Two Pairs of Flipflops

I am wearing one pair of flipflops and carrying another in my hands. Eventually, I will branch out fully into the new. I will throw those old flipflops to the wind!

I remember working in an office that was changing over from a Microsoft system to Apple.  We didn’t trust ourselves with the new system. We feared a potential loss of our historical data. We decided to continue to employ the old system as a back up for the new.  Understandable. Even wise.  But over the long term it became unhealthy.  We had paid over $25,000 for the new technology and here we were with more work—double handling.  There is a time to just work with the new.

 My flipflops have the same basic function — just different colours. Like the biblical illustration that talks about a patch being ill-fitted to a garment. There is a now a new garment – a new wine. A new worship.  A new freedom. 

I have no doubt that it is not the last of change.  In fact, the 2020 flipflops will become my old familiar flipflops for this season and then will come something new.

 What do you do now with that nudge or alarm that is calling for change? Your life work. Your mission.  Freshen it up?

The Characters of Everything

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Mary Oliver - Poet

““I stood willingly and gladly in the characters of everything - other people, trees, clouds. And this is what I learned, that the world’s otherness is antidote to confusion - that standing within this otherness - the beauty and the mystery of the world, out in the fields or deep inside books - can re-dignify the worst-stung heart.””

— Mary Oliver

We would do well to stand willingly and gladly in this world’s otherness — standing with and grappling with the other as our antidote to confusion and hate.

Spare Me the Details

Do I need to know all the details?  Do I need to know all the variances?  The consequences. The possible outcomes.

Jesus seems to be saying to us to trust in Him and seek wisdom and understanding.

I have not forgotten these words said at a conference we attended in Vernon, B.C. a couple of years ago….

“‘Knowledge is linked to the mind. Wisdom is linked to the heart.
Knowledge doesn’t change who I am.  Understanding does.

— James Jordan - FathersHeart Ministries

We live in a world demanding answers for unfathomable situations. This is the culture we try to help and love.  We are so wrapped up in our search for the perfect answer.  The fine line. The distinctions between good and evil.

Instead, I suggest a path towards understanding.  To set aside our Pharisaic nature and breathe a little deeper into our heart.  Ask God to give us eyes to see a little better. And a new hearing to hear a little better.

“That they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts. And turn and be healed

— Isaiah 6,10

Grubby fingers

I love licorice. It comes a close second to chocolate in my personal candy ratings. I had a habit – in pre-COVID-19 days – of ducking into the small corner store on the home stretch after a long walk down to the sea. The store is small and friendly. There is often a dog waiting outside on a leash, and the newspapers become faded by the end of a hot, sunny day as their wire rack spills out of the store. The name Gourmet Deli is painted proudly above the awning which is, in my view, a slightly vainglorious title. I've bought the occasional piece of fruit, loaf of bread or litre of milk, but my most common reason for the diversion inside is to purchase a licorice strap to eat as a reward as I walk the last 500 metres home.

Each strap is 30c and in order to buy one I have to dig my slightly swollen and unwashed hands into the box at the shop counter – I have to bend down and find the container hidden between the Hubba-Bubbas and the strange Ritters Sport chocolates and Lara Bar selection.

That's right, my ungloved fingers separate the flexible straps of black sweet originating from the glycyrrhiza glabra plant and peel away a black belt for my consumption. The remaining stock lay ready for the next customer to fondle and reconfigure.

After successfully fishing one out, with those same fingers, I hand over a few coins to the cashier.

No, I don't need a receipt.

And depart.

I'm as happy as a clam as I saunter up the hill, eating my treat.

Those were the days my friend.

I thought they'd never end.

Future

A virus with no conscience

 MESSES WITH

A world discovering its soul too late

STREETS that look better at night

Their hooded presence hiding  

horror

Enjoy this present darkness

Before the BIG reveal

Our collective belief

Bringing with it

Laundry bags of rotting

Stink

For massive #earthday glee

Will you be my Isobar ?

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“So in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.
Romans 12.5”

Isobars are lines on a map connecting places of similar atmospheric pressure.

During a flight on an aircraft when air pressure is compromise, the masks drop, and we are encouraged to help ourselves first before helping children and others.  

And so, governments and their citizens, naturally focus on their own backyard. I pray we keep an eye on what is happening along our line.  Where can nations assist other countries struggling with a dire forecast?  Where can humans demonstrate kindness to others whose pressure is on the rise and no help is in sight?

This time has shown the connectedness of us — humans.  We can be proud of the resilient networks and pathways created by technology, science and human solidarity that hold the map in place and indeed deliver news of areas caught in a struggle that appears way outside our pressure range. We hear the ‘weather’ forecast each evening and see brooding storms and hotspots.

Not all places are seeing the same form of connectedness, and, information is not always delivered equally in prime time. That will become more obvious as the days go on. Hopefully, as one part recovers,then help and knowledge can be provided to those along the same isobar line.

We are connected. What happens in Mumbai in August or how this pandemic is handled in Florida or Edinburgh this week affects us all.  That seems obvious, but as we discuss the opening up of places along the line and declare better or worse regional weather forecasts, we need to be mindful of the global atmospheric repercussions - and stay ready to help others.

“Bear one anothers burdens
Galatians 6, 2”

A fruitful loneliness

It was a time of a fruitful loneliness

Blossoms barely holding

So heavy from sainted branches

Compost quickly swept away to iron traps

While carelessness flaunted herself

Until they slapped her face 

Falling like skin after Cancun

Then gathered with the plastic hand and booted out to sea

Those who once were free became lost in small fires

And those whose freedom was not won were fine and happy

Winners and losers

Just like old times

Except the clock got longer 

And the refuse more tainted

Welcome Home George

Dear George,

We so look forward to your visit. Things have been rather mad here, so, I am scrambling to get ready for your arrival. The weather has been kind, and you'll arrive at the peak of autumn — the weeping maples and liquid ambers are just glorious. Yesterday as I went on my walk around the grounds, I swear one of the magnolia blooms was large enough to have made the perfect face mask. I could have reached up and snipped it off and then twisted the woody branch to make a perfumed shield over my mouth and nose. Five thousand magnolia masks for the Faithful. Now there's a project.  We are contemplating wearing masks when we go out. The sisters are meeting to decide on a pattern that would be suitable for both the convent and us. But I think Michael has communicated these things to you.

Of course, this year will be quieter than usual. It will be just you, me and the boys for Thursday evening. No services. If you arrive before nightfall, we could stroll down to the river. They've stripped back those tall reeds. It looks so beautiful now. Vast and pure.  I cannot remember when you were last with us. It is quiet here, and the water is so still, the vista broken only by those ugly fences across the way acting like a barrier between the smooth and the rough. Who knows what is going on. I won't hazard a guess as to your feelings. We all wait now with a full belly for times to change.

We've planned a quiet day for Friday. We will give you space to get acclimatized again. Please use the library as an office to sort yourself out. Rest or whatever one needs after this ordeal.

Remember this time last year – Venerdi Santo – how we cried when that happened. Listening to Father Canatalamessa speak while Francis bowed his head.  I don't understand the movement of the human heart. What causes us to lament? To find joy? The most beautiful of all being found in the mix of both. You will have much to impart.  Promise me you will speak up if any of these plans don't gel with you. You are our priority. We've only got you with us for Holy Week. Then you will enter back in. You'll go home, I suppose. Or to Rome? Have you heard directly from the Holy Father?

Lent has come and gone.  I'm usually busy right up until Thursday evening and this year was supposed to be different. It certainly is.  We will have a car outside for you and station security guards at our front gate when you arrive. We will take care of the media.

I hope we have some rain.  I have been longing for rain and storms, but they haven't come.  We will all remain inside for the weekend. We could read aloud to each other and sing on Saturday evening. How does that sound? Father Tom has offered to say a special mass for you.

George, we hope you will find peace here.  We have no expectations.   We've ordered a box of wine that your assistant tells us is your favourite.   See you on Thursday or whenever you get here.

Peace and grace

John

Keeping the Shalom

Encouraging words from Jeremiah

Social Noticing

For me, this time of social distancing provides stillness and a time for social noticing.  I notice on my walks, so many neighbours are on the footpath outside their apartment blocks or houses. In hand, they have a broom or a rake. They tidy up the sidewalk gathering up the fallen leaves. They find satisfaction in cleaning up the way for others.

We do our part – tidying up and tending to the fallen while God tends to the roots.

Shalom

God Sufficiency

God is sufficient for all my needs.

I am excited to start watching an online course offered by my friend, Dan Whitehead and his team here in Vancouver at Sanctuary Mental Health. Now is the time to attend to our mental health and become equipped to help others who are limping through life sometimes or always. These times of strain and stress will take a toll unless we are proactive in finding time to enter into emotional. physical and spiritual practices that will help us cope.

Sanctuary as a gift is offering the course ( usually $100 ) free online. Please avail yourself of this fantastic offer and join with friends or family to do the course while you are at home during this time.

Is a Rat Just a Big Mouse ?

I nearly stepped on it

Laying there in the middle of the sidewalk

Right in the middle

I turned just as I passed it

Just to make sure

Yep that’s a dead mouse

Or a rat 

If I stood on it 

The bottom of my shoe would be in danger

A sole in peril 

But then who touches the soul

We unlace it’s and put it aside 

For freedom and want

I wash my hands anyway

20 seconds at least

Pivot

Shaking like a ballerina on hurting toes in grubby but expensive pale pink pointe shoes

Oscillating between hope and loss, between lostness and being known

Tottering on a love point before softly arching back towards a hate position.

Such is life on this stage

And will be

All is not well

And all is well

There is no applause for the dance

Well maybe, Jesus is somewhere in the crowd doing a Mexican wave and smiling out of one side of his mouth.

Fist

My low maintenance faith has become slowly more complex as I unravel intricate pieces neatly stashed away at the beginning. Like looking through a jewellery box of single earrings, fragile gold watch bands, inherited shiny things, brooches never worn, hair clips and such, so is my search for keepers now alive and ongoing. The ‘keep it simple stupid’ and ‘fake it to you make it’ are long placed on the trash heap. The imagined trust and obey bonfire lights up the place.  I blow off the soot and dust and sit alone trying to figure out how to use the new pieces in the old mechanism. Old wine skins. New wine skins. Baby and bath water. What a mess.

I don’t know the answers to everything but I do believe this time is one of invitation to be curious and leave the cabin. Using God as the wind He wanted to be, driving me and upturning me towards a restored innocence - second  naïveté - and then ,me, taking my place with the throng staring upwards with squinting eyes seeking not as powerful and chosen but as children. A fist - a cloud in an otherwise blue sky. 

The Mousetrap

Many years ago my mother sent over money for Christmas presents for our children.  Against my better judgement and, swayed by a 5–part chorus of ‘Please Mummy’, we purchased The Mouse Trap game.  An awful sense of foreboding came over me as we took our purchase home. On Christmas Day, frenzied little pudgy fingers opened the big box! The game came with masses of small pieces and takes the combined skills of a brain surgeon and architect to put it together.  Missing parts could be avoided only with meticulous surveillance by Mummy, the Mousetrap Monitor!  The game was a disaster for me.  I had to watch every move, hover over every roll of the dice, and supervise every pack up expecting at any time the little white ball would be lost or the red basket snapped. Surely the blue loop-the-loop rigging wouldn’t last more than a few months.   I was only satisfied when all pieces were packed up and the box neatly tucked away. 

 I should have listened to my gut and, instead, bought a new Atlas, a badminton set or a popcorn maker.  

 About 12 months went by. Pieces were lost. The game rarely left the cupboard that had became a graveyard for many games.  In January, our annual council recycling drive was upon us and in a moment of Manic Mean Mummy, I decided to throw it on the junk pile.  I loved that moment.  I felt so powerful. I don’t remember anyone complaining too much.  We all knew it was time for it to go.

  I think of other things now lurking in my life that ought to be removed.  Items that are high maintenance and serve only little or fleeting purpose.

I am reminded this week that I am a citizen of heaven already.  I received my visa early.  Citizens of heaven should be spending their lives maintaining the life-giving things. Maintaining friendships and fighting for justice. Promoting kindness and mercy. Maintaining health and care for others. I don’t want to spend my life maintaining the trap.  

THE DEEP END

Contemplation is the act of taking a big breath and diving below the surface. The act of searching, as Don Millers book title suggests, ‘Searching for God Knows What’.

We have been told not to dive into shallow water as the risk of injury is high. We would take well to heed this advice in matters too controversial, too current and too political. Avoid the risk of injury. Don’t dive headlong into the crowded shallow end but walk up to the deep, find a spot where only you and the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob dwell. Take a big breath and dive in head first. That is the act of holy contemplation.