Stain Glass Lens of the 21st Century

Category: hopeful

  • Spreading Seeds of Care, Connection, and Community

    Spreading Seeds of Care, Connection, and Community

    The best part of going away is coming home again!  My husband and I took a mini holiday this past week. We decided to spend a few days in a popular destination prior to the height of the tourist season.  The hotel, known for its luxury, didn’t disappoint nor did its reputation for friendly and welcoming staff; we will be going back.  The restaurants were not only full of charming atmosphere, and friendly staff but the food was also delicious.   

    What did surprise me were the tourists.   Folks seemed less friendly then I remember.  If a group of us were in an elevator, no one spoke or when a group of us were in the same tour group one afternoon, everyone was polite but certainly not friendly. It seemed that folks have become more insular, less interested in connecting, even in the slightest way, with others around them.  As I observed this change in human behavior I found myself asking, “When did this start to happen?  Is this the result of too much time spent on social media?  Is this a by-product of the pandemic? ” I was puzzled by what I was witnessing.   

    It wasn’t until our first evening home that the puzzle was solved. We had stopped at the corner store to purchase a bag of milk.  As I was leaving the store a young man fell in step behind me.  He was balancing several bottles of pop and a few bags of potato chips.  There was dust all over him from the top of his work hat, across his work shirt covering most of the logo from a local construction company, and all the way down to his work boots.   He looked to be on his way home from a long day.  Not wanting to slow him down I stepped aside and said, “You go ahead of me, I move rather slow these days.” 

    He responded, “That’s okay.  I’m in no hurry.” 

    He stepped ahead of me and walking through the automated doors he turned and held the door open with his shoulder and said, “Just in case it begins to close on you, I will hold it.”  I smiled and thanked him, knowing he had just solved the puzzle for me. 

    The reason folks down in the city seemed so indifferent to each other is because they don’t live where I live.  In the town I live we hold doors for each other, we smile and chit chat even with strangers and we most certainly care for the other. 

    His actions reminded me of the saying, ‘Humankind: be both!’

    As the first long weekend of the summer arrives may the hospitality of our small communities warm the hearts of the tourists and be carried back to the cities; seeds of care, connection and community.  

    Happy Summer,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by Gary Barnes/Pexels

  • Summer Solstice Has Arrived!

    Summer Solstice Has Arrived!

    Today, Thursday June 20th, 2024, at about 4:50 p.m. we will experience the moment of perfect balance! This is the day when the sun reaches its highest and northernmost point in the sky, according to the Farmer’s Almanac, marking the first day of astronomical summer; the summer solstice.

    “The summer solstice occurs in the northern hemisphere when the northern half of the globe has its closest tilt towards the sun.  Conversely, it’s also when the southern hemisphere experiences the winter solstice, as the southern half of the globe is at its furthest tilt away from the Sun.” (Adler Planetarium)

    Traditionally the summer solstice has been celebrated in many ways such as Midsummer Festivals which include bonfires, picnics, singing, maypole dancing, and hikes to elevated heights either to witness the sunrise or sunset.  Some take to the beach as a means of commencing their summer rituals of sailing, surfing, or simply sun bathing.  Others plan a special meal with friends and family marking this special day with a BBQ and a backyard celebration.

    Author Sarah Ban Breathnach reminds us that “One way of celebrating the Solstice is to consider it a sacred time of reflection, release, restoration, and renewal.”

    However you may mark the solstice remember that today affords us 15 hours of day light to inaugurate the summer with deliberate joy, celebration, and fun; the perfect way to begin this most welcomed season. 

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by Travis Rupert/Pexels

  • Why Write?

    Why Write?

    A few folks have asked me recently why I had stopped writing.  Perhaps it was the darkness of winter that had seeped deep into my bones resulting in a tiredness that weakened me.  Or, perhaps it was a winter sleepiness that, like a cloud of scentless poison, had lulled me into a dull haze.  I am not entirely sure.  It just felt that my small voice was no match for the looming issues facing us all.  

    Such issues as homelessness which seems to have grown into a global pandemic matched only by the surreal number of accidental overdoses and both pale in comparison to the global environmental catastrophes reported daily.

    It all had silenced me.

    Until early in spring, before dawn one morning I heard this lone bird singing a thin melody.  I stepped out in the predawn darkness searching skyward; no other bird had joined the song and yet, it continued to sing. Something in its refrain struck a chord deep within me, encouraging me to rise again and join my simple voice against the darkness.

    This courageous birdsong reminded me that there is still some worthiness in this worn out world.  There is beauty, kindness, and goodness still to be found; the world hasn’t gone entirely to rot.

    My voice may rise in a whisper offering little wisdom except the observation of what beauty I find.  As I recently read, “We do not see the world as it is, we see it as we are.” 

    May we all reside within a place that hears the little bird singing in the darkness of a beautiful world.

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by lil artsy/Pixels

  • Night Calls

    Night Calls

    It was in the wee hours of the morning that they woke me.  At first, I wondered if I had dreamt it but as I lay awake their calls filled my darkened room.  Getting up and quietly pulling on my slippers I leaned against the open screen and listened more deliberately.

    Sure enough, they were out there.  Not one but most likely two or more owls screeching and hooting; each marking their territory.  Carefully I opened the door to the patio and slipped out unnoticed.  I wanted to enjoy their conversation for as long as I could.

    Their hollow hoots took me back to a night many years earlier in the same back yard.  We all were gathered around a camp fire and my three young children, no older than 9 or 10, heard an owl for the first time.  As we silently listened to the haunting call the camp fire flames danced in the night creating a most desired effect; it was a night we won’t forget.  The awe I felt that night returned as I now sat alone listening deeply from the back deck.

    Earlier that night I had prayed asking for words, the kind of words a minister is to preach on a Sunday following a week of terrible headlines. That week we had witnessed wild fires strip thousands of acres of land, homeless people pitch make shift tents in city centres, random stabbings on the Toronto subway, and locally we had the deaths of two young promising youth.

    These owls had arrived to answer that very prayer.  Their timelessness reminded me of God’s great mystery, awe, and eternal presence.   

    As the owls flew away leaving behind the wind whispering through the pine trees I knew I had my answer.  As First Nation’s writer, Richard Wagamese once wrote, “I know that the price of faith is the courage to walk through anything with belief in immaculate love-and the value of faith is eternal.” 

    There is eternal value in trusting God’s love, participating in the great mystery and remaining open to God’s un-chartable awe.

    Blessing,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by Erik Karits/Pexels

  • Writing Our Stories

    Writing Our Stories

    It was 17 years ago that I accepted a new position titled “End of Life Chaplain”.    My pay came from a large corporation whose focus was the care of the elderly in over 400 long term care and assisted living facilities across the country.  I was hired to help 4 of those facilities.

    Two coronaviruses later (SARs and COVID) and 17 years of experience have resulted in many changes; both to myself and the setting in which I serve.   My title now is “Spiritual Care Provider” and I work for a local Health Care Service in a hospice setting.   

    Despite the clinical changes over the years human nature has remained much the same.  As I accompany those and their close friends and family toward death, I have learned the power of story.  To listen to the stories of other people’s lives; witnessing their struggles, sacrifices, regrets, achievements, and joy is a profound privilege.

    Rarely do I hear stories of things accumulated.  Those summarizing their lives tend not to list what furniture they had or how many homes they owned.  Not once has anyone told me what kind of car they drove or how much Gucci they had in their closets. Instead, I have stood witness to childhood memories, stories of perseverance over trials, and setbacks recovered. There are always stories of love; the kind of love that leaves its impression on one’s life, the love of parents, siblings, spouses, children, pets, and dear friends.  These are the stories that matter at the end of it all.

    These are stories of how each has filled their space in the world; how their lives came to have meaning and this meaning is significant.   

    Concentration camp survivor, Viktor E. Frankl wrote in his book, Man’s Search For Meaning, “Everyone has their own specific vocation or mission in life; everyone must carry out a concrete assignment that demands fulfillment. Therein they cannot be replaced, nor can life be repeated. Thus, everyone’s task is unique as is their specific opportunity to implement it.”

    It is never too late to rewrite the story of our lives asking, “how am I filling my space in the world?”  

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by Angela Roma/Pexels

  • June’s Arrival

    June’s Arrival

    The arrival of June was announced several days prior to June 1st.   Perhaps it was the excitement of this most happiest of  months that spurred the flowers to celebrate a few days earlier or maybe they just could not hold off any longer.

    The unmistakable fragrance of June seeped into the bedding drying on the clothsline and found its way into the mudroom perfuming our garden gloves and hanging raincoats.  It is a powerful elixir, causing one to stop dead in their tracks, distracted by its unexpected beauty wiping clear any former intentions.

    I stood transfixed in the driveway, forgetting why I had even ventured out.  It was as though a fog overtook me, a mix of Lilly of the Valley, Lilac, Crabapple blossoms, and Hyacinth aromas, combined to such a heavenly scent I stood, eyes shut,  smelling the air like a drunken fool. As British author, Beverley Nicols, writes, “To be overcome by the fragrance of flowers is a delectable form of defeat.” 

    May we all be defeated by this most rewarding fragrance, rendering us useless with its calming and satisfying effects and may we all pause to bask in all that June has to offer.

    Happy June Everyone,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by Tina Sara/Unsplash

  • The Long Weekend

    The Long Weekend

    Finally, the May long weekend has arrived!  Three days of rest, relaxation and time spent with family and friends.

    We deserve a few days of spring celebration after what has been dubbed, “The darkest winter in 80 years” by the United States National Weather Services.  In fact, Southern Ontario saw the least amount of sunshine than just about anywhere else in all of North America.

    Couple this with the chilly north wind which outstayed its welcome this past spring and we all are due for a few days of warmth and sunshine.

    Friday began calm with a warm breeze and a hint of sunshine.  By noon folks appeared with rakes, hoes, and flats of bedding plants eager to get started on beautifying their yards.  It was a productive day with happiness not witnessed in months. 

    Then, as if on cue, just as the workday was ending a dark ominous cloud slowly made its way over the Bay and by early evening the rainfall had begun.

    We sat listening to its steady drumming commenting on the beauty of its rhythm; grateful that the dry lawns and gardens were receiving warm sustenance.

    Two hours later this rain seemed less romantic and by bedtime we knew the long weekend was a bust.   The weather forecast shared news of rain and lots of it for the next 24 hours. 

    However, it is the early dawn as I write, and the view is remarkable. A soft mist has settled in some low-lying spots and the hours of warm rain encouraged the maple leaves, stunted by the cold north wind, to fully realize their growth.  There is vibrancy all around.

    The maple trees have filled in making it difficult to see through to the other side and a green carpet stretches across the yard dotted with happy dandelions.  The crabapple trees are in full bloom adding a celebratory brightness while the pastel shades of magnolia blossoms deepen the beauty.  Perhaps this won’t be the long weekend we had hoped for, but it may just be the long weekend we need.

    Whatever the weather in your part of the world, may this be a blessed time of growth, greening and renewal.  

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by Mateusz Stepien/Unsplash

  • When The Cold Returns

    When The Cold Returns

    After having days of sunshine, warm spring temperatures and budding flowers winter has returned.  In a matter of one day we went from sundresses and shorts back to mittens and wooly toques.

    We could be discouraged by this return of cold gray days or we could be grateful for the week of warmth we enjoyed.  Often life brings us to moments of choice, moments when we stand at the cross roads of doubt or faith, hope or despair, gratitude or regret.  How we respond determines a lot on our situation.  There are times of despair and regret just as there are times of hope and gratitude.  How long we linger in each is entirely up to us.

    At first I was grumbling as I dug out warm socks and a sweater but realized these grumblings only left me feeling sad and discourage.  So, I decided to try a different outlook. I silently offered a prayer of gratitude for the morning spent sitting under the empty maple tree watching the birds, the first BBQ supper of the year and the evening when we reclined on the back deck admiring the stars.  What wonderful memories to warm these chillier days.

    Besides, we know these chilly days are numbered.  These are the days we enjoy our last bowl of chili or beef stew until autumn, the days that afford us time to switch out our winter clothes with the summer fair.  Each moment holds so much to cherish.  As Matt Haig writes, “We just have to close our eyes and savor the taste of the drink in front of us and listen to the song as it plays.” (Midnight Library).

    May you find reason to rejoice on these last dull days of the northern breeze trusting that warmer days are just around the corner.

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel  

    Photo by Jack Blueberry/Unsplash

  • The Seeds Have Arrived!

    The Seeds Have Arrived!

    What an exciting day; the day the seeds arrive!  These small colourful packets bring magic and joy to an otherwise dull February day transporting me to warm afternoons spent toiling under the sun.  Each packet holds small pearls of hope.  

    The shriveled up peas, tiny radish seeds and the sprinkling of promised lettuce looks insignificant to anyone who has never coaxed life from a garden. But, to those who know of its lure, these packets harken to autumn pleasures of full fruit cellars, preserves and hanging herbs.  These tiny gems are deceptive in their power, tenacity and transformation.

    Lent is a “seedy” season; a season of great transformation.  We deliberately turn inward to examine our personal relationship with God all the while moving steadily toward a crucified death. And, like a seed planted in the dark soil, the darkness cannot stop life from emerging.   Similarly, this Lenten journey brings us to a resurrection that teaches death does not have the final word.    

    So, yes, Lent is the perfect time for the seeds to arrive! As Jesus taught, “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all your seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and perch in its branches.”

    May we all have a “Seedy” Lent that transforms these darken winter days to days of spring flowers, bird song and joyful celebration.

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by Krista Bennett/Unsplash  

  • Poking Holes In The Dark

    Poking Holes In The Dark

    Jesus tells us that we are the light of the world and we are to shine His light for all to see; “do not hide it under a bushel”, he warns (Matthew 5:16).  Hearing these words always reminds me of the author Robert Louis Stevenson who is best known for works such as Treasure Island and Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  I once read a story from his childhood that illustrates what it means to be Christ’s light in the world.

    As a child Robert Louis Stevenson was in very poor health.  One night, when he was quite sick, his nurse found him with his nose pressed against the frosty pane of his bedroom window.  “Child, come away from there.  You’ll catch your death of cold,”   but young Robert would not budge.  He was mesmerized as he watched an old lamplighter slowly work his way through the black night lighting each street lamp along his route.  “See, look there,” Robert pointed, “There’s a man poking a hole in the darkness.” 

    That is what we are called to do, poke holes in the darkness.  To be Christ’s light means we go into dark places and share God’s love, forgiveness and acceptance.  These dark places may be grief, poverty, illness, injustices and loneliness. 

    It takes courage and faith to be Christ’s light in a darkened world.  So often the world rewards the “winner” at the risk of many “losers”.  What would TV be like today if we took out the competition to be the best and instead just celebrated everyone’s unique talents?  What if everyone received second place and praising God came in first place?  Then we would see the light everywhere! 

    We need not do grand acts that bring us a lot of attention and accolades, as Neal A. Maxwell writes, “Small lights have a way of being seen in a dark world.” Simple acts as taking time to listen to each other, building each other up and speaking words of love produce a powerful light.   

    Dwight L. Moody put it best when he preached, “We are told to let our light shine, and if it does, we won’t need to tell anybody it does. Lighthouses don’t fire cannons to call attention to the shining—they just shine.”

    Go and be a lighthouse,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by Evgeni Tcherkasski/Unsplash