Stain Glass Lens of the 21st Century

Category: Rural

  • Easter Renewal

    Easter Renewal

    Easter Sunday is almost here!  This is the day we pause in the midst of all life holds and acknowledge the power of our great Creator to “do a new thing”.  It isn’t about knowing.  It is about faith.  We don’t know what “new thing” God is about to do but we have faith it will be good. Like the women who arrived to an empty tomb, we too acknowledge the wonder, confusion and even the trepidation that goes along with God’s “new thing”.

    If I have learned anything as a Country Preacher it is that country folks know better than most how to trust in God’s “new thing”.    As the muddy days of early spring turn into days of productivity the almost barren fields turn to shades of green as neatly planted rows of seeds bud.  The once barren trees begin to fill with tiny leaves and the mucky ditches are transformed by colourful spring flowers.  Yes, this “new thing” God is up to becomes evident with each new day.

    We will gather on Good Friday to witness the uncomfortable funeral of our Savior.  We will sing the hymns ‘The Old Rugged Cross’ and ‘Were You There?’ before snuffing out the Christ Candle and leaving the sanctuary in silence.  We will return in a jubilant mood two days later!

    Easter Sunday has always been a cause for celebration!  Extra decorations are placed in the sanctuary, the black cloth on the cross is replaced by white and folks arrive with an extra spring to their step and a joyful ring to their singing. 

    This Easter we will add a new decoration to our sanctuary; two Ukrainian blown Easter Eggs.  At one church I served there was a member who came from a Ukrainian family and he had the gift of creating these beautiful eggs. Over the years I served in his church he gifted me twice with these priceless masterpieces. They have a special place in my china cabinet, but this year, in honour of our prayers and concerns for the Ukraine people, they will be placed on the Communion Table.  May they be a reminder of those who are displaced and in great need of “God’s New Thing”.

    We will gather at sunrise on the shores of Georgian Bay at the base of a cross and together, with the waves and birds, sing of God’s newness. Later in the morning we will gather again in a stain glassed sanctuary ready to lift the roof with the traditional hymn, “Jesus Christ Is Risen Today”!

    May the renewal of life at Easter bring new blessings of love, hope, peace, happiness and good health to everyone!

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

  • A One Eyed Dog & A Hand Dug Grave

    A One Eyed Dog & A Hand Dug Grave

    Photo by Annie Spratt/Unsplash

    Country Cemeteries always remind me of a one eyed dog, hand dug graves and musty sanctuaries.

    The reason for this is due to an incident that happened early in my ministry.   My presence had been requested at a grave side service for a family that lived in Toronto.  This family had, years earlier, purchased plots in the cemetery related to one of the, now closed, churches of my pastoral charge.  I was asked to preside at the grave side service of a deceased elderly male.  His wife and adult children, along with the Funeral Home staff, would drive the 3 hours north from Toronto and meet me at the cemetery at 1:00 p.m. 

    Upon my arrival on that hot and humid July day I was met by a friendly one eyed dog that took his job as host very seriously and kept close to me for the remainder of the day.  It soon became clear that this cemetery was his home and among the long grass and weeds one had to step carefully.  I made my way to a dirt covered man who was busy digging the grave with a pitch fork and shovel; that was the way of grave digging in this neck of the woods.  Before returning to his work Syd told me that this was the last plot to be filled in this cemetery and it would be officially full. 

    About half an hour later, off in the distance, I saw a hearse approaching followed by a few cars.  It was then that the Syd approached looking a bit upset and asked if I had a key to the old church building beside the cemetery.  Yes, I did have the key but the building, which leaned dangerously to one side, was condemned.  “Open it up and have the family wait in there.  We have a problem.”

    I nervously unlocked and slowly opened the heavy doors of this tired old building to be met by an earie scene.  The hymn numbers were still in the hymn board at the front of the sanctuary, hymn books were laying on the torn pews, candles poised on the communion table and an open Bible laid across the pulpit.  It looked as though a worship service had just happened days earlier.  I stood in the silence almost expecting to hear singing rise out of nowhere.  As the confused family filed in they also paused, looked around and carefully took seats close to the back doors.  The musty space did offer a break from the oppressive heat that hung just outside the doors and for this we were thankful.  I went back outside to discover what problem had arisen.     

    A rather upset Funeral Director approached me in his three piece black suit and while wiping his forehead explained that Syd had discovered a body was already in the plot!  In complete disbelief I looked over to the plot to see Syd and three others looking down.

    After some discussion and a confession by one of the sons the mystery was solved.  It turned out another family member had been buried there four years earlier; an estranged son of the deceased.  We were told that this son had been estranged from the family for many years, caught up in the wrong crowd and one night had died.  Not wanting to upset his parents this son arranged his brother’s burial in this forgotten cemetery.  Thankfully, it was the same funeral home four years earlier that had accompanied his mother on this hot July day.  After a few phone calls it was confirmed that this burial had been recorded, they had paper work to prove who was in the plot and there was no criminal intent.  With Syd’s quick thinking a second plot was quickly dug.    

    I asked this one son to take me to sit with his mother as he explained what had happened.  The mother did not speak English but no words were needed for me to understand her grief; the language of a mother is universal.  I sat with her as she grappled with the news of her son’s death while waiting to bury her husband.  Perhaps the setting of an old, sad looking sanctuary fit the scene perfectly. 

    Eventually, we made our way out to the plot and with the one eyed dog by my side we continued the service.  The Mother did not understand a single word I said but she did understand the actions and when we were done she knelt down at both plots and marked them with the sign of the cross before standing tall and walking back to the car. 

    Syd, the one eyed dog and I stood silently by as this sad procession headed down the road toward Toronto.

    Each Halloween I think of that sad day so long ago and wonder what other odd and unusual stories are hidden among the graves of old country cemeteries.

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

  • Is It The End or The Beginning of Something Exciting?

    Is It The End or The Beginning of Something Exciting?

    Photo by Sapan Patel/Unsplash

    Labour Day weekend is a hinge weekend; it starts in a summer frame of mind with thoughts of evening camp fires, afternoons spent at the beach and BBQ suppers.  By the time Sunday evening arrives our thoughts have turned towards autumn. Over this long weekend we move from the space of bright and sunny summer days into the space of cozy yet busy days of autumn, hence why it is called a hinge weekend.

    Change is in the air.   As the days shorten and the evenings grow longer the Canadian Geese practice their flight formations overhead, fields of soybeans are turning into their rich autumn colours and migrating birds are gathering on the hydro wires.  Teachers, school bus drivers and parents alike are strategizing the best ways possible to enter another COVID -19 school year.  Meanwhile, others are plotting changes to their home décor gladly planning for cooler evenings spent by the fireplace and the donning of favorite autumn sweaters.  For many it is time to turn over the vegetable garden and spend time pickling or freezing its produce.

    This change cannot be stopped so it may as well be enjoyed.  As Socrates wisely wrote, “The secret of change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new.”  This new season guarantees to be full of God’s glory, beauty and joy if we decide to seek out all the newness and goodness being offered.

    May this new season be full of hidden joys waiting for your discovery,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel   

  • Tools Of The Trade

    Tools Of The Trade

    Photo by Christopher Osten/Unsplash

    As a rural minister, I have taken to carrying certain items in my little Subaru that otherwise I would not.  Thanks to Mary Beth at Kemble-Sarawak United Church who, upon my arrival, met me saying, “Your GPS won’t always work on these backroads and if you are like most folks, you won’t have one of these.” And she handed me a folded roadmap which I gratefully placed in my glove box.

    One afternoon at another rural church I served I received a phone call by a church member asking if I could come to their farm immediately. Leaving a meeting, I arrived promptly in a lovely floral dress, nylons and a pair of pretty flats.  Imagine my surprise when told the pastoral emergency was in the barn! By the time I arrived to the dying animal, I was ankle deep in mud and manure.  Turned out, one of their beloved sheep was dying and in need of prayer.  This was kinda my own fault because the Sunday prior I had spent the Children’s Conversation explaining that all creatures belong to God- after all is that not the point of the Noah’s Ark story?

    Since that day, I carry rubber boots! 

    Another pastoral visit resulted in me carrying dog treats because upon my arrival, three “friendly” dogs circled my van, barking loudly.   I was assured they wouldn’t bite, but until the owner opened my door I was not taking any chances.  This city girl doesn’t challenge three barking dogs!  

    I also learned that even with GPS, a cell phone and a paper map, I can still get lost.  Sometimes country folks give unhelpful directions, such as “go down the third sideroad from the church, pass the red barn and turn left at the Scott’s place.”  Only to discover the red barn was painted brown at least three years prior and the Scott’s sold the farm to someone named “Snider”!  More than once I have pulled over to the side of the road, phoned the waiting parishioner and declared, “I am lost”.   

    At one church I served, the municipality had amalgamated with its neighbour resulting in the roads being renumbered, but the parishioners refused to use the new numbers!  I learned that when they said ‘Road 24’, it was actually ‘124’ and ‘Sideroad 6’ was now ‘Sideroad 8’, and so on.  I knew I had officially become a local when they would tell me to go to Joe’s place then turn left at the Smith’s farm and then turn right at the field of soy (even though it was January), and I knew exactly where they meant!

    One other tool I have taken to carrying with me is my camera.  While driving these back country roads I have caught some amazing scenes.  One autumn day, I captured a gruesome shot of eleven Turkey Vultures sitting together on a wooden fence. Another time, I shot an eagle in full view as it soared overhead with outstretched wings. There have been amazing sunsets, incredible farming scenes of misty morning sunrises and, especially in Kemble, there are vistas of Georgian Bay from atop hilly terrain.

    Most recently, my toolbox includes other tools of the trade.  I have masks, hand sanitizer, sanitizing wipes, a lawn chair, a video camera (so to record the worship video for YouTube) and I am never without my cell phone.

    The other day my husband was cleaning up the SUV and brought in my rubber boots, bag of dog treats and the folded paper map saying, “you don’t need these!”  I quickly gathered them up and said, “Oh yes I do!”. As well as the little pair of slippers I wear when entering folks’ homes, an umbrella, the portable CD player, the Bible, Church directory, bottles of grape juice for communion, my wide brimmed sun hat and an assortment of greeting cards.  

    Certainly, the tools of my trade as a Rural Minister are different then taught at Seminary, but when I view this basket of goodies, I smile at the oddity and the joy of my calling!

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by Christopher Osten/Unsplash

  • Country “Curing”

    Country “Curing”

    Kemble-Sarawak Farm on Georgian Bay

    July 1st I arrived as the new minister at a country church: the Kemble-Sarawak, Zion-Keppel Pastoral Charge.   The ministry now runs out of two church buildings, Kemble-Sarawak United Church and Zion-Keppel United Church.  They are located along the foothills of Kemble Mountain, skirting the Kemble Mountain Management Area of the Grey Sauble Conservation Authority. Each morning I drive along panoramic views of Georgian Bay on my way to the churches and marvel at God’s beauty in the picturesque countryside.

    The folks of this pastoral charge have warmly welcomed me and my husband.  A masked Welcoming Party surprised me one morning presenting a wicker laundry basket filled to the brim with homemade preserves, jams, wines, ciders, breads, baked goods, Kemble Mountain Maple syrup, Big Bay ice cream gift certificates, and some wonderful books to read.  The basket was so large I could not possibly lift it. Each item given from different members of the churches. I was speechless.  Their generous and sincere welcome brought tears to my eyes.  It is good to be back among country folks! 

    Small country churches are big into curing!  All kinds of curing occur, the curing of loneliness, heart break, and illnesses.  They cure each other the best way they know, by the giving of themselves. 

    In one country church I served there was a woman who couldn’t tell the story of her husband’s death without crying.  This isn’t surprising except she cried more from gratitude then from her grief.  Now, don’t get me wrong, her husband’s death was the cause of profound pain for her and her family but when she shared how the folks of her country church responded to this death her tears of grief turned into tears of gratitude. 

    You see, she and her four children were new to Canada; they had arrived only 2 years earlier.  When her husband died suddenly she was left to raise her children alone in a foreign country.  When news spread of her husband’s death it wasn’t long and folks began to arrive at her front door with casseroles, homemade bread, baked goods and fresh vegetables.  And, it is in this moment of the retelling that she always begins to cry, when autumn arrived the men of the church arrived one morning without warning and by day’s end had brought in all her crops.

    She never forgot their generosity of spirit and even 20 years later, when sharing this story; her shoulders would shake from the sobbing. 

    Yes, country folks know how to cure, healing each other one loaf of bread or fresh baked pie at a time.

    In another church I served a young couple with 3 children had their house burn to the ground one morning.  It was early March and a spark from the wood stove caught something flammable in the kitchen.  By the time the flames were noticed they were jumping through the kitchen window.  Thankfully, the husband, wife and youngest child were in the barn while the two eldest were on the bus heading to school.  They lost everything except each other.

    We handed over the keys to our furnished manse, since I wasn’t using it.  Soon folks came from all around with what it took to “cure” this shattered family. Mennonites drove their wagons up the lane way and quietly dropped off roasts of beef, bags of potatoes and boxes of home baked goods.  Pickup trucks carrying new toys, clothes, bedding and even dog food for the two beloved canines arrived. Quickly a Saturday night dance was arranged in the town hall with all proceeds going to aid the family.   It was six months until they returned home; during that time I often witnessed “drop offs” as folks continued to support this family.  One Sunday morning the husband stood in my office door with tears running down his cheeks sharing his gratitude for all that had been done for him and his family.  He said God had saved his family from the fire and the community saved them from despair. 

    The author of 1 Peter 3:8 reminds us to “be like minded, be sympathetic, love one another, be compassionate and humble” and by doing so, he writes we gain blessing. But, I would add that even more than being blessed we become blessing and by so doing we join God here and now in building up the Kin-dom of God!

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Minister at Kemble & Zion United Churches

    I took the photo with this Blog just up the road from Kemble United Church; a view of Georgian Bay behind a farm (June 2021).