Cultivate

I’m tending to my plants this month. They all need a different sort of care.

I placed my big Money Tree outside too early in the spring and have brought it back inside to nurse back to health after it’s leaves began to fall in the shock of the overnight cold. I have a baby Money Tree, a new acquaintance, that is repotted and limping along. Sage seeds in three small terracotta pots need twice daily spray with water to keep them moist. Others demand less attention and seem to thrive even if neglected.

These are my plants.

Like friends - I must tend to them and give them what they need, in all seasons, if I want my community of love to thrive.

Friends

I helped a friend move last weekend. She was moving from her cute little basement suite to a 2-bedroom in the same neighbourhood. We were slightly on the naughty side of the Provincial COVID recommendations for only meeting up within our bubble. But what can you do.

We were a group of six adults. Friends. Some helped with the big pieces of furniture and the driving, and some tackled the difficult job of accounting for the remnants. The dustbuster, the tasselled wallhanging, the plates and cups left on the dishrack. The dishrack. These were thrown together in a big black garbage bag. Soon it was done. I stayed back with one of the women to clean. We regretted not bringing a speaker to listen to music. But we were both enjoying the cleaning vibe.

'Have a look at the fridge' says H displaying her work. It looked great.

I can't quite get the stains off the bath. It's an old tub badly in need of a reno.

We walked to the new place with our broom and wastebasket and bits and pieces, stopping at a liquor store en route to buy champers and beer.

We sat around afterwards drinking out of strange mugs that we found on the top of a packing box. Someone had brought home-made banana bread, which tasted great paired with the Portuguese bubbly.

It was a very ordinary move — friends helping a mate on the weekend. Drinks to celebrate when the work is done. But it was so NOT ordinary. It was the best day I had in months. 

I felt so blessed to be a part of this scene. We sat apart from each other in the front room and admired the new home. It is a beautiful space in a good location. She will be happy there. This time was a real treat. I didn't want it to end.

I overstayed. My friend was probably itching to start unpacking or at least make up her bed for her first night in a new home.  We stood on the back porch and knew that this would become her favourite place. We imagined adding planter boxes and pot plants making it feel very relaxing. There was a spot for a small veggie patch.

 I didn't look at my phone all day. None of us did. We were screenless for at least 5 hours. And it felt good.

I suddenly realized what I had been missing for the past 12 months. Not travel. Not concerts. Not restaurants. Just this. Friends.

I couldn't sleep that night. Most likely a mix of heightened emotions and the beer.

God Politic

I was thirsty, and you constructed me a dam

I was starving, and you brought me new farming techniques

I was oppressed by society’s structure, and you spent yourself in law, politic, economics to reconstruct society.

I was ignorant, and you strove to establish a school system; my culture was different from yours, and you respected it; I was your enemy, and you sought to understand me

Matthew Fox  Listening (Winter 1966)

Linger

 “We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance, and in that waiting, a new character in community; and in community, solidarity and hope for 2021 and beyond.”  Romans 5:4

We are all somewhere (or everywhere) on Paul’s spectrum. Suffering. Persevering. Building character. Hoping.

In these present times, it is a struggle to fulfill the basic tenets of hospitality. We are falling short of our core principles of generous invitation, warm and caring personal contact, and the simple benefits of sharing a meal around a table. Attention to protocols is necessary, but we recognize the compromise — our connection to each other is endangered. Maybe in this present suffering, this persevering, we can fine-tune our community character. At Soulkitchen, our original mission was to befriend the most vulnerable and the lonely, first in Australia and now, here in Vancouver; building resilient communities because of good relationships — food, simply used as a tool to that end. We had to dig deep and be creative to find our way in 2020.

Read the full article here A Season to Linger | Union Gospel Mission (ugm.ca)

Bare and Beautiful

I noticed a tree on my walk today, displaying six giant Christmas balls hanging from its bare branches. It is late January here, and the Christmas decorations should be long gone. The balls adorned an ugly tree in the front garden of a rather house grisly house on a gloomy, grey day. They looked ridiculously beautiful. Perhaps that same tree will be a wonderful addition to the garden in the spring and summer. It will make the old house come alive with its greenery and shade. But for the moment, the madly coloured balls in silver and gold and red are the only things that give the plot its gucci.

Our faith allows us to be adorned for all seasons —fake balls when we are bare. Dormant. The generosity of fig leaves that hide our shame and inertia.  The rich greenery signalling times of flourishing and thriving. I am thankful for this faith screen of grace that allows for the good and bad seasons.

 We are beautiful when we have nothing new to share or learn.

Beautiful when we are going nowhere.

Beautiful when all our tricks and toys are packed away, and we have nothing to give.

And then, beautiful in our gowns of revelation and deep love.

We must learn the self-love of every look.

Worthy as we go out and come back in. I find peace in that.

Contemplation or My Spiritual Sudoku

"Religion is like a swimming pool - all the noise is at the shallow end." theologian William H. Vanstone (1923-1999)

I’m denominationally single at the moment - I’ve been dating the Mennonites for a few years, but it’s nothing serious. My first love was the Catholic church.  In my late 20s, I was swept off my feet by those passionate Pentecostals. Twenty years later, a little jaded, I took the side exit with Brian McClaren and the Emergents.

After endless rounds of church ‘water sports’ in a crowded shallow end, I retired from my team   —exhausted. For a few years, I wanted to be left alone to swim out in the deep where it is quiet and uncrowded. I needed time to think - I've been thinking for the past ten years.

So, I’ve decided to call myself a contemplative for the time being. My apologies to those of you who have been dedicated travellers in this lane for decades. You who have profited from 14-day silent retreats, the centering prayer movement, Ignatian spirituality and such.  I've admired you from afar.  I am an imposter, but I know nowhere else to lay my weary spiritual body. It beckons me to rest, reflect and weigh up all that I know… and all that I don’t. It’s a perfect place to be.

I enjoyed writer Parker Palmer’s suggestion in his latest book ‘On the Brink of Everything’ to find a spiritual place that nurtures ‘the gift of bafflement’ rather than the prison of our religious absolutes. I have learnt to be content with mystery; to live in the places that are foggy and undefined – joining those baffled and confused ones.

This style of practice causes me to renew the way I live out my faith. I cycle through periods of stopping, resting and thinking and then return to activity. The Ignatians call it ‘Contemplation in Action’ –  thinking that seeks closeness to God. Resulting in right and loving actions.  Thomas Merton, one of my champions, would be happy that contemplation and meditation are in vogue!  Both are just devotion and prayer dressed up for our times.

We live in times filled with complicated issues, and the weight of our words is increasingly burdensome.  Contemplation relieves that pressure by allowing time to have a good think – a healthy dialogue with God - a place to relax and ask the questions that may be too bold or even too wild to declare out loud.

When I'm stressed, my rather nerdish form of relaxation is to complete a Sudoku or a crossword. I find both so soothing and calming. Likewise, contemplation or meditation allows time to sit quietly and play a game of spiritual Sudoku thoughtfully and quietly trying to find the pieces that will connect me with that elusive peace and understanding - cracking the spiritual code.

We have been warned from an early age to avoid diving into shallow water. Thie risk of injury is high. So take some time to walk up to the deep, find a spot where only you and the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob dwell. Take a deep breath and dive in headfirst. That is the act of holy contemplation.

There is Another Voice

First light 

Covered by noisy blether 

Whispered defeat

Coaxing shy despair

With deceit

Take THIS pill

Swallow

wait 

Numb head

But there is another voice

Aroused from sunny sleep

To punch the darkness 

Slap the sadness 

Goodness named by God 

Wrapped in me

Alive, say, to rise again 

---

Mother Mary

Passing by this store window in my neighbourhood today reminded me of another mary memorabilia…..

It was a statue, a gift from my quirky Godmother on the occasion of my first baptism. She stood about as high as a school ruler and fairly shone, so perfect was the porcelain.

Like the original Virgin, she had a hard life.  She lived in the back of my linen cupboard for at least 30 years. Incarcerated through no fault of her own. A product of religious discrimination. Mine.

Periodically, I would catch a  glimpse of her when we hosted houseguests and all the sheets and towels were in use. Mary lay recumbent against the blue and white chequered liner fittingly matching that flowing white gown with the blue veil.

Our eyes would meet.  

"Sorry, I know you don't deserve to be here. You are just part of the collateral damage of a faith switch.  My new Evangelical friends wouldn't understand.  And I've got my kids to consider. They'd be confused. You, a worthless idol? Right?

Deep down, I knew Mary didn't deserve this life in the dark.   

But how could I release her from this prison of linen?

Advent would prove to be the perfect time for the heist.

 My niece, Grace, invited me to her Confirmation – her Roman Catholic confirmation. Mary came out.

 I freed her that day. She went to a good home. A family that would place her in a glass display cabinet where she could show off that sheen and that beautiful smile.  

 It wasn't easy letting go; despite everything. She's free now. I'm so sorry.

May this be a season of letting go of things in the dark—even a season of rediscovery and re-gifting.

To Love

“To be commanded to love God at all, let alone in the wilderness, is like being commanded to be well when we are sick, to sing for joy when we are dying of thirst, to run when our legs are broken, But this is the first and great commandment nonetheless. Even in the wilderness - especially in the wilderness- you shall love him. ”

— A Room Called Remember Frederick Buechner

Masked

It doesn't seem long ago that we were arguing and sorting out global policies on face coverings. Could a security guard have her face covered? What happens with someone in full hijab goes through customs at the airport?

What a difference a pandemic makes – now we are all using face covering. Now we are insisting on it and not just tolerating it.

I wonder what our Muslim sisters think now –  Vindicated? Accepted?

The discrepancies are particularly true in the European Union where laws informally known at 'burqa bans' that essentially forbid any face covering that hides identity – on the basis of public safety – are now questionable. In 2020, a person in some European countries could be banned for not wearing a face covering and equally at risk of penalty if they do wear the full burka—both in the name of public safety.

No wonder the bible turns us towards the heart as the eye to the soul. Our image-makers and breakers must be careful about what we allow and disallow. It just demonstrates the complexity of life.

Heaven help us!

Live it

How then do we teach our children and pass on a faith we are still working out?

- Allow curiosity

- Listen

- Don’t dispense false hope 

- Be real 

Communion. Out of sight, out of mind  

For me it all started with the bread - the round white dollar-coin-size bread or wafers as we renamed them in the name of accuracy. At 10 years old dressed, like a bride, I had my first taste. I’ve remained connected and fascinated with this practice.
I heard the nuns provided the bread and purchased the wine.

I watched the man in the white kaftan serve the meal and then do the dishes.

Now I’ve forgotten. Just realized. These past six months I’ve never missed it. I didn’t give it a thought. Wow. That’s sad.

Selah

The Giant Pause – Selah

The word selah is mentioned 74 times in the Hebrew Bible, and the meaning has been a hot topic for theologians. I think of selah as a pause between what has been revealed and what is yet to come.

A moment of reflection. A meditative bench.

We are in such a time right now that demands a giant pause.  It offers pause to reflect on the past and to dream about what will be—our chance to reset in order to thrive in a future time.

Now that the shock of our new status quo has subsided, this is the time to ask some critical questions. 

What can I do from now on to flourish?

 Where can I find meaning and satisfaction?

What does connection with others mean to me?

 What counts as a good relationship?

Selah

Who am I

Selah

God is gracious. He allows for this breath. This selah. This tremendous opportunity.

A prayer for those that serve somebody

O Lord our heavenly Father, whose blessed Son came not to be served but to serve: Bless, we ask you, all who, following in his steps, give themselves to the service of others; that with wisdom, patience, and courage, they may minister in his name to the suffering, the friendless, and the needy; for the love of him who laid down his life for us, the same thy Son our Savior Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Placement

I listened to the beginning of a sermon online from a local church. It began with a litany of how this world was going down the gurgler. Pulling out all the usual suspects – climate change, racism, COVID and moral decay. Lets milk this.

“ You need Jesus more than ever now.” he preached.   

Outside the sun shone. Even sparkled.  A beautiful late summer morning hovering around 22 degrees. The grass greener than usual for August. The city quietly rising for the long weekend.  And – literally - birds chirping outside my window.

I couldn’t find a place to accept this mouthful of horror on the menu.

And I didn’t need Jesus more than ever.

I just needed Him.

A Tale of Three Vows - a pandemic essay

It was a day in May like any other—like every other. A day to make an ordinary, everyday pledge. I hadn’t uttered a vow for over 35 years.

The breeze on this glorious spring morning whipped around my naked neck. I should have collected that wool scarf hanging on a hook at my door entry and wrapped it around my now vulnerable neck. My mistake. Now I tugged at the zipper of my thin jacket, pulling it closer to my chin, urging it to work harder at its job. I had been fooled by the May date and glamorous light streaming in through clean windows. Warm in imagination but chilly in reality.

All of us, in some way or another, are tugging at thin jackets to ward off a brisk season of unusual winds. We are striving to make sense or at least find peace during a pandemic. As I walked along the sea wall in this strange new world, I was reminded of a pledge I made to my husband 33 years ago.

READ MORE HERE @COLLEGEVILLEINSTITUTE.ORG