An offer I can't refuse

For the past month, I've been feeling sad... I made the decision to leave my "dream job" at the Francis Winspear Centre for Music, Edmonton's beautiful concert hall. 

Being an usher there has been a fantastic experience overall. The Guest Services Team is a wonderful group of people of all ages and nationalities, but with a common love of music and serving others. 70 or so people that work together well, cheer each other on, and feel a sense of accomplishment at the conclusion of every concert, no matter how tired we get. And we do get tired, especially during the run of concerts in the Christmas season! O aching feet, O aching feet...

The patrons, especially those attending symphonies, are a diverse and interesting group, and I've enjoyed getting to know some of the "regulars" over the last 5 years. They've shared many insights about music and the human condition. What moves me especially is the spouse who brings their also aging loved one with memory or mobility issues to come and enjoy music that is particularly special to the pair. For them, I'm always willing to go the extra mile. It's not only the music that's inspired me on this job!

And the shows I've seen! Well, parts of them, at least... just in the past season, great classical music, newer symphonies (how I love to watch the musicians and try to figure out which sound is coming from where), comedy (like the Whose Line Is It? guys last month who had me laughing so hard I was crying), and so many other musicians and genres from all over the globe! Plus great Canadians like Celeigh Cardinal, Jim Cuddy, Natalie McMaster and her amazing family, Johnny Reid, Jann Arden, and Fred Penner (yes, really -- that was a sweet concert for young adults who watched his TV show in their childhood to bring their little ones to see). 

Music has always spoken to my spirit and lifted me up, and the joy it brings me counterbalances the challenges of my other "dream job." So my decision to leave Edmonton's magical concert hall weighed heavily on me for more reasons than I'll list here.

As I boarded the train to my final shift this week (a concert by the wonderful (!) Sierra Ferrell -- stay tuned for the next Monday Music Appreciation moodling), tears filled my eyes, and I thought, "oh boy, this is gonna be a rough shift if I'm already this emotional." 

And sure enough, the tears continually prickled my eyes as I walked through the doors and said goodbye to Bernie, my favourite security guard, and Connie, who has been concierge since the Winspear opened in 1992, but I held it together pretty well while taking my show notes in the Guest Services office and taking a few selfies with my favourite colleagues. 

I was doing okay until Leanne, one of our managers, came up to me, gave me a big hug and asked, "Why are you leaving us?" When I explained that two dream jobs were just one too many, she said, "I know you're doing important work at your other job, so let's just lighten your load here. How about working one shift every month or two?"

That's when the floodgates opened, happy tears for a change. I'm not sure how much I'll be around the Winspear in the future (I did purchase a subscription to some of next year's shows), but knowing that I can do a few shifts here and there and still work with friends on a less intense basis -- well, let's just say I'm overjoyed!

Monday Music Appreciation #50: Laudate Dominum

Wow, we're up to 50 music appreciation moodlings! And I've chosen this particular piece because we had such a great time singing/praying it last night at our local ecumenical evening prayer.

If you're a regular moodlings follower, you'll know that for the past 14 years or more, I've been organizing an almost monthly prayer evening because of my love for the music of Taizé and the Taizé community's very simple style of prayer. Silence, scripture and song, with no preaching, just a chance to let God's voice ring in our hearts. And last night's Prayer for the Marginalized was extra special somehow... 

When I arrived to set up at the church that was hosting us, the pastor told me that the furnace wasn't heating the church sanctuary, so we'd have our prayer in the basement where it was warmer. So we rearranged some chairs and tables and set up in a low-ceilinged hall, and people filed down to the basement to pray with us. Somehow, I had no matches to light our candles, but God provided a friend with a lighter last minute!

It was a cozy and intimate prayer space, and because we were closer together, the sound was incredible, as was the silence for meditation. There were many heartfelt prayers for all those being marginalized in our society and world, and I felt a very strong sense of community in praying with the people who came, many of whom are familiar faces from different churches in our area and beyond.

We ended the evening with the chant below, and it filled me with so much joy that I couldn't stop myself from singing the Alleluia descant with Mackenzie, who certainly didn't need my help! The musicians in our little Taizé group have been playing together long enough that they seem to intuit exactly what should happen next. When we got to the last ostinato of Laudate Dominum, Mackenzie glanced over at me, we dropped volume together, then ended the last half at full volume and with big smiles. Such a rush!

If you live in our city, and have yet to join us for our evenings of Ecumenical Prayer, our Lenten Prayer will be held at Spirit of Hope United Church (7909 83 Ave) on March 16 at 7 p.m. Bring friends and neighbours if you like!

The version of Laudate Dominum I am sharing today is in French, but it has gorgeous nature scenes and amazing French descants that outstrip the English ones we have by miles, praising God's greatness for restoring us to life, saving our feet from stumbling, and so many other good things you can say when praising God!

Because I can't send this video via the mailchimp program (sorry, email subscribers), here is the link to it on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rAgT4bPJ5W4

But if you are looking directly on www.simplemoodlings.blogspot.com, you should be able to see it below. Have a wonderful week and stay warm!

Elli's documentary

I first met Elli fourteen months ago today and was immediately struck by her warmth and kindness. In the space of a very short period of time and subsequent conversations and texts, I knew I had met someone incredibly authentic and deep, someone who had been through a lot, but who knew herself better than many human beings ever do because of her own personal struggle to be true to herself. Now, Elli is all about finding and creating joy.

Over the past year, Elli, with the help of a Telus Story Hive grant and some good friends, has put together a wonderful documentary to share her life experiences so that trans young people can learn that they are not alone, and hopefully, find joy on their own journeys. Elli's honesty and her willingness to open her life up so that others can learn and understand is incredibly brave and generous, especially as the government of Alberta prepares to enact some terrible anti-trans legislation, to put it mildly.

Coming Home -- at least the first 5 episodes (I have yet to view the 6th) -- is definitely worth watching. That I am even saying so is a sign of how far I have come as a human being -- ten years ago (as my own trans child was coming out), the conversations in these videos would have made me deeply uncomfortable, but because I now know many people in the queer and trans community as friends (and family), my perspective has shifted in a major way. I know in my bones that our gender/sexuality is a special part of each of us, and that no matter how we identify, we are all Creator's beloved children and must do what we need to do to be true to ourselves, or risk dying inside.

As mom of a trans child, I have found hope and joy in Elli's documentary in spite of present circumstances. I want to believe that we as human beings can all become more accepting and inclusive of those who are different from us by welcoming them into our lives as they are.

Today is Trans Day of Remembrance, a day when we honour the lives of Trans persons who have died because of anti-trans violence over the past year. It's a very difficult day for many people who have lost friends or who already don't feel safe because of their gender difference. The day I met Elli, as I walked with a different trans person, a full water bottle narrowly missed is. It was hurled by some teens yelling slurs.

I hesitate to offer Elli's first episode because Trans Day of Remembrance is a day of mourning, and Coming Home is about joy. 

But if mourning prejudice and the injustices perpetrated against trans people can be combined with a deeper understanding of what it's actually like to be a trans person, it can bring about healing, too. So I offer the first episode of Coming Home here because Elli and her friendship have helped me to heal and grow in unexpected ways. If you are able to watch this on YouTube, the other episodes should follow.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=okZjq3SMk-U&t=7s

May we all be as kind and courageous as Elli!

Ode to a childhood home

My wonderful parents recently made the decision to move to a home more suited to their needs, and their home of 49 years officially received its SOLD sign on Saturday morning. 

It's a momentous occasion for our family, and I sat down to moodle on the good karma of this place just over a month ago. Re-reading what I wrote today, I barely had to change a word (but Dad wanted baseball and bunnock games in there, and Mom wanted Ante-I-over somewhere...) 

Ninety-nine twenty-seven,

you've been the meaning of "home"

for almost half a century.

And what a beloved place you have been --

a place of comfort and joy,

of games and fun,

of laughter and tears,

of celebrations and challenges.

Your big old Mayday tree in the backyard

where we set up skipping ropes 

to ferry messages via ice cream pail

from one trunk to the next

(and where I once got stuck),

and your Snoopy and Woodstock playhouse

that Marjorie and Elizabeth 

decorated before we came,

always full of spiders

or neighbourhood boys

that we didn't like.

Your proximity to the school across the street

so early mornings didn't have to be 

quite so early.

The backyard tent 

built over your umbrella clothesline

and the dress-up clothes fashion shows

that entertained us on summer afternoons.

Slinkies walking down your stairs,

"hospital" played in your attic,

a "passion play"

complete with thunder and lightning

(when Jesus died)

enacted by puppets 

behind your basement bar.

Oh, and the school hamster who escaped

(don't panic, DON'T tell Mom!)

and somehow squeezed under it

to be discovered in the corner of a keepsake box,

happily munching a saved school report.

Ping-Pong in your rec room

with Dad, 

who played left-handed

(until we beat him),

card games around your dining table

with all the cousins at Christmas,

and watching The Wonderful World of Disney 

in your living room on Sunday nights.

Piano lessons from a neighbourhood babysitter,

twelve-string guitar songs floating down

from your pink and purple bedrooms,

Study No. 6 ringing through you

over and over and over,

til Mom sighed with pleasure.

One of your rooms full 

(every wall)

of Edmonton Oilers newspaper highlights

painstakingly cut out of

The Edmonton Journal.

Renovations...

and your new family room

full of light.

Baseball and Bunnock games

across your street

and over the schoolyard fence

on which more than one of us

ripped our pants.

The sound of the adding machine

balancing the books for the business,

computer games,

and term papers being typed

in your basement office.

A boarder who didn't stay.

Birthday parties,

youth group gatherings,

graduations, 

and meetings of all kinds.

A first kiss for a future husband

on your front step,

and a wedding's second day party

in your newly built garage.

Campers and trailers 

of various sizes and shapes

parked in your back yard.

New babies

and doting grandparents

building couch cushion forts

for them to crawl through

as they grew.

Your dress up clothes

for another generation,

and costume jewelry besides.

Your huge piles of raked leaves

into which Grandpa

threw his grandchildren

over and over again.

Church music practices

in your front room

once a month

(turn up that bass, Aaron!)

Your Harry Potter party,

complete with costumes

and Grandma's creations --

chocolate marshmallow frogs!

Wild games of ante-I-over

with tennis balls flying over your garage

and leaving marks on your sunroom windows!

Running freshly cut homemade noodles

up and down your stairs

and all over the house

to dry on your beds.

Your much-loved sing songs --

King of the Road 

and Darktown Strutter's Ball

(turn up that bass, Aaron!),

bellowing 'Enery the Eighth I am, I am

or softly singing

Love Can Build a Bridge

with forty of our favourite people

(a few different ones every time).

Lots of splashing in your heated birdbath

and Grandma helping a grandchild

to rescue a bird 

who froze to your chain-link fence

one very cold day.

Surprise kids' art

and handprints

on your walls 

near the treadmill.

Kartoffel und gleis,

chicken noodle soup,

Christmas dinners and Easter suppers.

Playing Christmas game gifts, setting puzzles,

and watching 

Bing, Danny, Rosemary and Vera-Ellen

in White Christmas

every year.

Visiting through your window screen

or sitting around your firepit 

properly distanced

during Covid times.

A little black dog chewing pork bones

or napping

on your back rug

during coffee visits.

The company of so many

friends and relatives, 

and Uncle Fred sleeping

in his favourite bed.

And now it's time,

sad as we are to say goodbye,

for us to let you go

so another family can enjoy you.

Just looking at you,

ninety-nine twenty-seven,

they'll never know

how much good karma

is in your bones 

and in our hearts.

Thanks for the memories!

Laudato Si Sunday Reflection: Renewing our world

This Sunday reflection is brought to you by
Revelation 21:1-5a.

O God,
we await your new heaven and new earth.

You promise us newness.

But maybe the newness we await is already among us.

Your home is among us
and you already live with us.

But
we can't seem to remember that
for more than a few minutes at a time.

We forget that we can be
your comfort for the sorrowing,
your consolation for the distressed,
your compassion for the suffering.

If we walk with you
and live as you intend,
death and mourning will be no more,
crying will be no more,
pain will be no more;
joy,
love,
and peace will reign
as the first things pass away.

You will make all things new.

Please, start with us.

+Amen.

* * * * * * *

I've been thinking a lot about newness as I reflected on this week's segment of Laudato Si: On Care for Our Common Home. It mentions a few bible stories as we continue with The Wisdom of the Biblical Accounts, paragraphs 70-75 this time (they can be accessed by clicking here). As we grow into adulthood, we see that some stories in the Bible are much more than meets the eye because of their many layers of archetypal meaning.

We are reminded of the story of Cain and Abel in paragraph 70. In childhood, it was a story about giving God the best we have and looking after each other, but for Pope Francis and his writing team, it is a cautionary tale, illustrating that

Disregard for the duty to cultivate and maintain a proper relationship with my neighbour, for whose care and custody I am responsible, ruins my relationship with my own self, with others, with God and with the earth. When all these relationships are neglected, when justice no longer dwells in the land, the Bible tells us that life itself is endangered.

The story of Noah is mentioned as another cautionary tale, God's first effort to make all things new after human beings messed things up. Then we hear Laudato Si's main refrain for the second time: "These ancient stories, full of symbolism, bear witness to a conviction which today we share, that everything is interconnected, and that genuine care for our own lives and our relationships with nature is inseparable from fraternity, justice and faithfulness to others." What I really like in paragraph 71 is the line, "All it takes is one good person to restore hope!" Referring, of course, to Noah's willingness to stand out from the crowd to renew God's reign on earth.

Laudato Si then jumps to the Psalms in paragraph 72. They exhort us and all creatures to sing praise and adoration of the God who lives with and beside us. How often do we reflect on God's presence in the creatures who live with and beside us? They are surely part of the newness God is creating.

In paragraph 73 the "prophets invite us to find renewed strength in times of trial by contemplating the all-powerful God who created the universe.... the God who liberates and saves is the same God who created the universe, and these two divine ways of acting are intimately and inseparably connected." The encyclical team closes paragraph 73's musings about the prophets with a quote from Isaiah, who reminds us that God "gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless." Just what we need to hear after reading all of the earth's problems Pope Francis listed in Chapter one that might leave us feeling overwhelmed.

The Babylonian captivity, when the people of Israel were forced out of their homeland to live in exile for almost 70 years, is mentioned in paragraph 74 as an example of a time of trial and persecution that led to a deeper faith in God. God's "creative omnipotence was given pride of place in order to exhort the people to regain their hope in the midst of their wretched predicament," and the same thing happened in the early Christian era when the followers of Christ found themselves persecuted by the Roman Empire.

What's interesting to me is that all of these examples of the trials and struggles of believers throughout the Bible are held up as examples to us who face the trials and struggles that have come about because of the overuse of creation's resources through rampant consumerism and human greed. Clearly, we are in similar straits, a time when we can glean some encouragement from the way that our biblical ancestors came through trying times by trusting in God and doing what they could. If they could find their way to starting over again, surely we can cooperate with God in renewing our earth.

Paragraph 75 points out that "The best way to restore men and women to their rightful place, putting an end to their claim of absolute dominion over the earth is to speak once more of a... [God] who creates and who alone owns the world. Otherwise, human beings will always try to impose their own laws and interests on reality."

But I'll return to the last lines of paragraph 74 for the last words in this Sunday's reflection: "The God who created the universe out of nothing can also intervene in this world and overcome every form of evil. Injustice is not invincible."

Injustice is not invincible! Especially if we see the wrongs around us, and to take a stand against them. Because injustices are ingrained in our culture, we may have to become counter-cultural, to appear a little crazy for a time in order to draw attention to the particular injustices to which our sleeping world has become immune.

I doubt we'll have to build an Ark to help God make all things new, but we might have to do something even harder in this day and age -- maybe to vote Green, to NOT to take flamboyant tropical vacations and to live in solidarity with our brothers and sisters who are struggling to feed themselves and their families. To NOT buy the latest cool but unnecessary gadget or to NOT support a company that sells genetically modified foods. In other words, to BE A SIGN, a role model, and an example of doing the just thing -- even if it's only our families and friends who might notice what we're doing.

How will you Be the Change in the week ahead? For the rest of your days? We are all part of creating a new world of peace, joy, and love.

Injustice is not invincible!

Sunday Reflection: an Advent Classic

Today's reflection is brought to you by
Isaiah 12.

Shout aloud and sing for joy:
great in our midst are you,
O Holy One.

That's pretty much it in a nutshell, my God.

We just need to learn to see you in all of life,
to know that you are with us
no matter what.

Then even our sorrows can become joy!

+Amen.


Advent's deep longing and subdued joy has created some really beautiful art and music, and you'll find both in the video below. Veni, veni Emmanuel is a 13th century Latin hymn that we in Canada often sing in English this time of year. This is New Zealander Hayley Westenra's version, and you can bet I'll be looking for more music by her in the near future. Enjoy!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tId6ePj7Zpo

Sunday Reflection: One of us

This reflection is brought to you by
Hebrews 4: 14-16.

You've already gone before us,
O Christ,
passing through the heavens
and making a place for us.

You've also been one of us
and experienced the joys and failures
that we face as human beings,
but without sin.


Your own human life
was a brief moment in time.

Now you live in each one of us,
knowing our sins and struggles.
our hurts and happiness,
and walking with us
through our dark places
and into your light.

We know that you are with us,
closer than our very breath,
in the thrumming of our heartbeats.

You are holding us with compassion and grace,
most especially when we are in need.

Thank you,
Jesus,
for being one of us,
and being one with us.

+Amen

Simple Suggestion #262... Let music lift you

Life around here has been a bit more emotionally challenging than usual, with sad news from friends, backward steps in the world of politics, health problems and all sorts of other uncertainties. My eyes have been tired from all the tears of late. So it's always wonderful to find something hopeful -- and music lifts me up more than anything else. When I'm feeling blue, a cheerful tune is pretty much my best medicine, especially if it's danceable.

This lovely music video isn't quite in that category, but I ran across it the other day and had to listen to it several times. It is "glorious" in its way -- both in its message, and in the lovely young faces of the One Voice Mormon Children's Choir so focused on their choral conductor and filmed so beautifully. The song's harmonies make me wish I could sing in a choir again.

What raises your spirits? If it's a song, I'd love to hear it! Send me a link and if I can, I'll post your musical lift here for others to enjoy. In the meantime, here's Glorious...

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

Happy Holi!

A couple of years ago, my friend from work shared a gorgeous Bollywood movie with me, and I'll admit that I was completely absorbed by what turned out to be a lovely romantic comedy with subtitles. It was just good clean fun, with some pretty amazing dancing, and the wonderful Holi scene in the video below. I love how different cultures celebrate Spring!

Today is Holi -- a festival that "signifies the victory of good over evil, the arrival of Spring, end of winter, and for many a day to meet others, play and laugh, forget and forgive, and repair broken relationships" (Wikipedia). Because of the Indian diaspora all over the globe, Holi is celebrated in many countries... and I remember seeing a picture of my niece covered in colours from a celebration here in Edmonton (though I think it was celebrated in the summer, not on a -13 C day like we're having now).

It's supposed to warm up, and Spring can't be that far off. In the meantime, here's a little colourful spring fun to tide us over until it actually arrives. To all friends from India, Happy Holi!

Advent Joy

The third Sunday of Advent's readings
lay it out clearly:

Imagine!
The wilderness and dry land are glad.
The desert rejoices and blossoms.
There is singing, and glory!
The weak are made strong.
The fearful receive courage.
The blind see beauty, life and goodness.
The deaf hear symphonies, laughter, and their loved ones.
The lame walk-- no, even better -- they leap like deer.
The mute speak -- and sing.
There is life-giving water where there was none.
Healing comes to all who are burdened with shame.
No one falls into the gutters.
Joy and gladness replace sadness and anger.
The dead are raised, and everyone dances.
The poor have good news brought to them.
And what we receive, we give to others.
If, as Anne Lamott says,
"Peace is joy at rest.
Joy is peace on its feet,"
then how can we help to make it so?
Imagine!
And go forth!

Dimitri's parting gift

In case you're wondering where I've been (if you've even noticed that I hardly moodled at all last week), let me just say that I was busy preparing to receive some very special visitors and didn't get to my computer.

Our friend Dimitri, who died suddenly in June, was supposed to come and visit along with his friend Xavier from August 11-14. The two didn't have any trip cancellation insurance, so after Dimi's funeral it was decided that Xavier would still come, with his wife, Ilse, in Dimitri's place. When we heard that they would be coming, we sent word that we would very much like to host them in Edmonton.

So this past week I worked hard to get ahead of the garden produce for a few days, mowed the lawn, and did laundry two days earlier than usual so that everything would be ready when our company arrived on Thursday afternoon. Lee left work early on Thursday and took Friday off as well, and we looked forward to our visitors' arrival, though we knew next to nothing about who they were. Because our friend Dimi was a 34-year-old para-commando, I expected we would be visited by one of his young army friends with a young wife.

So I was a bit surprised when a couple close to my own age pulled up in their rental car, and it took only a few seconds to realize that they were my kind of people. After Belgian kisses (three on opposite cheeks) were exchanged all around, I asked Xavier how to pronounce his name. "How do you pronounce it?" he asked. "Any way you want to say it is fine." When I insisted on hearing the proper pronunciation, he said, "It's Xavier (Ksaav-yay), pronounced the French way, or Richard, or whatever you like."

What unfolded from that point on was a lovely weekend with a wonderful couple -- both of whom were warm and friendly, with an excellent sense of fun and a marvelous command of English. Xavier is a retired barber of a philosophical bent who is now Mr. Fix-it for a senior's facility and acts in his local theatre company, and Ilse is a physiotherapist who provides fitted wheelchairs for the disabled, loves cycling and being with people. We had so many wonderful conversations. They were very interested in outdoor pursuits, and the weather was perfect while they were here, offering us a lot of time outside.

Thursday evening we introduced them to the Miracle Treat Blizzard fundraiser at Dairy Queen and did a wee bit of sightseeing, watching some Pokemon Go insanity at the Legislature grounds. On Friday we spent an hour in the bison paddock at Elk Island National Park just watching a herd grazing. Then we went canoeing for two hours on Astotin Lake, and had a leisurely lunch on a hillside with a gorgeous lake view. Friday evening we visited the Fringe Festival in Old Strathcona, taking in some street performers, and ended the evening at the High Level Diner for coffee, beer and dessert. On Saturday, we took a 30 km bike ride through the river valley (I never would have made it up the Keillor Road hill without Xavier's help!!) and we all went out for dinner with our kids. And this morning Julia made them two kinds of berry pancakes before they caught a plane to visit friends in Ontario.

It is only now that they are gone that I realize how much their visit meant to me. Dimitri's death was a shock, something completely unforeseeable and heart-breaking. He should have been here touring the Rocky Mountains, canoeing, and drinking Canadian beer with his friend and mentor, Xavier, who is still very much feeling the loss. We were so far removed from the tragedy of Dimi's death because of distance, but Xavier and Ilse's presence made it accessible and real for me, and assured me that life continues for my friends in Belgium, albeit without a beloved friend, son and grandson. After Ilse and Xavier left this morning, tears of sadness -- and gratitude -- flowed.

Dimi, your death is a hard thing to understand -- you had so much to live for. But somehow, I think you know how grateful I am to know your friends Ilse and Xavier, and I thank you for providing the impetus that sent them our way. Your friendship was an unexpected gift in my life, and your parting gift of these two warm and funny friends is also unexpected and much appreciated. You loved them, and now I love them too.

Dankuwel, my friend, and rest in peace.

Miles' ministry

I'd seen Miles many times in the past, usually at the Inner City Way of the Cross and other down town events, but I'd never met him. I think he was part of the parish I grew up in. He's not very tall and wears neat but shaggy not-quite-mullet hair down to his shoulders, which looks right on him. Something about him reminds me of a picture I grew up with at Universal Church Supplies -- Willis Wheatley's Jesus Christ, Liberator -- his genuine smile, I think.

Lee and I ended up attending mass at St. Joseph's Basilica instead of our own parish on Sunday due to last minute chauffeuring duties. The pre-Vatican music left me cold, and I felt a little lost in the cavernous nave full of strangers. So I noticed Miles right away when it came time for communion, not because of his familiar face, but because of his smile. He was off to the side, a minister of the cup, next to an older man performing the same ministry. The difference was that Miles was grinning ear to ear as he offered the sacred wine to communicants. When I stood before Miles after receiving the host from the solemn priest, Miles grinned, looked me in the eye, and offered me the cup, saying, "The Blood of Christ, Sis."

That "Sis" took me aback. The combination of his smile as he handed me the cup, and his term of endearment/familiarity/informality went straight to my heart. I grinned back and said my most heartfelt "Amen!" Then I drank, gave the cup back to Miles, and smiled all the way back to my pew, tears inexplicably filling my eyes. I may have actually laughed out loud when I sat down beside Lee! I closed my eyes and said, "Thank you!" and had a moment of stillness before watching Miles' ministry out of the corner of my eye for the rest of the communion procession, which is a long stretch in such a big church. Miles gave the cup  to everyone with equal joy. At a lull when he was waiting for the next communicant, our eyes met, he smiled a bigger smile, and I laughed again.

What was going on? The thing is, I've taken a course on the Eucharist at a theological college. I've learned about the mystical understanding of communion, its history, and the beauty in God offering God's self to us through the consecration of earthy, daily things like bread and wine so that they become nourishment for our souls. But for some reason, my encounter with this one minister of the cup helped me to really understand that communion isn't just happening because we're all drinking holy wine from the same cup. It's not just about partaking in a meal that represents the banquet in heaven. It's not just about everyone in our own little holy bubbles receiving Jesus. It's also about connecting with God by connecting with each other. Miles knows that we're all brothers and sisters, and he evoked that communion by calling me Sis. His joy in sharing the cup was contagious, and I revel in the happiness that came from that encounter, grateful for what I received from this stranger, my brother, Miles.

I feel like I'm not explaining myself very well. It could be one of those experiences where "you had to be there." But really, communion happens every time I go to church, though it has never touched me quite that way before. I have a sense that if we could all feel that kind of happiness -- that kind of communion -- more often, we wouldn't need churches. The world would be a totally different place. Eucharist means thanksgiving, and after years of "receiving communion" I found myself giving thanks not only for bread and wine, body and blood, but for all my brothers and sisters who were receiving it with me, "in communion" with me -- and everyone and everything else, too.

When Mass ended, I made a beeline to Miles to thank him for his joyful ministry, and he was as humble as you might expect, almost embarrassed by my appreciation. I don't think I was able to express to him how his actions touched me and deepened my experience of communion, but mystical moments are difficult to explain even after a few days of reflection, as you can probably tell. All I can say is that it was a God moment unlike any other, and the gratitude and joy are with me still.

Thanks, Miles, for waking me up!

A morning with my other sisters

Let me start by saying that I have two perfectly marvellous, fun, and brilliant sisters (that I love deeply)  from the same mother. And then let me tell you about how I rediscovered two of my "other sisters."

Recently I decided to look up my very first best friend from when I was 7-9 years old. I'd tried to look her up online previously, and though I found her on a travel website, I was unable to jump through all the right internet hoops to be able to contact her at that time.

So it was exciting to find her again, this time on Facebook. I sent a message to be sure I had the right person, and a few weeks later, received a message back. She was the right person, indeed, and we actually lived in the same city (I always thought she lived one province over)! So we chatted a little bit via the internet, and I promised her that when my second batch of strawberries were ripe, I'd invite her and her grandson over to help me eat them.

My friend and her little guy came to visit on September 4th, and to be honest, it seemed a little awkward at first. So much water had flowed downriver since we were kids. We had missed so much of each other's lives. As she came up the sidewalk, I was looking hard for some hint of the girl I once knew. Her face vaguely reminded me of my childhood friend... but it took until she laughed before I knew her once again -- her laugh was like hearing a song that I loved but had nearly forgotten! We hugged each other tightly, and both our eyes filled with tears.

Today, I hugged her older sister, and it happened again. These two women meant so much to me as a kid that it nearly broke my heart when our family moved away from them. Today I called them my "other sisters" because my morning with them was sort of like coming home. Rediscovering them has been something of a miracle in my life, and it's such a joy knowing that they're both doing as well as can be in spite of the heartaches and struggles that came with their lives.

Playing with these two friends as a child, I just played. I didn't think to ask personal questions because knowing the details of each others' lives wasn't as important as rowing our imaginary canoe down the river; building snow tunnels through the lilac bushes after the blizzard; seeing how deep we could wade into the flooded area at the park before our rubber boots filled with water; or making a perfect, smooth, crab racetrack by sliding our bums across the sandbox.

It's only now that I finally know that these other sisters originally came from Thunderchild First Nation in Saskatchewan, but were taken from their family of origin at ages 3 and 4 (during the so-called '60's Scoop) and placed in a foster home -- until they reached the age of 18 and were told they were on their own.

Life has not been easy for them, but they have managed to reconnect with their biological family and build strong relationships. It's such a relief to know that they have come through many hard times and will continue to thrive because of their love for each other. They are amazing women, definitely part of my Amazing Club.

This morning, my eyes filled again as my rediscovered sisters invited me to smudge with them. I closed my eyes and prayed, "Thank you, Creator, for bringing us back together. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Afterward, we sat and chatted for a long while, reminiscing, jogging each others' memories and laughing about things that happened in our almost forgotten shared past, trying to remember names and places, catching up on bits and pieces of each other's lives in the years since, and losing track of time.

It was holy ground.

Laughter is good for the soul

After all the heaviness we've been feeling in Canada of late, I was delighted to see this video, and felt like sharing. Maybe I need to go join the Red Nose Alliance -- it looks like so much fun!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QKm6hojP-p8