Stain Glass Lens of the 21st Century

Category: Inspirational

  • Flowers of the Hours

    Flowers of the Hours

    Photo by Chulpan Gallyamova/Unsplash

    Have you ever noticed how the twelve months of the year line up with the first twelve hours on a clock? 

    Midnight to one a.m. is January with its quiet darkness followed by two a.m. the equally dark month of February; these are the restful months of deepening as roots do into the soil. 

    New life begins to appear in March, the 3rd month of the year; the quiet hour of three a.m.   This is the time of sprouting and breaking free from the soil.  The slight rays of the sun begin to lighten the sky around 4 a.m. just as April, the 4th month of the year, carries us into the dawning of spring bringing with it Snow Drops, shy little Crocuses and tiny new leaves on each tree. 

    By May we arrive to the celebration of Tulips, Daffodils, and the highly perfumed Hyacinths followed by the brilliance of June which explodes with colour from the top of each tree down to the tiniest wild flower among the grasses.   

    The monthly pace of each hour occurred to me this past week as the Tiger Lilies filled the gardens and waved from alongside the roadways.  The Lilacs, Bleeding Hearts and Peonies have come and gone signally the early summer’s passing and now we are in the time of Daisies, Delphiniums, and Columbines; which means we are at half past July already!

    Before we know it the hour of the Poppies, Black-Eyed Susans and Foxgloves will arrive filling the garden with whimsy while quietly drawing us closer to “a quarter to autumn” and, without much fanfare the Chrysanthemums, Sunflowers and Purple Fountain Grass will usher in the tenth hour and we will find ourselves in the roar of autumn colours.

    Each month is part of a whole; a bouquet of beauty.  May we all pause long enough and often enough to capture the beauty of each hour.

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

  • Death Came For Tea

    Death Came For Tea

    Nikolay Osmachko/Pexels

    Last week Death came for tea and stayed the afternoon.  We shared in chocolate cake, sugar cookies, conversation and a few good laughs.

    One of the women of the church had arranged for a ‘Death Café’ inviting a Death Doula (someone trained to accompany the dying) to lead and encourage conversation. One may think an afternoon of discussing death would be sad or depressing but it was quite the opposite.  Our afternoon was full of stories, plans and laughter. 

    Why would we spend a lovely summer afternoon discussing death?  Because it is important we each remember our death is pending in order to capture the grandeur of each moment.  The average lifespan is around 80 years which works out to 4,160 weeks.  Or, to put it into another perspective, we each have 80 winters, 80 springs, 80 summers and 80 autumns.  To remember our death is to remember how very valuable each season is.  This remembering should cause us all to slow down, look around and savor the passing beauty.

    The stoics taught there is wisdom in reminding ourselves daily of our impending death. Seneca, one of the greatest stoics, “reminds us that death is something that’s happening here, even as you read this. The time that passes belongs to death, he says. What is lived we never get back. We are dying every minute, every second. When we hurry we are speeding that along” (The Daily Stoic). 

    May we all slow down this summer and soak in the irreplaceable beauty of each moment,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

  • “Poling Up” The Beans

    “Poling Up” The Beans

    Photo by Annie Spratt/Unsplash

    It has been a great spring for vegetable gardens!  I spent this morning pulling up weeds, thinning the onions and “poling up” the beans.

    “Poling up” the beans has become a daily task.  I speak sweetly to each little green bean plant while gently encouraging the vines to grow up the thin bamboo sticks. Each day I leave them delicately wrapped around the poles in the right direction only to return the next morning to their wandering ways. 

    As I, again, gather the vines from the patch of peas, soil and from wandering towards the tomatoes I whisper sweet nothings while rewrapping them around the poles.  Tomorrow will be the same and yet, I will happily redirect them.

    It was green beans that first hooked me on gardening. During grade three we each were given a clear plastic cup, a wad of wet paper towel and a bean seed.  With an indelible marker we placed our names on the cup, wrapped the seed in wet paper towel, placed it in the cup and picked our spot on the windowsill; than we waited.   

    The excitement of witnessing the daily growth of that tiny black seed has never left me.  This excitement is only matched by the day I proudly display the first pickings from the garden.  It may only be a radish or a meager offering of lettuce but there is nothing in the world that tastes as divine as the first “fruits” of the vegetable garden.

    Philosopher Francis Bacon reminds us that “God Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures.”  So, this week as we officially head into summer 2022 may we all spend these cherished days doing that which adds to our joy, increases our awe and fills our soul with delight.  

    Happy Summer Everyone,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel 

  • Belonging

    Belonging

    Photo by Tim Mossholder/Unsplash

    There is a memorable lesson I have done with the children at church on Sunday mornings. I invite all the children to come forward and sit in the front pew. I hand each of them a stick and after the count down, “3-2-1 go!”  They all break their sticks in two.

    This is always followed by laughter! 

    Then I have them bring me the broken sticks and together we gather them into one bundle and bind them with a string before asking, “Do you think we can break these sticks now?”  And, no matter how many tricks we try that bundle of sticks will not break.

    The moral of the story being, we are stronger in community then when we try to do life all on our own.  We all need to reach out to others both in giving support and in receiving it; this is how we become strong together.  As Mother Teresa said, “We all belong to each other.”

    I thought of this lesson recently as I witnessed a widow move from the home he and his wife shared.  After 60 years of marriage she had died rather suddenly and in his grief he decided to go it alone.  However, after 7 months he was ready to step back into community.  After touring many lovely options he chose the right one for himself.  So with help from family and friends he moved his most cherished belongings into a smaller place inside a retirement community.

    At first he felt lost and his grief seemed to deepen.  However, those already living in this community were quick to knock on his door, invite him out for conversation, coffee and one afternoon for musical entertainment. 

    It was this afternoon that changed everything.  The musical guest stopped part way through her performance and from the stage she noticed him.  They made eye contact and with his smile and nod of the head she knew it was him; a fellow musician whom she had shared the stage with many times in the past.  She quickly introduced him to everyone and shared a few memories of their performances.

    Before leaving that afternoon this man was asked if he would help pull together a “home band” for the residence since there already was a pianist, guitarist and a singer.  What they needed was a drummer and a manager; would he mind being both? 

    He entered his apartment later that day and knew he was home. 

    Henri Nouwen, a Dutch Catholic Priest, author, theologian and best known for his ability to create and foster community for individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities wrote, “The best of community does give one a deep sense of belonging and well-being; and in that sense community takes away loneliness.”

    May we all be blessed with a sense of belonging and may we foster belonging for others,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

  • Refreshing Truth

    Refreshing Truth

    Every spring it is an event to set up the birdbaths in our yard.  There is the most recent one, a teal green porcelain birdbath that goes in the front flower bed by the roses, second is the birdbath gifted to me by my sister-in-law that goes in the flower bed beside the driveway and the most meaningful birdbath goes in the same spot it has stood for the past 25 years.

    It was a big deal the day we purchased this birdbath; we made it a family event!  With our three young children in tow we drove all the way up to Walter’s Falls where a young man was trying to make a living creating birdbaths, statues and flower urns out of cement.   He allowed my three children, all toddlers at the time, to carefully walk among his creations until they finally decided which birdbath we would call our own.  Once home, they helped to place it and each added a cup full of water.

    The week prior to the purchase of this birdbath I had preached at a church in our hometown and the congregation insisted on paying me.  It was the first time I had gotten paid to preach and, as far as I knew, it may have been the last time. So, my husband and I decided these funds should go to something special; something that would honour all it represented. 

    This past week I set up this birdbath.  Within minutes a Robin stopped by to try it out.  I stood back and watched as the bird was refreshed both by a sip of water and by the bath that followed.  This is what I had hoped, that the birdbath would welcome and refresh those who came to it. The same was true of the sermon I preached that Sabbath day so long ago.  

    As I watched the Robin, difficult questions arose in my mind, “Why do I preach?  Why do people come to listen?  What should I preach in these post pandemic days? Has the message changed over the past 25 years?”

    In the bottom left drawer of my desk is a tape of that very sermon from 25 years ago; the AV guy had recorded it.  I listened and discovered the message that day was the same message I had prepared for this past Sunday based on a sermon the Apostle Paul had preached close to 2000 years ago.

     Paul preaches that our one true God is always near to us, ‘For in him we live and move and have our being….and this God calls us kin.” (Acts 1:28)   We have a God who wants to be in relationship with us.  Who loves us unconditionally and who offers us new beginnings daily.

    That message is the same today as it was 25 years ago as it was 2000 years ago.  The truth doesn’t change; the good news of the Gospel remains the same. 

    May we all be refreshed by deepening our relationship with this God of love; a crazy love that chases after us every day.

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel   

  • The Teachings of Spring

    The Teachings of Spring

    Photo by Oyster Haus/Pexels

    Spring is the season of new beginnings; a time when all the harshness and bitter cold of winter is forgiven.  This is a season that teaches the relevance of letting go of the past and embracing the gift of new life.

    The cold north wind slowly turns southward bringing with it seeds of growth and melodies of promises fulfilled.  These are the promises of newness but only for those who are brave enough to reach out with wide open hands, daring to let go of what has been ready to grasp the new thing about to happen.       

    It is the same in life; either we decide to let go of those things that hold us to the prickly past or we end up with a bitter winter chill deep in our souls.  It isn’t easy to let go, to forgive those moments of pain and move on.  As Mahatma Gandhi said, “The weak can never forgive.  Forgiveness is an attribute of the strong.”

    It takes strength to forgive and let go, but we do it for our own freedom.  This freedom leads to warm breezes, unexpected sunshine and moments of pure divine joy!  Spring doesn’t wait for winter to apologize, instead, with spunk and a bit of grit spring brings forth new life daily.

    Perhaps this is why spring is so adored.  It has the audacity to embrace life despite all the darkness of the world, not allowing the shadows to dim its light

    May we all embrace this divine light.

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

  • All Are Welcome

    All Are Welcome

    Photo by Jon Tyson/Unsplash

    We come to worship every week, saints and sinners; two sides of the same coin. Gathering to sing praises, studying scriptures, utter prayers and share in fellowship.   We gather not as a perfect people but as those seeking to become a holy people; holy in God’s sight. 

    And we know we are not alone; the bible is full of sinners like us transformed by the love of Jesus.  We read of Jesus welcoming the boastful, the prostitute, the tax collectors, the selfish, and even the hypocrite. In fact the Apostle Paul, the one credited with writing most of the New Testament, claims himself to be a hypocrite, “For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.” (Romans 7:19)

    Perhaps that is the only place where holiness can begin; the honest place of self-awareness.  Paul knew of his own short comings and brought them before Jesus.  

    And so, to all those who are imperfect, seeking to find a place of refuge in a difficult world, I say, “Come as you are and find a place among us where sinners sing and saints pray.  Where hypocrites are welcome and the lonely find belonging; come and break bread with us and find that in our imperfections we celebrate a perfect love made available to all.” 

    Come to worship, for a warm welcome waits!

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

  • Gems of Promise

    Gems of Promise

    It was later than usual when we headed out for our Sunday evening stroll.   Certainly there was some grumbling as we zipped up our warmer jackets and pulled our collars close against the chilly breeze. 

    Despite the calendar reading May 1st it felt more like early October and the joyful calls of the Canadian Geese overhead only added to the autumn feel.

    Perhaps it was due to the lessening day light or just the tiredness we each carried after a long day but without discussion we turned toward the “short cut” through the woods.  The melody of the Sydenham River carried us over tree roots and around the bare bushes.

    Looking upward I scoured the bare trees begging for any sign of spring be it a bud, a nest or better yet, a tiny new leaf. I was disappointed.  That is until we came around a small bend and beside the trail, among the decaying leaves and small sprouts of grass we discovered them.

    They were congregated in a graceful silence as though praying the very promise they represented.  I gasped and my husband turned back, he too bent down and together we were held in awe by their delicate beauty.

    Each tiny new trillium proudly held out three leaves in a curtsy and they stretched tall displaying their curled up petals with pride, as if to say, “Look here, look here! We are about to do something magical!”

    It was a sight to behold.  The promise of new life can be held back by cool breezes and stubborn snowfall but it cannot be stopped entirely.  As Martin Luther wrote, “Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime.”

    We snapped photos wanting to capture this moment. Of course nothing can truly capture the wonder we each felt deep within; a reverence of God’s finer things.  These moments are fleeting, filling us with an awe that spurs us onward while also filling us with an undeniable awareness of God’s divine presence.

    Held by their charm we lingered until the day light was almost a whisper on the horizon.   We returned home trusting in their magic, knowing at just the right moment their beauty would carpet the forest.

    May God’s beauty also take you by surprise,   

    Rev. Heather McCarrel 

  • Dancing In The Rain

    Dancing In The Rain

    Photo by Robert Bottman (Unsplash)

    The long awaited daffodils have finally begun to bloom in my neighborhood.  I didn’t notice them until later in the day, I spied their brightness among the grey trees and wet soil.

     I pulled over at the end of the street to admire their beauty through my rain dappled windows and discovered many were dotting the wild undergrowth of the treed lot.  It seemed the darker the spot the brighter they shone; as though it was a challenge they were rising to.   

    That is the true essence of Easter, isn’t it?  To shine brightly despite the darkness; discovering the strength to rise again after defeat and to believe in new beginnings after painful endings.  It is resurrection work and only taken on by the strong of heart.     

    If we are not careful we leave the true message of Easter behind in the sanctuary with the tossed aside bulletins.  We make the mistake of thinking Easter is merely a celebratory worship service held once a year with special music and extra decorations.  We forget that Easter is a way of life, a way of living in our ordinary and everyday world.   

    We may miss the true calling of Easter which is to follow Jesus into a new life.  This newness is not void of difficulties but joyful and hope filled despite the hardships. It is living under the cloak of gratitude and confidence knowing we are truly loved and tenderly held by an amazing Creator.  It is finding the bright yellow glow of God’s presence within the rain drops and among the greyness.

    As Vivian Greene writes, “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s learning to dance in the rain!” As a Resurrection People may we all remember to dance in the storms trusting we do not dance alone, assured that a loving God accompanies us all the way!

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

  • In A Word

    In A Word

    Photo by Pixaby/Pexels

    While at a meeting recently all those present were asked, “If you could describe your experience of the pandemic in one word, what would that word be?”

    I fumbled badly and it took me several words to finally conclude that the one word would be “faith”.  It was by faith that I journeyed the pandemic.

    This faith wasn’t a store bought faith with easy answers and platitudes printed on pretty cards. It wasn’t a faith that made the journey clear; there were twists, turns, and times of deep uncertainty.  As Martin Luther King, Jr wrote, “Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.” It certainly was a faith of unseen steps.  

    As I reflect on the past two years I clearly see times when I riled against God questioning God’s wisdom and presence and also times when I sat in silence refusing to meet God even in prayer. It takes a deep faith to turn to God and admit disappointment and discouragement in God’s seemingly lack of interest or care.  That was the kind of faith that held me during this difficult time, an honest faith that dared to turn toward God demanding answers and when receiving none; returning again to what seemed like a one- sided conversation.

    Ironically, my faith deepened in those silent moments and now, as I look back it is with gratitude that despite the profound difficulties I experienced God’s presence in more subtle and unseen ways.  I suspect this dark time steeped me in God’s ways of steadfastness and endurance.

    It was with this faith that I firmly put my feet on the floor every morning and stepped into each day.  I deliberately chose faith over fear even when choosing faith seemed ridiculous.  “Every tomorrow has two handles.  We can take hold of it with the handle of anxiety or the handle of faith.”  (Henry Ward Beecher) I chose the handle of faith and it has made all the difference.

    What one word would you use to describe your experience of the pandemic?

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel