Sunday Reflection: Blessings in a time of crises

The Christ Candle this morning,
imperfect but shining brightly

This morning, the pastor of the Community of Emmanuel at the Inner City Pastoral Ministry gave a wonderful reflection on a section of the sixth chapter of Ephesians that has always had too much military metaphor for my liking. It's a piece of the bible that is often headed with a phrase like "The Armor of God." Sorry, but the God I know is anything but military. Our Creator is a lover, not a fighter!

So I really appreciated Pastor Quinn's little story today about having sock-ball fights with his brothers when he was small (think snow balls, but all the socks in the house balled up instead). Being the youngest and at a distinct disadvantage, Quinn would find himself curled into a little ball and being pummelled with socks by his big brothers to the point that he was unwilling to rise and grab socks to fire back. He made himself small until his brothers gave up.

And isn't that how we feel when we are surrounded with bad news and negativity? Climate change, covid cases on the rise, the housing crisis, the opioid crisis, the turmoil in Afghanistan, Cuba, Haiti, Yemen and so many other places... leave us feeling powerless and ready to curl up into a ball to wait things out.

But in real life that's not what God wants us to do, and Paul offers us an alternative. I'm going to paraphrase a bit here, but Paul encourages us to stand up, to wrap ourselves in truth, goodness, and peace, and to live in the faith that our Creator has our backs.

As Quinn talked about the crises that surround us, my eyes filled with tears, but I blinked them away and noticed my little bracelet that our other pastor, Jim, had us make for ourselves last week during the service he led. 

Jim invited Community of Emmanuel members to string beads on a piece of yarn to wear on our wrists to remind us of our blessings. There was no yarn left near me, so I helped others to tie on their bracelets, and grabbed a few beads to take home and make one later. 

If I'd had the time, I probably would have put together an entire string full of beads, but more isn't always better. In the past week, I've come to the realization that blessings in my life often come in threes, and the trinity of beads on my wrist has represented dozens of those trinities in my reflections: family, nature, and the Community of Emmanuel; my three kids; the trinity formed by my sisters and I; beauty, goodness and truth; Creator, Jesus and Spirit; sun, rain and wind for my garden; body, mind and soul... and so many more...

So yes, though there are crises all around, there are also blessings to be found -- if I only remember to look for them.

Thank you,
God,
for the many blessings in my life.

When I am overwhelmed by grief
or struggles that seem 

beyond my strength to survive,
remind me of the beauty,
goodness,
and truth
with which you surround me.

Bless all those living in true turmoil and poverty.

Help us to find ways to care for each other,

and to let go of our small worries

so that we can do your will

on much larger scales.

Fill me with your peace
and help me to move forward in love,
to share what I know of your presence
with others who struggle.

+Amen

Coffee with Ralph and Lidia

I happened to see my dear Italian neighbour, Ralph, on Monday morning, as he was backing his car out of the driveway. When he saw me, his face lit up, he stopped his car, and opened the door to say (as he often does), "I haven't seen you for a longa-time!"

Conscious that his car was partly blocking the street as it was, I told him that I would come for coffee the next morning, and, satisfied, he drove off to the bank as he'd planned. So yesterday, I packed up a few St. Paddy's Day lucky four-leaf clover cookies and walked a block to visit him and his lovely wife, Lidia.

Turns out it was Ralph's 94th birthday on Sunday, and one of the first things he told me (as I settled at the kitchen table for some of Lidia's wonderful espresso), was that I would have to come and help him plant his garden soon! His son, Alfonso, had stopped by for coffee and was already seated at the table. A plumber by trade, Alfonso teased his father, saying, "Don't you think you'd better get an estimate first?"

When I told Lidia how good her coffee was, she immediately got up to get me an extra little espresso pot and Ralph disappeared to find a can of Medaglia d'Oro Caffè (Gold Medal Coffee of the Arabica variety) to take home and make for myself. Lidia also gave me back two jars in which I'd previously brought over plum jelly (made from Ralph's plums in the fall) and dehydrated apple slices (made from Ralph's apples). She wastes nothing, my friend Lidia.

We sat and chatted for over an hour, mourning the loss of the Ethiopian plane crash victims, shaking our head over the latest political shenanigans, and setting some of the world's other problems straight while I ate too many Italian cookies. Lidia told me I'm like an extra daughter to her when I come visit, and I told the two of them that I love them, too. In this year of focusing on my blessings, I definitely have to count my loving Italian neighbours!

To be honest, I've been having a sad time of late, partly because of the deaths of some other special friends, one of them just a little younger than me. Though I know I will also lose these two elderly friends eventually, for now, visiting Lidia and Ralph is balm for the soul every single time. And not because of Lidia's delicious espresso and Italian Centre cookies, but because Ralph and Lidia are salt-of-the-earth people with warm and beautiful souls who will literally give you the espresso maker out of their cupboard!

A gorgeous sunrise walk - no commentary required

Bohemian waxwings

It dawned on me yesterday that I haven't been very good at sharing my blessings in my year of Blessing, 2019. So this morning, when I looked out my front window, I immediately saw a blessing that I can share. I quietly opened the door and stood on the front step in my pajamas with my camera, and what you see here is the result of those few minutes -- the song of hundreds of bohemian waxwings (and a single magpie).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fp7NXt8F7Yk

There's something so cheerful about a flock of waxwings. The sound they make, the way they flit from one branch to the next, and their sense of community. Nothing stops me in my tracks like their "murmuration" flights across the sky -- they seem to become a single organism that ebbs and flows as it moves like the wind. The picture at the bottom was snapped just as they took off from the trees, and where there was a lot of noisy excitement one moment, there was nothing the next.

Grey winter mornings aren't quite so grey when blessings like this appear out of nowhere!

A cure for January blues

January is a strange month. It's the start of something new... and a time when many are blue.
Christmas has passed, the decorations are down, and our spirits sometimes go that direction too.

It didn't help that this work week began with news from five of my colleagues who had lost a friend or relative over the weekend. I've heard it said many times that people often hold on through the Christmas season for one last celebration with loved ones, and then succumb to illness or old age once all the feasting and festival is over. I'm not sure that's really the case with all the deaths I've been hearing about this week, but I know that it's made for a more sombre atmosphere at work. We are saddened by our friends' sorrow.

So this morning, our L'Arche Day Program decided to do something to lighten the burden a bit. We were all invited to join our core members to pray for those who had died and for those who are grieving. And it's safe to say that the little impromptu prayer service lifted all our spirits a little. I was especially touched when Mariette began her prayer: "I'd like to pray for my wonderful friend, Thomas, and my wonderful friend, Lucy, and my wonderful friend, Sandy, and my wonderful friend, Darren..." and on it went, as she looked around the circle and prayed for all present -- a simple, heartfelt naming of each of us to God.

I wonder, in this strange month of January, how much our spirits might lift if we would simply remember all the people who bless us, day in and day out, by their presence in our lives. Maybe Mariette is on to something -- the real cure for January blues.

Laudato Si: Sunday Reflection #22... BOLD CULTURAL REVOLUTION, anyone?

Over the Christmas break, it was nice to have time to moodle about lighter topics than papal encyclicals. I also had some time to think about these weekly essays on Pope Francis' most important letter, Laudato Si: On Care for Our Common Home, and to realize what a worthwhile effort they are even though very few folks will ever read what I'm writing. The thing is, even a practitioner of Voluntary Simplicity like myself can become complacent over time, but I find that in rereading Pope Francis' call to action for the sake of our planet and throwing challenges out to my readers, I'm being stirred to action once again. It's all good!

On further reflection, the one thing I wish I could change is that this blog format doesn't really allow people to engage in discussion about what we read -- if only I could invite you all into my living room once a week to chat! But you're too spread out, so instead, I've adjusted some settings to make the comment section more reader friendly, and hope that some of you might be willing to share your thoughts or engage each other (and me) in discussion there, even if it means I end up with spam comments to wade through and delete. Please, feel free to click the Comment link at the bottom of this moodling if you have thoughts or ideas to share, and remember to play nice.

On to our reading for this week: Paragraphs 111-114 of Laudato Si, which can be accessed by clicking here and scrolling down. We'll start the year easy with only the last four paragraphs from the section, The Globalization of the Technocratic Paradigm.

It seems that Pope Francis and friends are calling us to recognize that technology has its good points, but that giving it complete power over the way we live, think, and act is a huge issue that our world needs to face. The two-pronged belief that technology is the answer to our planet's every issue and that technological convenience is essential to every part of our lives has brought us to a place where we are simply using technology's many different facets to entertain ourselves or in "a series of urgent and partial responses to the immediate problems of pollution, environmental decay and the depletion of natural resources" (paragraph 111).

Found at Quotesgram.com

In this way, we are missing the Big Picture -- and too often dealing with the symptoms rather than the original disease that needs to be cured. What's required is "a distinctive way of looking at things, a way of thinking, policies, an educational programme, a lifestyle and a spirituality which together generate resistance to the assault of the technocratic paradigm" (paragraph 111). It's going to take more than scientists to get us out of the mess we're in. I think Franciscan Richard Rohr expresses it well in his quote (to the right).

It's become too easy for us to imagine that technology is running the world, but the last time I checked, it was still human beings who were in charge (though leaning heavily on processes that are more technological than humane). Pope Francis rightly notes that "We have the freedom needed to limit and direct technology; we can put it at the service of another type of progress, one which is healthier, more human, more social, more integral" (paragraph 112).

And I am hopeful that this will happen -- in fact, I am seeing it happening more and more. At the beginning of our family's journey into a life of less consumption and more meaning almost ten years ago, it felt as though we were constantly swimming against a tide of non-essential trends, fashions, possessions and experiences all designed to turn us into the shopaholics that marketers told us we should be for our happiness' sake. But in the last few years, the current seems to be shifting in our favour -- there's been a huge uptick in common sense -- and people are realizing that we can't buy happiness, but it can be found by owning less, living smaller, protecting the planet and enjoying a healthier, more balanced life. My oldest daughter and her friends' desire to ride their bikes everywhere rather than drive is just one example of this kind of thinking. The recent increases in vegetarianism and veganism can also be seen as another kind of rethinking of consumerism. And there are dozens of other examples! Slow food, small homes, permaculture, you-name-it!

I love these lines at the end of paragraph 112, which notes the awareness that is creeping into our world:

An authentic humanity, calling for a new synthesis, seems to dwell in the midst of our technological culture, almost unnoticed, like a mist seeping gently beneath a closed door. Will the promise last, in spite of everything, with all that is authentic rising up in stubborn resistance? 

Yes! I want to shout... But... Technology has offered humanity so many amazing gadgets and gizmos -- the "novelties" mentioned in paragraph 113 -- that we've become distracted from living lives of depth and meaning. The "constant flood of new products" are simply "new forms of escapism to help us endure the emptiness" because, in our distraction, we have forgotten how to deeply appreciate life in all its manifestations. Pope Francis and his encyclical team clearly ask that we get back to authenticity -- that we "refuse to resign ourselves to this [escapism], and continue to wonder about the purpose of life and meaning of everything."

Here is the beginning of the BOLD CULTURAL REVOLUTION (the Pope's words, my uppercase, sorry) that the world needs. It's gotten to the point where it seems we've become a bit blasé about all the technological and scientific wonders in our lives and have let science and technology (dare I say it?) take on God's saving role in the world. But the only saviour for this planet is the God of peace and justice who acts through us -- through our appreciation for creation's wonders and our efforts to improve the lives of every being on earth by reducing our consumption, sharing our riches, and cleaning up after ourselves.

The final line of paragraph 114 says it perfectly:

Nobody is suggesting a return to the Stone Age, but we do need to slow down and look at reality in a different way, to appropriate the positive and sustainable progress which has been made, but also to recover the values and great goals swept away by our unrestrained delusions of grandeur.

"Delusions of grandeur?! But I have no delusions of grandeur," I imagine we are all thinking (I know I am!) So here's the exercise for this week: let's read a short article about the poorest city in the world by clicking here, and note how many things are lacking in Monrovia, Liberia, for which we regularly forget to give thanks. Then let's think about the objects in our home that we'd be hard pressed to find in a home in Monrovia, where many labourers earn less than a dollar a day. And perhaps we can also consider those things that many of us feel entitled to in North America -- our vehicles, possessions, "toys," vacations...

We are blessed with so much, aren't we? Do we truly appreciate our blessings? Can we forget about delusions of grandeur that fill us with a sense of entitlement -- at least until all of creation is cared for? Can we live in harmony and solidarity with creation? Gratitude and the desire for justice for all are where BOLD CULTURAL REVOLUTION begins... and it only begins with us.

*******

A prayer for our earth

All-powerful God, you are present in the whole universe

and in the smallest of your creatures.

You embrace with your tenderness all that exists.

Pour out upon us the power of your love,

that we may protect life and beauty.

Fill us with peace, that we may live

as brothers and sisters, harming no one.

O God of the poor,

help us to rescue the abandoned and forgotten of this earth,

so precious in your eyes.

Bring healing to our lives,

that we may protect the world and not prey on it,

that we may sow beauty, not pollution and destruction.

Touch the hearts

of those who look only for gain

at the expense of the poor and the earth.

Teach us to discover the worth of each thing,

to be filled with awe and contemplation,

to recognize that we are profoundly united

with every creature

as we journey towards your infinite light.

We thank you for being with us each day.

Encourage us, we pray, in our struggle

for justice, love and peace.

+AMEN.

(A prayer for our earth and all quotations from Laudato Si: On Care for Our Common Home © Libreria Editrice Vaticana)

Next up: #23... A(nother) shot at Anthropocentrism

What a weekend!

My silent auction prize -- the family in 1955.

Remember that probable Guiness-Book-of-Records-family I once moodled about? Well, this past weekend there was a pretty wonderful reunion of them all, many of their children, grandchildren, and a few great-grandchildren. As reunions go, it was chaotic and challenging for the introverts in the crowd, but it was also a good opportunity to remember and appreciate our roots and our wings, and our connections with our grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

Eugenia and Wendelin, my grandparents, had 12 children (all still living with the combined ages of 905 years -- at least until the four August birthdays), and 77 grandchildren, of which I am one (#30). Being born in the middle ranks, I was fortunate enough to connect with some of my older cousins, with my age group, and with some of my younger cousins as a willing teenage entertainer of the little ones at family weddings -- they were irresistibly cute in my books! I was also fortunate to be shipped to Saskatchewan for a couple of summer vacations (and my one and only fishing trip) with cousins, and a few of them joined us on camping trips as babysitters when we were little, or stayed with us in the city for swimming lessons and/or to get out of their parents' hair for a week or two in summer.

Of course, a reunion of 250 people is something of an exercise in frustration, because half the faces present were un-place-able. Our last reunion was ten years ago, and we've increased in number and all gotten older, so in many cases it was pretty much impossible to know who's who and who belongs to who among the younger set, except when there was an undeniable family resemblance.

I'll admit that, as an introvert from 'away', I really lowered my expectations of enjoyment for this reunion, and that probably helped create many sparkling moments...

- Returning to the 'land of living skies' (Saskatchewan) and setting up our camper just as this distant downpour reached the regional park...

- Watching a Saskatchewan Roughrider's game out at Uncle Mark's original farmhouse (now owned by his sons), singing along with the 'First Down chant,' and being present for the high fives after a touchdown (unfortunately, the Riders lost in the end)...

- Camping at the lake where we swam as kids...

- An early morning cemetery walk, finding the relatives who are awaiting us in heaven...

- Swimming in a sea of yellow shirts...

- Noticing the amazing young adults that my cousins' kids have become...
- Listening to my youngest daughter converse in French with a cousin-in-law who lived in Paris for 23 years...
- Hanging out at the kids' colouring table with little second-cousins Keira, Ben, Sam and others, and their moms and dads... and seeing the 'big kids' enjoying colouring, too!

- Staying out of the way of all the 5- to 10-year-old energy as the kids played among the tables in the hall...
- Getting updates on the happenings at the bunnock tournament (that I wish I could have been part of, but you can't do everything...)

- Watching a skit by the 'original twelve' unofficial Guiness Book of Records holders...

- Cousin Sara's impression of her fave celebrity, Dr. Phil...
- Playing 'Family Feud' with questions that pertained to the grandchildren's memories of Grandma and Grandpa...
- Hearing a recording of Grandpa Wendelin singing German songs...
- Singing together as a big group...
- Dancing the butterfly with a 40-year-old cousin and her 4-year-old niece...
- Watching the 'originals' dancing the Russian polka together...
- Big circle dancing, like a conga line, following Phil S. out one door of the hall and back in another...

- Sitting inside or standing outside the overheated hall swapping stories...
- Kibbitzing with cousins as we cleaned up/closed the bar around 1 a.m....

- Picking 2 gallons (8 litres) of Saskatoon berries at Auntie Cathy's U-Pick at 8 am on Sunday morning, and getting a garden tour...
- Church music that felt like home and made us all smile as we sang along...
- The comment by Uncle Don (only child and in-law) about "winning the lottery" when he joined the family...
- A picture of Marias who span 30 years in our ages -- born with 14-16 years in between (how cool is that?)...

- Short chats (never long enough to really catch up)...
- Quick last hugs...
- A peaceful pause at the historic Battle River Trestle on the way home...

One thing is certain -- we descendants of Eugenia and Wendelin have been blessed by God in more ways that we can count. Not that there haven't been challenges and losses, but definitely, the blessings win the day.

Thank you, God, for Family with a capital F. And a good, good weekend.

+Amen.

There is no perfect

I love working for L'Arche for many reasons, but the main one, of course, is the people with and without disabilities with whom I have developed friendships. Today I am thinking of a very fine young man without disabilities, an assistant in the community whom I have the pleasure of accompanying on his journey in L'Arche. He visits me once a month for an hour of "accompaniment" and a good cup of masala chai (at least he tells me it's a good cup). I listen to stories of his life in L'Arche, and ask questions for reflection, and encourage him (he does a good job, after all). Sometimes I feel like I am the one being accompanied, because he often leaves me with thoughts that stick in my mind.

The most recent is the heading of this moodling. I can't remember the exact context in which he said it, but the emphasis in his soft-spoken delivery hit me with force. He's absolutely right -- there is always a shadow over perfection, whether we realize it or not. The perfection of a rose only lasts a day; the perfect moment soon becomes a memory. More often than not, things and events and people are far from perfect in our interactions with them. Yet there are many places in our lives where we still expect perfection. Of ourselves, of others, of our governments. Of God, who, granted, is perfect, but who chooses to let us live in imperfection because that's how we human beings find our way to God. I suspect those who write God off have never understood that if God went around thunderbolting people and situations because of imperfection, we'd live on an extremely scorched planet! And if things were perfect here, it wouldn't be earth, but heaven!

Along with the idea of "no perfect" comes another idea that I received from Susan, the amazing woman I have recently been interviewing about the history of our L'Arche community in Edmonton. She has a dozen or so serious medical conditions at the moment, and she says, "Isn't it something how we are conditioned to believe that everything should always go right?" And yet, so much doesn't. In spite of their best efforts at pulling themselves up by the bootstraps, people I'm connected to these days have terminal cancer, heart attacks, money troubles, relationship problems, and frustrations that positive thinking can't melt away no matter how hard they think positively.

So, what to do?

See, even my attempts at imperfection aren't perfect!

We can be angry about all this imperfection, or we can embrace it as part of life and human nature. We can write imperfect people off, or we can recognize in them some of our own imperfections and be loving and accepting, as in L'Arche. We can choose denial, or we can work on grieving and healing our hearts. We can rail at God for the injustices in the system, or we can see our own participation in those injustices and "be the change."

It's when things don't work out that a person's true personality comes out, true growth occurs, and true grace appears, but even so, we tend to see life's trials as the worst things that can happen.

But that's not always the case. I can tell a dozen stories from my own life about when things got screwed up so badly, I couldn't possibly imagine them coming out okay. Here's just one pretty basic (but long-lasting) example: when I was seventeen, I was diagnosed with juvenile (Type I) diabetes. For the first month or so, it seemed like an adventure -- learning to take insulin injections, changing my diet, testing my blood sugars, and balancing food and exercise. Then it hit me  -- this diabetes thing was a permanent imperfection in my life. Unless there was a cure, I would never NOT have diabetes again. For the next eight years I went through a lot of denial, cheated on my diet, and risked my health. I gained 30 lbs and felt pretty lousy a lot of the time, blaming God and the disease rather than my own handling of the situation.

Fortunately, I woke up to reality before the terrible complications associated with diabetes set in. Three decades and three healthy children later, my kidneys are fine, my circulation is good, and my vision isn't any worse than other people my age. My only problem is this dizziness that seems to be permanent, and to which I have become mostly accustomed.

It's no picnic taking 6 needles a day and having fingers constantly full of holes because of blood tests... but I've also had plenty of time to see the blessings of the disease. Blessings? Yes, blessings. I eat healthy, and by association, so does my family. I get a lot of exercise (especially with my husband, Lee, and Shadow puppy, our new walking partner). My weight is where it should be, and my health is good. I have a certain kind of discipline in my life, for which I can thank a chronic illness. I may end up with more serious complications somewhere down the road (heart attacks and strokes claim a lot of people with diabetes) but that just means that I am aware of and appreciate my life and health while I have it.

There is no perfect, but if we look hard enough for it, there's often "pretty good."

It's not Thanksgiving Day today, but...

This morning, I'm thankful for sunny skies and the diamond light glittering on the snow outside, and my ability to see them.
I'm thankful for a warm home (it's -23).
For the sound of birds (both outside my window, and in the living room -- Pebbles the budgie talking to himself) and my ability to hear.
For the sound of my washing machine working in the basement, and the fact that I am able to wash my family's clothes and hang them to dry.
For the hum of this laptop, and my ability to use it to communicate through reading, writing and speaking.
For the tulips that I know are waiting under the snow, and the thought of the tomato seeds that I will soon plant and watch grow.
For my body and its strength and health.
For my family in all its strengths and weaknesses, joys and sorrows.
For the safety of my cousins in Japan (and with prayers for everyone affected by the earthquake, everyone in Libya, everyone who needs a prayer).
For everyone whose lives touch mine.

This week I read a story about a man who, when he woke up every morning, laid still in bed until he came up with ten things for which he was thankful. That's a pretty great way to start the day! When we think about all the blessings for which we can be grateful, life is beauty and wonder.

For what are you thankful?