Sunday Reflection: I thank my God

An anniversary bouquet
from the grandkids

Today's reflection is brought to you by

Philippians 1: 3-5.

This past week, my amazing and wonderful parents celebrated 60 years of marriage. My sisters found a statistic saying that only four percent of couples make it that far... and indeed, a few times during this past year, the idea of them reaching 60 years was a bit iffy due to health issues. 

But through determination and effort, they have rebuilt their stamina, and we just enjoyed a week's worth of little events to mark their marriage. They're a rare pair indeed -- best friends, great parents, solid business partners, and kind-hearted, generous and welcoming folks who have more children than just us three daughters.

Mom and Dad, this one's for you:

Whenever you come into my thoughts 

I give thanks to my Creator.

I always pray with a glad heart

when I send up prayers for you,

because from the first day [of my life]

we have walked side by side

in the telling of the good story.

I have no doubts

that the one who set your feet

on this good path

will keep walking it with you

until the day that Creator Sets Free

(Jesus) The Chosen One appears...

-- Philippians 1:3-6,

First Nations Version: 

An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament 

(Downer's Grove IL: InterVarsity Press 2021, ISBN 978-0-8308-1350-6).

May Creator continue to bless you,

Dad and Mom,

with good health, joy, peace, and togetherness.

+Amen

Giving thanks

Yesterday at Community of Emmanuel, during our Sunday Thanksgiving service, I was suddenly struck by the strongest sense of gratitude for the community's presence in my life. 

For the blessing of a sage smudge to start the service.

For Jake, who shares small snippets from his life -- this week, his frustration at having to buy a construction safety hat for a job that only lasted a day and only paid three hours.

For Mary-Joy, whose well-worn bible is a constant presence -- and reference.

For Bruce, who brings coffee to Lydia, one of our 90+ year old matriarchs, when he gets his own tea.

For Sister Florence, whose gentle, listening presence and smile is a calming influence for our community.

For Henry, who sometimes falls asleep on the counter where he sits.

For Annie, coffee-maker extraordinaire, who knows everyone and watches out for us all.

For Mary-Lou, who has more go than the energizer bunny when it comes to serving coffee.

For Farley, his philosophical wisdom and soothing music.

For Michelle, whose Standing Stones services and sharing of Indigenous wisdom always have me nodding my head in affirmation of teachings older than Christianity.

For Jim, who keeps an eye on the front door in case of latecomers or people in need.

For Quinn and his un-wordy liturgies that collect all our prayers simply and beautifully.

For simple communion, offered to all, no questions asked.

For volunteers who help us pass out the second communion of coffee and lunch bags after the service.

In looking around and appreciating all these folks, I got choked up and lost my voice for the last couple of lines to the hymn that closed the service:

I will go Lord, if you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart.

There is so much to be thankful for in my life -- my parents, sisters, husband, kids, friends, my dream job at the Winspear Centre for music (Friday night's performance was incredible!), our garden, our home, good health, the list goes on.

But in struggling with the church of my childhood and its exclusivity over the last few years, I was deeply moved by the people of the Community of Emmanuel at the end of Sunday's service, and deeply grateful for how Creator led me to this place that has welcomed me so deeply. 

Thank you, God, for everything.

+Amen

P.S. What are you grateful for today?

Sunday Reflection: Thanksgiving pants

You know,

O God,

how I've been struggling

to believe

that you are there

and care for every individual, 

for every so-called sparrow 

that falls.

Are you just

a story we tell ourselves

to feel better

in the face of hard realities?

I have been feeling that way

a lot lately

because of many things.

And then

a young woman is found 

shivering under a blanket,

naked,

on our back step of

the Community of Emmanuel,

the community where you-are-with-us

this Thanksgiving morning,

Our pastor asks me 

to be present with her 

on the very day

that I have finally brought along

a pair of pants

that was too long for me

but hemmed too short,

pants

that were forgotten 

in the back corner of my dresser drawer

for at least two years.

Which, 

of course,

fit her perfectly.

Random occurrence

or God-incidence?

I'm told

that belief in you 

is in my DNA,

but lately,

it's been a challenge

to believe it.

Thank you

for today's more tangible reminders,

and the little nudge of the Spirit

that made me turn back 

(though I was running late)

for those perfectly fitted pants for her

even before anyone knew she was there.

Thank you for life, 

its struggles and challenges

and these serendipities

that seem to say

you are there

in spite of my doubts.

+Amen.

'Glad to be Alive' Day

We often don't think about our deaths until we meet with situations that could take our lives. We go through our days always expecting that there will be a tomorrow, and are shocked to hear when tomorrow doesn't come for people we know, when they die suddenly. Often a surprising, sudden death helps us to be more grateful for our life, at least until we are lulled back into believing that there will always be a tomorrow for us on this side of the grass.

Thirty years ago today, I was travelling with a performing group in Eastern Canada when the tour bus I was in rolled down an under-construction embankment in the Laurentians. I remember the bus tipping to the left, and suddenly feeling like my friends and I were bouncing around in a dryer drum. Unlike many other similar accidents in the famed hills of Quebec, we came out relatively unscathed because our trip to the bottom was just two revolutions. Sadly, our bus driver later died of complications related to his injuries, and one of our cast mates with a fractured skull had to leave the group due to migraines. The rest of us escaped with minor fractures, cuts and bruises, and were mostly just traumatized. To this day, some of my friends report a hesitancy to climb aboard a bus.

Ever since that day thirty years ago, October 5th has been my personal 'Glad to be Alive' Day. It's a good exercise, now and then, to remember that tomorrow isn't guaranteed. As I was moodling the paragraphs above, I received word that a woman I exchanged a smile and a few words with at a local election rally the night before last died suddenly yesterday morning. She looked perfectly healthy when I gave her my written question for the candidates. Her family and friends are reeling, I'm sure. They are on my mind and heart today, too, and in my prayers.

We just never know when our time might be up. If we could really be aware of the gift of life all the time, every day would be 'Glad to be Alive' Day. But living in that kind of awareness takes more effort than seems humanly possible. I try to remember to be thankful for my life every morning when I open my eyes, but too often, the dog's whine for breakfast or some other life event gets in the way of that train of thought. That's why I make an effort to have my annual designated day on October 5th every year because of the bus accident.

Do you have a 'Glad to be Alive' Day?

Blessed rain

I was ready to whip out the Charlotte Diamond CD my kids listened to when they were little... "I'm ready for, you're ready for, we're ready for... the puddles!" The rain this morning was so beautiful! Our rain barrels are full, things are popping out of the soil, and the robins are singing. My daughters went out and danced in the rain last night. I said many, "Thank You"s to God. Nothing like God watering everything instead of my garden hose -- her and his watering is so much more thorough! And the water isn't chlorinated.

I don't want to seem ungrateful, but we could use more. Suzanna and I took a walk at noon to take puddle pictures, and there were hardly any puddles to be found. The ground is so dry, it soaked everything up already. And up north, where wildfires are raging, they're praying for the snow that's blanketing the western part of the province.

So if you have a spare prayer, please keep me company in praying for the firefighters who have been going steady since May 1st, and for the families who are waiting to return home to Fort McMurray.

Thank you God, for the rain you've given. Please send more to the places that need it most.

+Amen.

A Psalm for a New Year

image courtesy of Yahoo

Last night we went out to Elk Island National Park for New Year's Eve, and as I stood in the snow looking up at some pretty spectacular Aurora Borealis flaming across the sky, a psalm started forming in my heart.

In the tradition of Edward Hays, one of my favourite authors, I offer it to you as a prayerful start to 2016.

Happy New Year!


A New Year's Psalm

We praise you, O God,
for new beginnings --
fresh footprintless fields with unplanned paths,
clear calendars and unwritten words,
unperceived passages and paths that we will discover in the year ahead.

We thank you for the year that has passed
with its many challenges, loves and losses,
its ups and downs.
We offer you our joys and sorrows from the last twelve months
and ask that you bless us and heal us as needed.

We invite you to become our home
in the twelve months ahead,
to be our refuge, joy and strength
in all the twists and turns of life that we cannot foresee.

In the days to come,
bring your justice and peace into our world through our actions.
Make us mindful of the difference we can make.
Help us to love as you love, without reserve.
Please be gracious to us and bless us
so that we may also bless those you send into our lives,
especially those most in need of blessing.
Make our hearts like yours in the year ahead, O Lover of all,
and bless your world with the kind of peace that is found in love.

We exult and rejoice in your presence with us
and trust in your goodness to us.
Let your face shine on us and on all of your creation in this New Year,
for you are our courage and our hope.

From the rising of the sun to its setting
and all the moments in between
we praise you,
God of life.

+Amen.

Giving Thanks in Canada

It's Canadian Thanksgiving weekend. I like that it falls early in October, when the harvest of gardens and fields is almost done, and we are most aware of God's abundance. This early in the season, we also don't get sucked into the immediate Christmas shopping frenzy of our friends who celebrate at the end of November. That makes it easier to see that we have so much for which to be thankful!

Today I'm thankful for one last bouquet of summer flowers, and time with family. How about you?

Monday, October 13, 9 p.m.

When my girls were little, sometimes we would stop in at the church a few blocks from home and whisper thank you prayers. Today mine would go something like this:

Thank you, God, for all the sunshine this weekend.
Thank you for the stars we saw at Elk Island on Friday night, and for the quiet, and for the way the moon came up through the trees.
Thank you, God, for the yellow leaves that are falling everywhere, and that made a huge and perfect pile for my newly-met neighbours Isabelle (3) and Zoe (2) to jump in this afternoon.
Thank you for fresh-out-of-the-garden carrots. Gallons and gallons of them. Sweet, crisp and juicy.
Thank you, God, for Lee, and all his work at helping to put the garden to bed.
Thank you for our neighbours, and their back yard firepit as a neighbourhood meeting place.
Thank you, God, for music. And tulip bulbs to plant so there will be delight in springtime.
Thank you for the fun we had taking family pictures yesterday!
Thank you, God, for the excellent thanksgiving supper last night (which featured melt-in-your mouth Alberta beef instead of turkey, and backyard vegetables and herbs. Oh, and pumpkin and apple pies)!
Thank you for this much-needed weekend and the rest it afforded us.

You are too kind and generous to us. Help us to pay it forward, always.

+AMEN.

A Sunday Simple Suggestion (#181)... Develop your own gratitude practice

This weekend is Thanksgiving in Canada. Unlike our American friends down south, we have it in October, perhaps because our growing season is shorter up here, and harvest is usually finished (or nearly so) by the second weekend of the month. We gather to enjoy our produce, our families and friends, and to give thanks for the abundance with which we have been blessed by a gracious God.

"Thanksgiving begins where my sense of entitlement ends," says the signboard on the Mennonite Church on the corner... and it's so true. When we stop and really think about it, we are not entitled to anything. When we arrive on the planet, we have done nothing to deserve anything. As we grow, we learn and progress as human beings, but would that be the case if we didn't have the abundance of resources the earth provides? Air, warmth, light, water, shelter, food, clothing -- we cannot create these out of our imaginations. We depend on each other, on our planet's resources, and, whether we believe or not, on the Creator of everything.

I've had a rule not to make any Simple Suggestions on Sundays, except for today. This weekend I'm inviting my readers to celebrate Thanksgiving by starting a gratitude practice.

My parents started one for my kids on a camping trip. When it was time for night prayers, they said the girls' usual prayers with them, and then invited them to name one thing from their day for which they were grateful... and it stuck. We don't say night prayers together very often anymore, but when we do, we all name at least one thing for which we thank God.

I learned not long ago that my eldest daughter also had a gratitude box under her bed, into which she put slips of paper to remind her of "grateful moments" in her life. I have a journal in which I often write about my own "grateful moments." (I had a special one this past week, which you'll read about on Tuesday, I promise.) It really doesn't take much to get into the habit of being thankful.

As much as we've been brainwashed into turkey and all the trimmings, Thanksgiving isn't about those incidentals. So why not counter consumer culture with a smaller Thanksgiving feast -- and more gratitude? Today's challenge is to start your own practice (choose your own frequency) of thanksgiving.

I know I've posted this song (several times) before, but I can't help myself this time of year. To all my Canadian Moodlings followers, a Happy Thanksgiving!

P.S. Looking for more Simple Suggestions? Click here.

Good bye, Ruby's house: thoughts on impermanence

As I typed the title above, the Stones' Ruby Tuesday started playing in my head... but the Ruby I'm thinking about wasn't of that era at all. She was another wonderful back-alley-neighbour who lived next door to Back-Alley Mary, whom I've gone on about at length. Mary and Ruby were the best of friends besides being good neighbours. I have fond memories of their laughter from one or the other's back yard on a summer's evening. I got to know Ruby a little during the summer that she let me use part of her garden to grow tomatoes. She lived very simply, and was a delightful friend.

Unfortunately, the following summer, Ruby, who was 97 at the time, fell down her back stairs. The bathroom in her house was in the basement, and she misjudged a step on the way down one night. She and Mary had a system -- when Mary, who was 25 years younger, got up in the morning, she would look over at Ruby's bedroom window to be sure the blind was up. If not, Mary would take her key and go over to check on Ruby. That morning, Mary had to call 911.

Luckily, Ruby hadn't broken anything, but returning home wasn't something the medical professionals could see in her case, and she reluctantly admitted that those stairs had gotten to be too much for her. Fortunately, after a relatively brief stay at the Leduc hospital, Ruby and her cat were able to move into a senior's residence that allowed Sunny the Siamese to stay with his owner until Ruby passed away in June. She was 102. Mary and I helped Ruby's niece, June, clear out the basement when Ruby left the house five years ago, and I inherited a barrel of preserve jars for which I thank Ruby every autumn. She also left me her "Little Rube" -- a variety of small red tomato that I grow every year in her honour.

Ruby's 600 sq. ft. (56 sq. m) house was purchased by a couple who rented it out for the last five years, and who spent their time making plans for a new two-storey home to house themselves and their son's young family on the lot. They consulted with the neighbours so that we would know of their plans, jumped through all the hoops set out by the City, and had all the trees on the lot cut down, sigh. Last Friday, Ruby's little old house, which was built perhaps 70 years ago by my old gentleman neighbour, Bob, was knocked flat in less than a half hour. I went out to watch and say my own little goodbye, only to find a whole group of neighbours standing in the alley, doing the same.

I found it a bit shocking to watch the house go down. For the ten years I've lived here, Ruby's place was a given. My neighbours have known it much longer than that. In less than a half hour, it was gone.

I don't know about you, but I find that kind of change to be a wake-up call. It's so easy to think that our homes, our possessions, our little corners of the world are permanent, but it only took a few moments for a backhoe to flatten the house that I will always associate with Ruby. 

Nothing is permanent. Even the mountains are eroding. I'm sure Ruby would agree that a life of 102 years passes in the blink of an eye. When you think about it, it's kind of silly to collect a ton of stuff when we are anything but permanent.

So, while we have a place on this planet, let's not clutter it up. And let's give some thanks.

Beauty from holidays on a Sunday

Looking up at a clear, blue, Friday morning sky as I sipped my coffee in our campsite, I thanked God for this amazing world, that I could take a four-day camping vacation this summer in the mountains that I love, and that my family and friends are mostly well and happy (though there are some for whom I pray daily...)

Two hours later, we drove through a valley that had been devastated by a wildfire ten years ago, amazed at the slopes covered in purple fireweed, and the regrowth of new forest. In the midst of burnt out trees, life was taking hold again. We marveled at it even more when we toured a beautiful canyon where a rushing blue glacial river roared down a narrow gorge. Nature is amazing, and so is the life we've all been given, if only we can see its outrageous beauty. It's easy to notice beauty in the wilderness, but it can be a bit trickier to find in the people around me every day. Still, it is there, if I look with my heart in the right place...

Who or what has made you catch your breath in wonder, delight and gratitude this summer?

Simple Suggestion #165... Have a simple birthday

That's what I'm doing today. More than half of my own little family is missing in action (two in Moscow, one off on a school band trip), and I have a wicked spring cold. So a simple birthday is in order.

Actually, it would still be in order even if everything else was as usual. Simple celebrations that cost the planet nothing are the best. Can you remember your birthday gifts from the last 10 years running? Neither can I. But I do remember being with my family and friends for most of them.

Presence is better than presents. In my books, no gifts are necessary (though my Auntie Bernie gave me a mango, my neighbour Mary Anne gave me a sea holly plant for my garden and a lovely bouquet of lilacs, and my travelers threw me a little party with a cake -- and gave me an iPod of all things -- before they flew the coop).

But today is simpler -- I'm opting to celebrate my date of arrival on this planet by naming one gift for which I am grateful for each year that I've been alive, in no particular order:

My parents
My sisters
My multitude of relatives -- inlaws and outlaws!
Lee, my marvelous man
Lee's family (inlaws, outlaws, nieces and nephews)
Our delightful daughters
My dream home (in which I am living)
The garden which delights me to no end
My neighbourhood (even prettier today than yesterday)
My neighbours and friends, near and far
Pebbles the crazy budgie
Shadow the crazy puppy
Our bed and blankets
My guitar
Music
All my musician friends
Sunlight
Rain and other precipitation
Four very different seasons
Our girls' school
Teachers
Doctors and nurses
Edmonton
Its river valley
Trees
Public transportation
Hiking trails
Bicycles
Camping
Chocolate
Fresh air
Hugs and all that
Letters
Beer
Rock 'n' roll
Operas
Art galleries
Horses
Books and book clubs
Boats
Peanut butter
God
Languages
Roman Catholic Women Priests
Naps
Carousels
Babies
Dancing and singing

Okay, so that's not a complete list by any means, and there are a few more there than years I've actually been around, but once I get started, it's hard to stop. What a wonderful life I have!

Thanks, Mom, Dad, and God, for giving it to me!

P.S. Looking for more Simple Suggestions? Click here.

A Sunday daydream...

As I sat in church on a Sunday morning two years ago, listening to religious language that gave God only one gender and excluded the full participation of 50% of the human race (and would only get worse with the new translation of the Roman Missal), an oft-recurring daydream came to me for the first time...

People come to the church on a Sunday morning, but rather than going into the building, all of the women stay together on the steps and sidewalk outside. One of them brings a guitar, another sets up a small table, two more bring earthenware chalices, and several young girls pass out song books. As mass begins inside the church, the women outside, young and old, raise their voices in joyous song to begin a liturgy that includes femininity along with the masculine.

Inside the church, the men conclude their opening hymn, as the final verse of the women's song wafts into the church, sweet and clear. The men look at one another, confused. Some of them frown, but a dozen or so (who have daughters and wives who have made them well aware of the sin of sexism) smile and slip out the door to join the women.

The Roman Catholic woman priest invites her congregation to begin with the same sign of the cross as the men inside, only with inclusive words that speak of the All-Holy Mystery: "In the name of God, Source of All Being, Eternal Word and Holy Spirit," and the women (and the few men who have joined them) respond with reverence and enthusiasm. They sing Glory to God, scripture is loudly and joyfully proclaimed from the top of the church steps, and as three women sing the verses of the psalm in gorgeous harmony, a few more men and their sons trickle out of the church to pray with their wives, daughters, mothers, and sisters.

After the Gospel reading, the woman priest invites several of the crowd -- who have discussed the scripture with her in advance -- to give the homily together, and comments are invited from the listeners, responsive women  and men who give thoughtful reflections on the lessons they have learned from the Word, and how they plan to live more like Christ in the week ahead.

Then the entire crowd begins the creed, "I believe in God, the Tender Almighty..." followed by the prayers of the faithful, which are voiced by the gathered community as even more men come out of the church to join the women, whose eucharist prayer emphasizes the priesthood of all. The outside congregation prays for the pope and their local bishops, naming both women and men among them.

Inside the building, the male congregation is rapidly dwindling. With every sung eucharistic response that wafts in through the windows, a few more venture outside. By the time the crowd begins to pray "Our Father and Mother in heaven..." the priest and two acolytes are alone in the church. They look at one another, the priest shrugs, picks up the chalice and paten, and the three process through the empty church to the small altar outside -- just in time to share a joyous sign of peace with everyone.

As the communion song begins, the female and male priest stand side by side to offer the chalices to the people, who share them with each other until everyone has partaken of the eucharistic feast. Then two small children bring the chalices back to the priests, announcing, "The Body of Christ." The man and the woman, both of whom have been ordained as Catholic priests (though the woman is not yet fully recognized by Rome) say "Amen," and receive communion last of all, signifying their equality in the community, and their servanthood. Then they wash the vessels with the help of the children while another song of thanksgiving is sung by the congregation.

As the liturgy comes to its conclusion, the two priests pray the closing prayers together, and then briefly confer before announcing that next Sunday, if the weather is fine, mass for all will be held under the trees in the park next door because all of creation is a holy place. If rain is in the forecast, they say, everyone is welcome into the church for an inclusive eucharist, and in either case, both priests will preside together.

And all the people say, "Amen." 

As the final song is sung, young children moved by the Spirit (and others not so young),dance.

I can see it all. Can't you?

Sing out Thanksgiving

This past week as I've been doing my physio in the mornings, I've been going through old CDs in my collection, and came across this Marty Haugen song (kudos to the photographer/video maker, though I wish he or she had left on the wonderful musical intro, because it's so joyful and lively). Even as is, it seems very appropriate this Canadian Thanksgiving weekend... we can all sing out our praise and thanks. Have a good one!

Giving Thanks

This Thanksgiving weekend, we're celebrating my dad-in-law's and mom-in-law's birthdays, we're enjoying lovely weather, and we've gone for a walk along the river valley. We are so blessed to live where we do, with freedom and security and goodness so much a part of our lives. The people of Sirte and Cairo are much on my mind and in my prayers today. We have so much for which to be thankful!

I know I've moodled this one before, but it's still one of my favourite "hymns of praise," sung by the Paya Lebar Methodist Girl's Primary School Choir.

Happy Thanksgiving!



Thankful

Yesterday morning, my husband and I took a brisk walk around Henderson Lake in Lethbridge. We had to lean into the wind on the south side of the lake, but on the north side we were sheltered by the trees and the lessened wind was at our back. Canada geese and seagulls entertained us and themselves in or near the water, the sun shone, beauty overwhelmed me and I was full of thanks.

It's been a cooler-than-usual autumn in the West, but there we were, in our shirtsleeves on Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, enjoying the crunch of leaves underfoot and their colours in the trees and vines around the lake, greeting the people we passed on the pathways, and just being happy.

After that wonderful start to the day, the words of the first hymn we sang at church brought tears to my eyes:

For the fruit of all creation, Thanks be to God.

For the gifts of every nation, Thanks be to God.

For the plowing, sowing, reaping,

Silent growth while we are sleeping,

Future needs in earth's safekeeping, Thanks be to God.

In the true reward of labour, God's will is done.

In the help we give our neighbour, God's will is done.

In our worldwide task of caring

For the hungry and despairing,

In the harvests we are sharing, God's will is done.

For the harvests of the Spirit, Thanks be to God.

For the good we all inherit, Thanks be to God.

For the wonders that astound us,

For the truths that still confound us,

Most of all that love has found us, Thanks be to God.

(Catholic Book of Worship #532, For the Fruit of All Creation. Text by Fred Pratt Green (1970) -- traditional Welsh melody "All Through the Night")

On days like yesterday, I know deep down, without a doubt, that a Love larger than we can imagine has found us. Thanks be to God!