, and an icecream pail, and return to her house to ask if we can make une échange fruits. I would love to bake some Italian Prune and Nut Loaf this week, and next week I can take her a pail of ripe pears. I love it!

Here's Henri Nouwen, one of my favourite spiritual writers, whose reference to abundance certainly fits this time of year:

The opposite of a scarcity mentality is an abundancy mentality.  With an abundancy mentality we say:  "There is enough for everyone, more than enough:  food, knowledge, love ... everything."  With this mind-set we give away whatever we have, to whomever we meet.  When we see hungry people we give them food.  When we meet ignorant people we share our knowledge; when we encounter people in need of love, we offer them friendship and affection and hospitality and introduce them to our family and friends.

When we live with this mind-set, we will see the miracle that what we give away multiplies:  food, knowledge, love ... everything.  There will even be many leftovers. 

-- Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey, May 7

God bless all students and teachers, and give them an abundantly fruitful school year. AMEN!

A writer's update

One of the arguments we often use for not writing is this:   "I have nothing original to say.  Whatever I might say, someone else has already said it, and better than I will ever be able to."  This, however, is not a good argument for not writing.  Each human person is unique and original, and nobody has lived what we have lived.  Furthermore, what we have lived, we have lived not just for ourselves but for others as well.  Writing can be a very creative and invigorating way to make our lives available to ourselves and to others. 

We have to trust that our stories deserve to be told.  We may discover that the better we tell our stories the better we will want to live them.

-- Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey, April 29

What with dealing with Shadow-the-puppy (who has an eye infection this week, oh joy), planning the planting of this year's vegetables, and working on the history of L'Arche Edmonton, I haven't had much time for books of late. So on Monday evening when my husband and I made a grocery run to one of those big bulk item stores, I made the mistake of wandering around the book tables, just to see what's new.

I call it a mistake... because I find that when I'm faced with big piles of bright, brand new, shiny books, that's when I seem to feel the most discouraged about my own writing. With so many books already on the market, why bother to write? Though people tell me I am a good writer, and I'm presently working as one, my chances of being published are pretty slim, and experiencing any kind of commercial success is like winning a lottery, really.

I came home from the book section feeling quite deflated... and found Henri Nouwen's April 29th commentary (above) in my inbox, one of those little God-incidents to keep me on track. It reminded me that I'm not writing for fame and fortune, but simply to share with others who have similar interests and dreams... that our world can emerge from its present plague of harried consumer complexity that creates injustice and inequality to become a place of simplicity and joy. In fact, I have another novel about that whole movement percolating in my head... and seemingly endless moodlings!

But first, I have this huge task of completing the L'Arche History. Back in September, our community leader and I sat down and looked at the project and set May as a potential deadline for the first draft to be completed. As it turns out, that deadline was rather unrealistic, because we've reached the deadline, and though I've been working fairly steadily, I'm only almost finished writing about the first ten of the past forty years! Other versions of our history have been somewhat slap-dash because our community has been too busy living L'Arche to write about it for the most part, but on digging deeper, I'm finding too many fascinating tidbits that I don't think should be lost (like the story I posted on Moodlings for Easter Sunday). The way I see it, I have one chance to do our story justice and get it down properly, and it might take another year at the least. Of course, if the community wants a more hurried version, I'll have to try to do that, but it goes against the kind of writer I am (and, I suspect, against the kind of story the community really deserves to hear about itself). 

Besides my L'Arche writing, I'm also awaiting a response from a local publisher about my first novel. The last time I checked the website, it told me that my manuscript is "under review," which likely meant that there are a few people associated with the press who are reading it and deciding whether it's a story on which the manager may want to take a chance. I have all sorts of reasons that he should dream my dream along with me, but this morning I went to look again, and discovered that my manuscript tracking page has disappeared with the redesign of the website, so I'm not sure what's going on. I'll send an email shortly to see what I can learn... In the meantime, keep your fingers crossed that my dream will come true!

While I'm on the topic of getting published, I'm going to put in a plug for a writer friend of mine whose dream has come true... Astrid Blodgett's book, You Haven't Changed a Bit, is a collection of short stories that has been published by the University of Alberta Press. She'll be launching her book on Thursday, May 16th at 7:00 p.m. at Audrey's Books, and I'm sure she'll be happy to sign copies for any and all comers. Three cheers for Astrid!!!

Thinking about Astrid's success has put a bit of the wind back into my sales, and thanks to Henri Nouwen and others around me who know the joy of writing, even if some dreams may fade away, I refuse to lose heart. I've been writing since I was young, simply because I love it, and because it helps me to sort out my soul. I have "redeemed" a lot of my personal struggles, including with writing, by, you guessed it, writing. I'll leave the last word to Henri, again, who sums it up well: 

Writing can be a true spiritual discipline. Writing can help us to concentrate, to get in touch with the deeper stirrings of our hearts, to clarify our minds, to process confusing emotions, to reflect on our experiences, to give artistic expression to what we are living, and to store significant events in our memories. Writing can also be good for others who might read what we write. 

Quite often a difficult, painful, or frustrating day can be "redeemed" by writing about it. By writing we can claim what we have lived and thus integrate it more fully into our journeys. Then writing can become lifesaving for us and sometimes for others too.

-- Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey, April 27 

Book Review -- Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking

My friend, Charleen, has a book club of her very own that I call CBC, for Charleen's Book Club. Our book for January-February was Susan Cain's Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking (Crown 2012, ISBN 978-0-307-35214-9). Having given myself permission long ago to be the introvert that I am, I found the book to be an affirmation of the choices I've been making, and enjoyed seeing how some of the studies cited in its pages fit with my life and the lives of other introverts I know. Our book club's evaluation of it was positive, and since then, I've run into others who have read it and agreed with the sentiment expressed at CBC: "If only I had read this when I was young!" (If we had read it when we were young, perhaps we would have valued our quiet ways earlier in our lives.)

I read the book and didn't give it much more thought -- but over the last few weeks, through conversations with my most introverted daughter, I decided that maybe I should moodle about it here. After all, if it spoke to CBC and me, it's bound to speak to other quiet people who might need the affirmation it offers!

In Quiet, Susan Cain set out to show the value of introversion in a world that gives high regard and praise to those who are extroverted. The introduction tells the story of Rosa Parks, the woman of African descent whose quiet refusal to surrender her seat on an Alabama bus gave impetus to the Civil Rights Movement in the U.S. Her quiet presence and strength reinforced the work of Martin Luther King and those who came after him. The way Cain told the story made me wonder if an extroverted Rosa Parks would have been as effective. Somehow, I don't think so.

Cain's book cites many studies about introversion, and I found that by the time I was halfway through it, I'd read enough scientific and psychological proof for her opinion and was wishing it would end, but I plowed through so that I wouldn't miss anything. For me, the introduction and conclusion were probably enough -- but for those who like to get into detailed studies, there's plenty of information to back up Cain's arguments for introversion.

The realization that meant the most to me in this book is that it's only been the last hundred years or so that extroversion has become the model for so much of our world's interactions. Up to that point, being quiet, thoughtful and sensitive was seen in an equally positive light with being outgoing, lively and super-thick-skinned. But ever since Dale Carnegie published his book, How to Win Friends and Influence People, the quieter and more thoughtful ways of introverts have been somewhat disparaged by a society that's become more interested in 'putting yourself out there,' 'going for the gusto,' and 'showing the world!'

Of course, for the one-third to one-half of the introverted population (many of us quashing our introverted selves to appear as extroverts when necessary), extroversion is not what life is all about. We like quality relationships over quantity, so we often prefer settings that allow for intimate one- or two-way chats over noisy parties where we're expected to interact on a more superficial level with many people. We know that not everyone HAS to be a public speaker all the time -- some of us are cut out to listen, ask meaningful questions, and share well-considered ideas rather than blurt out our most recent thought for feedback. Reflection in our own space works better for many of us than brainstorming around a board room table ever will, and an office with a door that can be closed helps us to be more productive than a pod of cubicles encouraging group interaction.

Susan Cain's work has a lot of implications for our world -- and for the way we organize our work spaces, our classrooms, and our home life. I wish I had read this book before I started my teaching career, because education has evolved in such a way that introverts are more likely to fall through the cracks of the school system, and there are simple ways to counter-balance educational opportunities to help the introverted child. Every teacher should read this book.

But even if you're not a teacher, this post is for all you introverts out there who wish you were more extroverted (as I have at many different times in my life) -- if you're looking for encouragement to be who you are, Quiet might be one book to check out. If you don't have time to look for the book, click here for Susan Cain's website, The Power of Introverts, or watch the Ted Talk video below. It's not a complete explanation by any means, but it gives you some idea...

Though I know shyness and introversion are NOT the same thing, I think a Henri Nouwen reflection that arrived in my inbox earlier this month also fits introverts. His words below are lovely, and encouraging. Of course, the most important thing, whether you are introverted or extroverted, shy or outgoing, is to love yourself and those introverted and extroverted people around you! I'll leave the last word to Henri:

There is something beautiful about shyness, even though in our culture shyness is not considered a virtue.  On the contrary, we are encouraged to be direct, look people straight in the eyes, tell them what is on our minds, and share our stories without a blush. 

But this unflinching soul-baring, confessional attitude quickly becomes boring.  It is like trees without shadows.  Shy people have long shadows, where they keep much of their beauty hidden from intruders' eyes.  Shy people remind us of the mystery of life that cannot be simply explained or expressed.  They invite us to reverent and respectful friendships and to a wordless being together in love.

-- Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey, April 1

A beauty of a weekend

Every so often, Lee and I like to get away, just the two of us, no other distractions. So we left home on Friday afternoon, checked into a hotel, and spent the weekend together.

A dusky view from our dining table on Friday evening, looking toward home...

We ate good food at nice restaurants, saw a play at the Citadel, slept late, did a bit of shopping, bought a picnic lunch, went for a hike around Neon Lake, he did a crossword while I finished reading my latest favourite book (a review is in the works), had a late supper, and watched Lincoln. This morning we grabbed breakfast at Tim's, went to church, and came home to our girls.

Henri Nouwen, one of my favourite spiritual writers says,

Intimacy between people requires closeness as well as distance. It is like dancing. Sometimes we are very close, touching each other or holding each other; sometimes we move away from each other and let the space between us become an area where we can freely move.

To keep the right balance between closeness and distance requires hard work, especially since the needs of the partners may be quite different at a given moment. One might desire closeness while the other wants distance. One might want to be held while the other looks for independence. A perfect balance seldom occurs, but the honest and open search for that balance can give birth to a beautiful dance, worthy to behold.

-- Bread for the Journey, February 22

In my books, this weekend was a beautiful dance. It's good to get away from the usual and just focus on each other once in a while, to remember exactly why we're together for life. I felt God smiling on me all weekend!

"Mom, why can't women be priests?" Part II

(Click here for Part I.)

This life is an interesting journey, to be sure...

On a recent Sunday morning, I woke up to an interview of Toronto's Cardinal Archbishop Thomas Collins on CBC radio. He was talking to Michael Enright in connection with the 50^th anniversary of the second Vatican Council of the Catholic Church. Michael asked Archbishop Collins about the ordination of women, and his reply was that the church cannot change the male priesthood that was instituted by Christ. And I replied, aloud, “where exactly in scripture did Jesus say that only men could offer the Eucharistic meal and that women aren’t allowed to participate as fully in the priesthood as men? And why do you cling to man-made laws over justice and equality for Jesus’ female followers, who hear God’s call just as clearly as men do?” I'm sure I reacted that way because I know a few of those female followers personally, women who feel they are unable to live their vocation because the Catholic Church won't allow it.

Cardinal Collins’ interview was an interesting start to a day that we had planned, as a family, to go to Ruth’s house for eucharist. I’ve known Ruth for almost 30 years, ever since we both worked at a Catholic youth summer camp, but I had lost touch with her until recently, when I learned (by a series of what a friend of mine likes to call “God-incidents”) that Ruth was ordained a Roman Catholic Woman Priest this past spring. I contacted her, and after some thought and prayer and a few emails back and forth, I finally asked my family what they would think about attending a mass with a woman presider. Without exception, they were all VERY interested, so we let Ruth know we were coming, and off we went.

I know that this moodling will ruffle some feathers (if it hasn't already), but I risk sharing these reflections here because, for me, silent acquiescence to a male-only priesthood feels like a perpetuation of injustice. Over the last few weeks, I've discovered that ruffling a few feathers on this topic brings about interesting discussions and new awareness. Maybe, just maybe, those things can help to bring about the ever-dreaded but often-needed event known as change.

When we arrived at Ruth’s house that Sunday, we were greeted at the door by some of Ruth's community. After introductions all around, we and two others who had never been there before were invited into the living room, where the kitchen table was surrounded by living room furniture and a few strategically placed kitchen chairs. There were duotangs containing the prayers of the liturgy, in which God was God, Source of all Being, Father and Mother God, and tender-God, a name with a double meaning that I really like. Readings were passed out among the group, we had a short music practice of a couple of less familiar hymns, and we began the liturgy in the name of God, Source of all Being, Eternal Word and Holy Spirit. Throughout the celebration, God was transcendently Great and Glorious and Triune, but also close and loving and intimate.

The penitential rite and prayers were less formalistic versions of what we usually hear on a Sunday at our church, with beautiful, evocative imagery. After we heard the scriptures, Ruth began the homily with her own reflections about the story of the Rich Young Man and the other readings, and then invited the gathered community’s reflections. For my husband, this felt more like a bible study than a homily, but our kids were most attentive and interested in the sharing of ideas and self expression. Our kids heard every word of that homily. When I quiz my kids about homilies from the pulpit at our church, the usual response is often a blank-eyed shrug.

The Eucharistic prayer was simple and covered all the usual bases, with no over-emphasis on the masculinity of God. Not having God stuck in male pronouns was refreshing (but no worries, Jesus was definitely male). It was also amazing to hear Ruth pray for our bishops Richard, Gregory and Marie. At that point a tear trickled down my cheek, and I found myself praying that the fullness of humanity could be represented both in the clergy and throughout the liturgy, male and female, simply and without fanfare. A missing piece clicked into place.

We sang no acclamations but the Alleluia and the Holy, but other than that, the mass proceeded as usual until the prayer of Jesus, which began, “Our Mother-Father God, who art in heaven...“and ended, “For the Kin-dom, the power, and the glory are yours...” Ruth broke the bread and offered the plate/patten to the person next to her, saying, “The Body of Christ,” and it was passed from person to person that way, as was the wine. Ruth received communion last of all, a much different model than the one offered by the male-led Catholic Church at present.

After communion, we reflected quietly for a few moments and prayed for peace in the Middle East. The closing prayer concluded with, "The mass is ended. Let your service begin!" We sang River of Glory, and were invited to enjoy coffee and snacks in the kitchen. The cats were allowed out of their bedroom exile, and our kids enjoyed making friends with them while we got to know the other adults.

The mass in Ruth’s living room was simple and beautiful, and there was a warm sense of community among the dozen of us who hardly knew each other at the start. I’m sure Jesus was there among us, and present in the bread and wine consecrated by the Holy Spirit and Ruth, yet at the same time, I felt Rome breathing down my neck, saying, “WE HAVE NOT SANCTIONED THIS. HOW DARE YOU GO AGAINST MOTHER CHURCH!”

It reminded me of the disciples running to Jesus and saying, “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us” (Mark 9.38) -- just change the pronoun's gender.

Ugh. If it wasn’t for Rome's rules, it would have been a perfect day.

Our kids enjoyed the experience of mass at Ruth’s, and told Ruth herself that they look forward to return visits. They don’t have their parents’ hesitations and hang ups when it comes to stepping outside of the boundaries set by Rome. My own struggle is not with the idea of women presiding – it’s that so far, the Holy Spirit hasn’t nudged the hierarchy to give Roman Catholic Women Priests full stature in the Church. The Church seems to be going the other way entirely, putting women's ordination on par with pedophilia as a grave sin (I wish it weren't so, but here's a link to a Time Magazine article.) Simply by the fact of her ordination, Ruth has suffered the Church's worst punishment -- being excommunicated -- even though she can trace apostolic succession right back to Christ through the laying on of hands, just like any other priest. But she clearly loves the Church, prays for it, and does what she does because of her love and her desire that it come to fullness in Christ. She IS faithful to the Catholic Church and has been all her life -- the only part of the pope’s teachings that she ignores is where it says that only men can be priests.

The more I think and study and pray and learn, the more I understand that Jesus didn't set out to be the founder of Catholicism, or even Christianity... those things just happened on their own (with some help from the Holy Spirit, whose true intentions are rarely fully followed by we imperfect human beings with our very human biases). That God loves us and wants relationship with us is what Jesus came to show us. Unfortunately, his followers make church about power and authority too much of the time. But as Henri Nouwen says in my Bread for the Journey daily reflections book on October 26th,

There is such an enormous hunger for meaning in life, for comfort and consolation, for forgiveness and reconciliation, for restoration and healing, that anyone who has any authority in the Church should constantly be reminded that the best word to characterize religious authority is compassion. Let's keep looking at Jesus whose authority was expressed in compassion.

I suspect that very compassion would rule out sexism if Jesus had his way. Sexism is an ugly thing wherever we find it in our world, and not, I'm convinced, what Jesus intended. Most of the other Christian churches have recognized this and made necessary changes already. I can't help but think how much richer the Catholic Church would be if everyone who discerns a true calling from God could share their priestly gifts within Christian community! As Ruth is doing. We certainly wouldn't be facing a shortage of time-pressured priests that forces our faith into mega-churches; rather, we would have a wealth of men and women connecting with a world of people hungry for God -- and I'm guessing that most people can find God more easily in intimate Christian communities than in a huge crowd of strangers.

As much as I loved mass at Ruth’s house, I won't turn my back on my little parish community, though I am praying that God’s calling of women to the priesthood in the Catholic Church will soon be as fully recognized as men’s vocations are. I'm delighted to see Ruth quietly answering God's call and living her vocation in her own way, even if it makes her persona non grata in the eyes of the hierarchy. I pray that the Holy Spirit will continue to work gently through the Roman Catholic Women Priests, and that it won't be long before they are called back into the arms of Rome, because when that happens, I think the Church will become much more welcoming and less narrow-minded -- it will become fully inclusive, and create a greater sense of community in the world through its wide compassion.

I was a little concerned that mass with a woman presiding would feel like “playing church,” but that wasn’t the case at all, and I am sure we will join Ruth again from time to time. Eucharist at Ruth’s was a simple, beautiful, and deep experience of God's love, and I came away wondering, for the second time that day, “what is the magisterium so afraid of?” But I suspect the real question is, “Is this the Holy Spirit’s quiet and gentle way of bringing about change, a few hearts at a time?”

God of Conscience, God of Courage, give us whatever grace we need to work for the coming of the reign of God now, here and always. Amen.

-From a prayer by Joan Chittister

Blessing one another

To bless means to say good things.  We have to bless one another constantly.  Parents need to bless their children, children their parents, husbands their wives, wives their husbands, friends their friends.  In our society, so full of curses, we must fill each place we enter with our blessings.  We forget so quickly that we are God's beloved children and allow the many curses of our world to darken our hearts.  Therefore we have to be reminded of our belovedness and remind others of theirs.  Whether the blessing is given in words or with gestures, in a solemn or an informal way, our lives need to be blessed lives.

Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey, September 7th

Have you been blessed lately? Are you reminded often enough of your belovedness? Do you remind others of theirs?

I've been extremely dizzy and quite nauseous these last days because the physio I'm doing for my imbalance seems to be making everything worse. Even so, I'm thinking about how blessed I am as I look at my still leaf picture and wear my prayer shawl, both gifts from people who are praying for me. My health issues are small in comparison to many, so I'm praying, too, for friends with different illnesses, particularly cancer, sending blessings their way.

Blessings come in so many different forms. A prayer, a phonecall, a hug, a letter, a kind word, a good deed. Those blessings that we give one another have been on my mind since I ran across this video about Woody Davis. I get the impression that he was pretty much the strong, silent type in his town, quietly blessing people before they even had a chance to notice. But when he was diagnosed with ALS, the shoe suddenly changed feet, and Woody was blessed in return. 

In a show I once saw, there was a song that told the story of a woman attending a funeral and being amazed at the floral arrangements. The chorus went something like, "Give me my flowers before I die." We're all called to bless, to show our love and appreciation before the special people in our lives aren't able to enjoy them. I'm happy to report that Woody Davis received the blessings of his community well before he died on August 5th.

This is a lovely little piece. Enjoy, and don't forget to spread some blessings! "Even angels like to know they've made a difference..."

Video from KarmaTube

Simple Suggestion #133... Write something

On a shelf in my basement sit two precious boxes. They're precious only to me, because they contain my life as I've written it. Dozens of journals, duotangs, notebooks and one diary -- see the small one with blue flowers on a black background? One of my classmates gave it to me in grade two. It's mostly empty, but it was the start of my written life.

I've been paying return visits to these boxes throughout the summer, because of a few anniversaries of different events in my past. Some of them were happy events, some quite painful... but they're all there, because I had an inexplicable need to write them down at the time. Sometimes I was just bursting with happiness, other times I was in depression, and there were many moments when I was just plain confused about something or other. There's a thick green one that's full of my thoughts and crushes as a teen. The turquoise book was my journal during my three years as an elementary school teacher. My romance with Lee is in a Hilroy Scribbler tucked in one of the fatter books. The one with the flowered still life contains a lot of my first year as a mother.

Some of them contain a me I'd rather forget, but a dear friend taught me a lesson when she tossed her journals into a fire pit, and now sometimes rues the day. Some of the entries among my writings are downright embarrassing now... those I'd gladly toss into a fire!... but others give me insight into the person I've become, or amaze me with their poetry, or their wisdom.

This has been a summer of dandelions -- those annoyingly tenacious plants that have taken over the front boulevarde of our yard -- so I was delighted to rediscover a poem I'd written for a friend who was going through his own rough patch:

Be like the dandelion, my friend,

Send roots deep into the 
earth of wisdom

Show the sunny colours 
of a smile to those you meet

Spread seeds of friendship
and understanding to all corners

Stake a tenacious claim
on the truths of life and love

Remember: There will always be dandelions. 
God loves all of creation.

It's not a masterpiece, I know, but I still like it. Dandelions are a force of nature, and so are we, especially when we can get past the frustrations and struggles in our own lives and still have a hand to lend to those around us who might need it.

I'm so glad that I recorded the dandelion poem in one of my journals before I gave it to my friend. I wonder, what other forgotten gems are in my two writing boxes? Perhaps this winter I'll take the time to read, and embrace once again the person I've been up til now, embarrassing or not.

Henri Nouwen wrote many journals and reflections that, fortunately for us, have been published (I wouldn't want mine to be!) and I particularly like the one below, that I saved for this occasion:

The word must become flesh, but the flesh also must become word.  It is not enough for us, as human beings, just to live. We also must give words to what we are living.  If we do not speak what we are living, our lives lose their vitality and creativity. When we see a beautiful view, we search for words to express what we are seeing. When we meet a caring person, we want to speak about that meeting.  When we are sorrowful or in great pain, we need to talk about it. When we are surprised by joy, we want to announce it! 

Through the word, we appropriate and internalize what we are living.  The word makes our experience truly human.

-- Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey, June 24

This week's Simple Suggestion is one that anyone can do, any time. Even those who don't think of themselves as writers can express what they think, or pen a line about a special person they met, or record their joys for a rainy day.

What will you write today?

Looking for more Simple Suggestions? Try here.

A healthy dose of downward mobility, please

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 the rewards of money and fame. 

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 to the Kingdom, the way Jesus took, and the way that brings everlasting life.

--Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey, June 28

Henri Nouwen's got me thinking, again. He gets me thinking every morning when I check my email and find one of his little thoughts in my inbox. But yesterday's stopped me in my tracks. Downward mobility! Brilliant thought!

In a world where the divide between rich and poor continues to widen and our environment is fighting a losing battle, it would help if the idea of downward mobility took hold. The push to keep profits rising and growth increasing has made for more trouble than the EU Summit knows how to handle, and has created huge debts at every level -- from the international to our own back yards. It has wreaked havoc on our planet's limited resources, and on our happiness as human beings. The pressure to be always upwardly mobile has created stresses that mean even children are having panic attacks these days, and families don't have time for each other. It makes me sigh.

It's silly, all of it. Who came up with this idea that there always has to be more, bigger, faster, snazzier ways to live? It's just not good for us, body, mind or soul to be always scrabbling to get to the top of the heap! Most of us could do with a healthy dose of Nouwen's downward mobility, also known as humility, because when we try to exalt ourselves above others, the opportunities for joy and belonging evaporate like the water in a birdbath on a hot summer day. And the planet is desecrated, and relationships fail, and the push for materialism to fill spiritual gaps means the cycle just perpetuates itself.

But Jesus and all wise spiritual leaders chose a different way. Jesus' disciples were waiting for him to be a king, but he was busy showing them that what was really important wasn't money and fame -- it was love. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and mind, and love your neighbour as you love yourself. Pretty simple, and not a peep about upward mobility!

After years of living in the limelight as a sought-after spiritual writer and speaker, Henri Nouwen chose the path of downward mobility, living his last years with L'Arche Daybreak in Toronto, Ontario. He discovered the joy of being with people who loved him not for his accomplishments, but for being Henri, their friend and companion. His thoughts about that time make up some of his most moving writings, and underline the beauty and value of relationship with people with disabilities. They love us as we are, and that's a beautiful thing!

What really strikes me about Nouwen's words today is the everlasting life part. I look around our planet and see way too much everlasting death coming from upward mobility. However, if I can stick to Jesus' basic message about love, and love everyone and everything around me, destruction and death aren't a part of the equation at all, except in the natural cycle of life. Why can't the everlasting life of our beautiful planet for generations to come be something for which to strive? And rather than use the word Kingdom, why not substitute the word joy, as in the joy of belonging to and caring for one another? That kind of joy can be here and now if we so choose.

The happiest moments of my life have been those when I have had the opportunity to embrace or be embraced by nature, beauty, and people who love me. Those are moments of everlasting life, little bits of heaven, of the kingdom, if you prefer, of joy because I replay them over and over in my mind with a smile on my face, or tell stories about them, or look for moments like them every day. Ten p.m. rainbows included!

Life's joy comes not from being upwardly mobile, but from living in harmony and love with God's creation, and belonging to each other as God's human family. Really, that's what we all seek in our lives, believers or not. And, as Henri Nouwen says, some downward mobility would probably help!

Contentment

Okay, so ambitionlessness isn't a word. But contentment definitely is. After reading the comments on my last post, I was reminded of this story. There are several versions of it on Youtube, but this is my favourite, just because I like the music, and the narrator doesn't have an annoying voice.

I suppose we all define success in different ways... but I get the feeling that too many of us let the lifestyles of the Rich and Famous dictate to us what success looks like. And that false ideal makes us unhappy because we'll never look like those celebrities on the Golden Globe catwalk. We won't have their fabulous possessions and piles of money. We won't receive the applause and adulation that they do... 

But really, who is happier? The folks who run from the papparazzi, or the ones who read their magazines? The mom who kisses her kids goodnight, or the actor on a film set in Paris, far away from family? My husband with his reliable commuter car, or the sports celebrity with so many vehicles that he can't count them all? The musician who sings on a different stage every night, or the teenager bopping down the street, sharing her iPod earbuds with her best friend? I guess it all depends on how you define happiness and success.

For a while there, after I started my moodlings, I thought it would be great if I could have a huge crowd of followers from all over the world to indicate that I was a successful blogger. I read accounts of how other people became famous in the blogworld, and I looked at popular blogsites to see if I could pick up any tricks or tips. There were plenty of people offering all sorts of advice about everything to do with increasing readership... most of which suggested following other people's blogs and commenting on them, so that they would look up my moodlings and comment in return, all of which seemed silly and meant spending way more time in front of my computer. 

Which is the last thing I want to do, because it's totally counter to living simply and happily according to my definition, and the fisherman's definition. Why catch more fish than you can eat and share with your neighbours? Why try to attract readers I don't know, when the ones I do know visit me now and then?

I wrote most of this moodling yesterday... then this morning, Henri Nouwen's daily reflection arrives in my inbox, another one of those God-incidences:

Often we want to be somewhere other than where we are, or even to be someone other than who we are. We tend to compare ourselves constantly with others and wonder why we are not as rich, as intelligent, as simple, as generous, or as saintly as they are. Such comparisons make us feel guilty, ashamed, or jealous. It is very important to realize that our vocation is hidden in where we are and who we are. We are unique human beings, each with a call to realize in life what nobody else can, and to realize it in the concrete context of the here and now.

We will never find our vocations by trying to figure out whether we are better or worse than others. We are good enough to do what we are called to do. Be yourself!

Just being myself and living in contentment is very freeing. I think I'll go and read some more Don Quixote now. It's actually quite entertaining.

Another year a-comin'

So here we are, on the verge of 2012, when only a minute ago, we were on the verge of 2011. Time speeds up as I age -- or maybe it's just taking me longer to do as many things as I used to, so it seems I have less time. Time flies when we're having fun, and when we're slowing down!

For me, 2011 has been a time of realizing that, while I'm not old, I'm definitely not as young as I used to be!  Two things have brought me to a more serious awareness of my middle age -- having an eighteen year old child as of yesterday (which today I'm realizing has a bonus feature... there's someone to share a bottle of wine with now and then!) and the fact that my recent dizziness issues have meant that there are a lot of things I suddenly can't do with the speed and grace I used to possess.

I have come to the end of 2011 with a deep love and appreciation for a husband who uncomplainingly does the grocery shopping and laundry because those jobs make my head too spinny, for family and friends who have driven me around because I can't drive myself, for my girls who have (mostly) taken over the kitchen duties, and for people who have called or dropped by just to lift my spirits.

Then today, some words of Henri Nouwen drop into my inbox:

Imagine all that effort [to defend ourselves against each other, to maintain or increase our power, and to safeguard our own privileged position] being put in the service of peace and reconciliation!  Would there be any poverty?  Would there be crimes and wars?  Just imagine that there was no longer fear among people, no longer any rivalry, hostility, bitterness, or revenge.  Just imagine all the people on this planet holding hands and forming one large circle of love.   We say, "I can't imagine."  But God says,  "That's what I imagine, a whole world not only created but also living in my image."

As 2011 comes to a close, I give thanks for you, my friends and family, and the way I see you living in God's image, and I pray that living simply, in peace and reconciliation, can be our greatest gift to the world in this new year a-comin'. May we, and our communities, continue to grow in love!

Being sisters and brothers of nature

Have you noticed that the weather is getting to be less and less predictable? Sometimes I get the feeling that our sciences, maths, probabilities and meteorological indicators are stories we tell to convince ourselves that everything is "normal." I keep wondering... if our polar icecaps are melting, where is all that water going to go? We've sure got a lot of snow this season... and people in Brisbane and Brazil aren't doing so hot with their homes destroyed by water or mud. Freak occurrences, or part of what's now called Global Climate Change?

We'll never really know because so many variables are at play, but I have my suspicions. And my suspicions lead me to believe that it's time human beings woke up and paid more attention to things that are happening, rather than trying to explain them away. The calendar on my wall this month quotes Ekhard Tolle: "To awaken within the dream is our purpose now." In North America, we've been dreaming that the earth will always be able to supply our every need and satisfy our every whim. We've dreamed until a lot of Earth's species and resources have disappeared because of us, and now it's starting to look as if Nature is about to revolt. Who can blame her? We certainly haven't been very good stewards in our twin quests for luxury and convenience. Personally, I could handle a lot less of both if it would mean fewer disruptions in the health of our planet.

For too long, we've been taking the easy way out. We've lost touch with so many of the processes that allow us to live. It wasn't that long ago that we grew our own food, built our own homes, and worked with our hands to provide for ourselves and our communities, and we were much healthier for it. We didn't have to worry about diets or exercise because both were balanced and integral parts of our daily lives. We knew how to make do, and we lived in solidarity with each other, rather than in competition to see who had the most or best of everything.

We can't go back in time, but we can return to our roots. It's high time we start to consider ourselves to be sisters and brothers of nature and forget all that biblical bosh about "filling the earth and subduing it." We need to wake from the dream that we are in charge and that every homeowner must have their own fill-in-the-blank. We need to get on with living lightly, with using as few of Earth's resources as possible, and remembering that we aren't the pinnacle of God's creation, but just a small part of it. I expect that God loves everything created, right down to the tiniest amoeba, and our challenge is to live in harmony with it all.  Henri Nouwen hits the nail on the head when he says:

When we think of oceans and mountains, forests and deserts, trees, plants and animals, the sun, the moon, the stars, and all the galaxies, as God's creation, waiting eagerly to be "brought into the same glorious freedom as the children of God" (Roman 8:21), we can only stand in awe of God's majesty and God's all- embracing plan of salvation. It is not just we, human beings, who wait for salvation in the midst of our suffering; all of creation groans and moans with us longing to reach its full freedom.

In this way we are indeed brothers and sisters not only of all other men and women in the world but also of all that surrounds us. Yes, we have to love the fields full of wheat, the snowcapped mountains, the roaring seas, the wild and tame animals, the huge redwoods, and the little daisies. Everything in creation belongs, with us, to the large family of God.      Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey, December 9th

God's dream is so much bigger than ours. It's time to wake and live God's dream. My seed catalogue arrived last week. I'm going to cooperate with God's dream today by ordering seeds to grow this year's vegetables to help feed my family.

What's your plan to live God's dream today?

Thanksgiving for the gift of friendship

Today my friend came to join me for lunch at work. She's one of those friends who is more than an acquaintance, one I can call a kindred spirit or soul mate because we are able to talk about things at a deeper-than-surface level. Not all of the people I call friends would be comfortable eating lunch across the table from two people with disabilities, one of whom won't eat unless everything is slathered in ketchup! I also appreciate the fact that my friend isn't a stand-offish sort who waits for introductions, but takes an immediate interest in the people around her and introduces herself. She's a low-maintenance-and-high-satisfaction-kind-of-friend.

Today my inbox holds more wonderful words from Henri Nouwen:

Friendship is one of the greatest gifts a human being can receive. It is a bond beyond common goals, common interests, or common histories. It is a bond stronger than sexual union can create, deeper than a shared fate can solidify, and even more intimate than the bonds of marriage or community. Friendship is being with the other in joy and sorrow, even when we cannot increase the joy or decrease the sorrow. It is a unity of souls that gives nobility and sincerity to love. Friendship makes all of life shine brightly. Blessed are those who lay down their lives for their friends.

Today I offer a little prayer of thanksgiving for the friend who had lunch with me, for my high school friends, for my Winnipeg friend in Simplicity, and my San Antonio cousin friend in Theology, for my childhood-and-everything-since friend in Duncan, BC, my furthest friend in Germany, my groupees, my sisters, and sisters-in-law and my parents and parents-in-law. Life certainly wouldn't be as bright without friends!

Who makes your life shine more brightly?

Gratitude and a celebration of new beginnings

Happy New Year!

It's my tradition to go to church on New Year's morning, before most of my family is awake. This morning I took my six-block solitary walk through very quiet neighbourhoods, thanking God for all the blessings of the past year. I didn't reach the end of my list of things for which I am grateful before I reached the church.

The readings on January 1st are always the same, and perfect for starting a new year. God tells Moses to bless his people with the words we sing to our girls every night before bed:

May the Lord bless you and watch over you,
may the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you,
may the Lord look kindly on you and give you peace.

The Psalm (67) repeats these themes and asks that God's way be known upon the earth, that people live under God's guidance, in equity.

I've been thinking a lot about equity of late. Last week I read Paulo Coelho's The Winner Stands Alone (Harper 2009, ISBN 9780061750441) in which the author spends a lot of time musing on fame, wealth and power and their tendencies to make everyone unhappy. He points out how human striving to be special or to stand out from the crowd leads the glitterati (or Superclass, as he calls them) to fight for their youth, beauty, strength, and wealth to the point where, if they want to remain "on top," they cannot trust anyone but themselves. In the meantime, people who aren't so driven are happy with little more than having their loved ones near.

Henri Nouwen, one of my favourite spiritual writers (whose website link I'll add to the sidebar today) left the following as his December 31st spiritual reflection:

So much of our energy, time, and money goes into maintaining distance from one another. Many if not most of the resources of the world are used to defend ourselves against each other, to maintain or increase our power, and to safeguard our own privileged position.

Imagine all that effort being put in the service of peace and reconciliation! Would there be any poverty? Would there be crimes and wars? Just imagine that there was no longer fear among people, no longer any rivalry, hostility, bitterness, or revenge. Just imagine all the people on this planet holding hands and forming one large circle of love. We say, "I can't imagine." But God says, "That's what I imagine, a whole world not only created but also living in my image."

So, here we are, at the beginning of 2011, celebrating the beginning of a new year. What if we spend this year being grateful for what we have instead of wishing things were different? What if we make it a year of peace and reconciliation? What if we put all rivalry aside and live in equity, sharing what we have? Imagine the possibilities!

Let's do it... and have a truly Happy New Year!

Why I have chosen a life of Voluntary Simplicity

How do we live in creation? Do we relate to it as a place full of "things" we can use for whatever need we want to fulfill and whatever goal we wish to accomplish? Or do we see creation first of all as a sacramental reality, a sacred space where God reveals to us the immense beauty of the Divine?

As long as we only use creation, we cannot recognise its sacredness because we are approaching it as if we are its owners. But when we relate to all that surrounds us as created by the same God who created us and as the place where God appears to us and calls us to worship and adoration, then we are able to recognise the sacred quality of all God's handiwork.                        

Henri Nouwen,  Bread for the Journey, September 23. 

This is one of my favourite quotes from Henri Nouwen, a great Catholic thinker and writer. Nouwen has written many wonderful books, and there's a website that offers daily Nouwen reflections (http://www.henrinouwen.org/). This is today's reflection, one I have used often in Voluntary Simplicity study circles, one of the things I do in my "spare time" now and then. 

In 1936, Richard Gregg, a follower of Mahatma Ghandi, wrote the following explanation of Voluntary Simplicity:

Voluntary simplicity involves both inner and outer condition. It means singleness of purpose, sincerity and honesty within, as well as avoidance of exterior clutter, of many possessions irrelevant to the chief purpose of life. It means an ordering and guiding of our energy and our desires, a partial restraint in some directions in order to secure greater abundance of life in other directions. It involves a deliberate organization of life for a purpose. (Quoted in Mark A. Burch's book, Stepping Lightly: Simplicity for people and the planet. (2000, ISBN 0-86571-423-1) pp. 9-10.

My attempts to organize my life for the past five years have to do with my view of creation as a sacramental reality, though if it weren't for Henri Nouwen, I probably wouldn't have such perfect words to express that. I see creation as God's greatest gift to us, and cringe at daily news reports about the ways human beings are desecrating that creation. I happen to agree with David Suzuki that the human race is one of the greatest "forces of nature" at the moment, and that the force we are exerting on our fragile ecosphere's air, soil and water is, for the most part, dangerous, thoughtless and severely short-sighted. Human beings have lived for a long time believing that the planet is large enough to accomodate all our consumeristic foibles, but it's becoming more and more obvious that this isn't the case when we look at scientific evidence around things like Hurricane Katrina, recent droughts in Asia and Africa, present flooding in Pakistan, and the relatively rapid disappearance of glaciers and polar icecaps.

The aboriginal populations of our planet understand better than most of us that creation isn't ours to own or use. The guys who wrote the Bible really messed up when they gave God the words, "Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth" (Gen. 1.28, NRSV translation). I'm pretty sure God didn't mean "subdue it" in the way we have. I can't imagine that God is very happy that the fish and the indigenous populations who live downstream from our famous Alberta Oilsands have all sorts of tumours and other bodily disruptions. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to determine that it's unfair when 20% of the planet's population is using up 80% of the earth's resources. It isn't hard to figure out that if everyone lived as I do (with two cars and a 1400 sq ft bungalow), we'd need another nine planets to hold our present population.

Something's gotta give, and those of us who choose Voluntary Simplicity are volunteering to "give" as best we can. For the past five years, our family has been trying to downsize our life by doing things that use less of the earth's resources. When I see the cluttered corners in my basement, I know I'm not terribly successful at it yet, but I'm not adding to the clutter, at least, and I'm doing everything I can think of to opt out of consumerism and the sense of entitlement that comes with living in an affluent society. The fewer resources I use, the better for God's creation. I'm also encouraging others to do the same (though heaven knows it's not easy with three fashion maven daughters...)

In the spring, I posted this little video to Youtube to show some of the things we do to live more simply. (Other stuff like it can be seen at http://www.youtube.com/user/lmkrusze ). The sound track is kinda goofy because I was juggling papers and microphone and computer and stereo (and the phone kept ringing so I had to start over three times and was feeling a bit hoarse until I got it "in the can.") But it gives you an idea of life here, and the things we do to live more in harmony with God's sacred handiwork.