If pandemic living has taught us anything it is that we don’t always have control over what happens to us. Between the lock downs, necessary public health protocols and workplace restrictions we haven’t had a lot of control in our lives and nor has our opinion on these matters been requested.
However, in Canada on Sunday August 15th, 2021 that changed. Our opinion was sought in a big way to help make a most important decision. We don’t have a lot of time but there is enough time to develop an informed opinion on who we each think should lead this country. The deadline is September 20th, 2021 when finally we all will have the opportunity to make a difference.
To choose not to vote is to choose to give up on the future of this country. As Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”
So, what is your opinion? Who do you think should lead this country out of the pandemic and into a bright new future? Your opinion has been sought because it matters! Take time to prepare yourself for an informed decision on Monday, September 20th.
Her arrival was a bit unexpected. We found her in a sad situation, the runt of a rather poorly kept litter of pups in a wooden box kept in a dark and cold barn. We had gone just to take a look, but left with this wee bundle of fur in our arms. Her little ears stood straight up on a tiny head under which were two serious eyes that studied our every move. Once placed on the floor this bundle of fur would never wander far, always staying close encouraging pats of assurance. I should have been exhausted from the several “bathroom” breaks each night and the early morning play sessions, instead by day 3 I knew exactly what to name her, Abigail.
Abigail means “cause of joy” in Hebrew. In the Bible, Abigail, King David’s second wife, is described as a beautiful and intelligent woman. My canine sidekick has lived fully into her name.
Each morning as we sip our coffees and read over the difficult headlines our “Cause of Joy” lies between us having her ears massaged or her belly rubbed, as if reminding us not to despair. Each evening she brings her balls and toys dropping them at our feet as we watch the 6:00 news not allowing us time to wallow in the sadness of the world. By bedtime this “Cause of Joy” has had us out for an evening walk among the tall trees and along the babbling brook. She is our angel and I cannot imagine life without her.
Life isn’t easy these days. It never has been. There will always be difficult people, painful prognosis, frightening headlines and causes of grief. We must counter this with causes of joy.
I know one woman whose cause of joy is her house plants. Two hours each Saturday morning is dedicated to their care. Her love of plants has resulted in a degree in botany of which is the field she now works. She is blessed to have discovered a source of joy which fills her days.
Another woman tells me her joy comes from reading. She takes great delight in finding a new novel and before starting it she arranges herself in her favorite chair, with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies. Then the ceremony of meeting new characters and going on an adventure begins.
I have met several grandparents that have discovered great joy when time is spent with their grandchildren. Some even commit to babysit regularly so to fill up on that joy!
What is your cause of joy? What brings a spring to your step and a song to your heart? Fill up on this joy as often as possible; it is the antidote to all the sadness of life!
Before beginning the BLOG I would like to welcome all the new comers to the Stainglasslens; in the past two weeks there have been several new “Followers” and it has been exciting. I write weekly seeking to understand and/or celebrate God’s presence in the world, thank-you for joining me on the journey.
This Sunday we at the Kemble-Sarawak, Zion-Keppel Pastoral Charge will be meeting for in-person worship on the side lawn of the Kemble-Sarawak Church. The scripture passages we will be reflecting on are John 10:1-10 and Psalm 23. In both passages we are reminded of a Good Shepherd who cares and tends to us each.
This Good Shepherd image has been one that used to carry me through difficult times. It was comforting to think that I was a mere sheep and Jesus, as an extension of God, was my Good Shepherd who cared for and protected me from all evil. As it is written, “Who can be against me if God is for me?” (Romans 8:31)
But then life happened. There came cancer, sudden deaths, I watched 3 of my best friends die horribly agonizing deaths and then the pandemic arrived. Days of isolation, un-measurable pain, suffering, and a worldwide death toll in the millions.
Where is the Good Shepherd in all of this?
I learned that the bullies can win, with their lies and smear campaigns. I learned that the structure put in place by well-meaning and intelligent individuals to bring justice can be manipulated and used as a weapon. I learned that sometimes the truth is not believed while lies, gossip and posturing make the headlines.
Where is the Good Shepherd in all of this?
I once sat with a cancer patient who reasoned that all her troubles happened during the split second that God blinked. The idea that our Good Shepherd actually saw all these terrible things about to happen and did nothing to stop them was too much for her, so instead, she reasoned that God must sometimes blink and in that split second anything can happen.
Well, I know the Good Shepherd. I am convinced of God’s existence, I have experienced too much to deny God does exist and I know that there is a life beyond this life. As a Chaplain, a minister and just a fellow sojourner on this earth I have seen, felt and experienced enough to know with certainty there is more then we can imagine.
So, how does one reconcile the knowledge of the existence of the Good Shepherd with the occurrence of horribly cruel and destructive events?
For me it melts down to what is written in Isaiah 55:8-9,
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
Can a sheep ever possibly understand the ways of the Shepherd? No.
Can we ever possibly understand the ways of God? No.
That is why knowing the Shepherd makes all the difference. To trust in God’s plan, to lean into God presence, to give all the pain, all the hurt, all the misunderstandings, all the times we cannot defend ourselves back to God and instead live in a childlike dependency, an innocent trust is, in my opinion, the only way we can travel this life without despair. It is the only way we can be a kind, loving, and wise presence. It is counter cultural to say, “Despite all the evidence, I trust in the Good Shepherd.” This kind of faith and trust is a radical and life altering way to spend our days.
It is the only way, I have found to inner peace and ironically, with this faith I have found a part of me open up to experience God every day in small almost unnoticeable ways. But before I could experience this presence I first had to give into trusting this Good Shepherd when trusting was the least logical thing to do.
May the tests and trials of this life deepen your faith and bring you closer to the un-explainable love of the Good Shepherd.
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!
Summer 2021 is half over! Sure, we could soothe ourselves by saying summer is until September 21st, but we all know the truth: Labour Day Weekend is the end of summer.
Walmart is filling the shelves with notebooks, binders and markers. Both teachers and parents are listening closely to hear the Ford government’s back to school plan, while pumpkin spice candles and autumn wreaths are beginning to fill the Dollar Stores.
If only we could slow down time long enough to linger among the summer flowers, to enjoy the early morning birdsong, or even spend the evening star gazing. Is there enough time left for one more campfire, one more bike ride and one more day at the beach?
We tend to fill our days with “to do lists” and commitments of all kinds. We rush about until, before we know it, an entire month has passed. And before we catch up with ourselves, an entire season is left behind.
Life wasn’t meant to be lived this way.
Rev. Dr. John O’Donough was a Catholic Priest, writer and poet who, having met the love of his life, left the priesthood 21 years after his ordination. Sadly, 8 years later, two days after his 52nd birthday and two months after the publication of his final work Benedictus: A Book of Blessings, O’Donohue died suddenly in his sleep on January 4th, 2008.
He left behind beautiful writings that draw us nearer to the presence of God and offer a profound awareness of the Holy surrounding us each. He writes that each day is a holy place. Today I would like to share part of this writing with hopes it will enhance your daily journey and encourage you to slow down and savor each day that you have been given.
We seldom notice how each day is a holy place
Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,
Transforming our broken fragments
Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.
Somewhere in us a dignity presides
That is more gracious than the smallness
That fuels us with fear and force,
A dignity that trusts the form a day takes.
So at the end of this day, we give thanks
For being betrothed to the unknown
And for the secret work
Through which the mind of the day
And wisdom of the soul become one.
(Excerpt from the blessing, ‘The Inner History of a Day,’ found in the book: To Bless the Space Between Us)
About two weeks back I received a phone call from a friend I hadn’t spoken to in ages. At first the conversation was wonderful, she filled me in on how she was doing, what was new in her life and then she began to share what was happening with some of our friends. She seemed to have the scoop on everyone and as I listened I began to feel a bit uncomfortable with the conversation.
Upon reflection I realized my guilt; listening to gossip is as bad as being the one sharing the gossip. I have taken all three roles; I have been the one gossiping, the one listening and certainly the one being gossiped about.
Why do we gossip? We know it is wrong, we know it makes us look small, we know often the truth of others is not shared and yet, we do it in all kinds of ways.
I suspect this pandemic has increased our bad habit of gossiping. To be the one gossiping means we are the one who possesses some juicy information. This feeds our ego and makes us appear important and for a few minutes we hold a position of superiority and attention getting. We savor this kind of attention. As social beings we want to be the “top dog”, the one everyone looks to for information. Given all the isolation of the last 16 months it isn’t surprising that some are filling their need for attention by gossiping even if it is at the expense of the truth.
Also, gossip can be used to create social alliances. Have you ever noticed that those who gossip tend to hang out together? The unspoken norm is you can be part of our “group” if you believe and agree with what we say and greater status is given to those who are good at spreading the gossip or those who bring the group new gossip. Those who choose not to gossip or who question the validity of the information tend not to be accepted by the group, or even worse, become the target of the gossipers.
The saying is true, “Gossip ends at a wise person’s ear.” Those who possess certain wisdom are not usually the ones caught in spreading, listening to or entertaining any form of gossip.
It is my hope we can emerge from this pandemic a wiser, kinder and better version of our pre-pandemic selves. Let’s make the commitment to be honest in our conversations and careful in our care of each other.
My hairdresser has quit! I assumed the many weeks of being closed was the cause of a career change but was surprised when she shared that she simply could no longer take the abuse of customers. She said it had become a daily occurrence to have folks arrive to the salon refusing to wear a mask, refusing to book appointments or refusing to follow the COVID-19 protocols of the salon. And some of those who were able to follow these simple instructions would sit in her salon chair complaining nonstop about everything.
“Each morning I dreaded coming in and by my lunch break I felt like a weight was on my shoulders.” So, she took a full time job in a completely different field and no longer deals with the public.
She is not alone. It would seem many are fed up with rude and toxic interactions. I noticed last week a new sign was taped up at the McDonald’s drive thru. It reads, “We believe in fostering gracious behavior in our restaurants and creating a pleasant environment for both our guests and staff. Please treat our staff with respect and dignity. McDonald’s reserves the right not to serve abusive customers”
A similar sign went up at a couple of grocery stores in town and the Dollar Stores.
Let’s tread lightly. It has been a long pandemic for everyone. Yelling at the drive thru waitress or the grocery store clerk is not going to solve any of your problems. I guarantee you will actually feel worse and most definitely so will everyone who heard you. So, stop it.
Do yourself a favor and everyone around you, be kind if for no other reason than the kindness will come back to you! How you treat others is how life will treat you. As Mother Teresa said, “Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless.”
Choose kindness,
Rev. Heather McCarrel
Minister at Kemble-Sarawak, Zion-Keppel Pastoral Charge
Photo by Matt Collamer,used with permission/ Unsplash
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).
I had a friend die of COVID-19. It was an awful shock; I didn’t even know she had been sick. It all happened so quickly.
Death can be cruel; interrupting a busy and full life. It is as though she was taken from us mid-sentence.
Her absence has caused me to ponder some difficult questions, “How much of my life have I lived? Is it over 50% ? Or, maybe the meter is up to 80% already? Who can know for sure? What is the sum of my days?” And, “Have I lived a life that reflects what I value most? Or, have I allowed worldly worries to consume me?”
These are tough questions to sit with all alone so I shared them with a few friends and family members.
One friend responded that he valued honesty but then quickly amended his answer with a slight grin admitting, “Well, I value others being honest with me but I know I am not always honest with others. So, I guess my life does not reflect my values.”
Now, to be fair this friend, who is in his mid-40s, 2 years ago did something pretty remarkable. He left a high paying position of prestige and power and took a de-promotion because he was tired of being under so much stress. He noticed he hardly ever laughed and decided that was much too high a price to pay. He shared that he actually doesn’t miss the extra income as much as he imagined and no one could pay him to go back to all that stress. “In fact,” he said, “I feel bad for those left behind in the rat race; they have no idea what price they are paying.”
Another friend answered that she values her family above all else but upon reflection confessed, “I value family but most of the time I spend with my kids my head is still at work. I am thinking about the next project or I am upset about whoever angered me at work that day. Rarely am I actually 100 % present with my family.” This realization hit her hard and she too made some changes.
What about you? What do you value? Are these values reflected in your life? What is the sum of your days?
As we slowly return to a post pandemic life it is time to evaluate what we want to pick up again and what can be left behind. This moment, right now, is ripe with the opportunity to decide the sum of our days. We should choose well, because who knows how much time is left?
Blessings,
Rev. Heather McCarrel
Photo by Sunbeam Photography used with permission/Unsplash
My daughter got married on Saturday! Despite the pandemic, severe thunderstorm warnings and the touch down of a tornado, it was a day of bewildering beauty.
It was exactly 9 years ago Saturday, June 26th, that my daughter and her new husband had their first date. Over a year ago, when they realized this date fell on a Saturday, they announced their intention to mark this most important anniversary with Holy Matrimony.
A wedding liturgy was created by the two of them full of prayers, blessing and gratitude to their Great Creator.
After much deliberation, the ceremony was set to occur at a covered picnic shelter perched on a pier surrounded by Georgian Bay. The morning of the big day we gathered and filled the picnic shelter with tiny white lights and loosely wrapped white netting to create a heavenly vibe. The green carpeting invited the green glow from outside in, while blue tables covered with white lace, topped with lit lanterns and flowers of many colours added a rich elegance. A white wicker table and matching chair placed with a pot of tall lavender added much to the already divine setting.
As the ceremony began, we stood inside the picnic shelter while an otherworldly mist hung over the water under a sky of swirling blue and grey tones. A small group gathered to witness this most special moment. Only 10 close family members were inside the picnic shelter and others had paddled over in either a kayak or a canoe, each minding the COVID rules of distancing! As the presiding minister, I purposely spoke loud enough so to be heard both on and off shore.
With the aid of a cell phone and several Bluetooth speakers, lovely music could be heard during both the ceremony and the time of celebration that followed! A local restaurant prepared a lovely meal, which was delivered in individual boxes for each guest, right down to the fresh berry-laden cheesecake.
Each photo is enhanced by the moody sky, misty air and the ever-changing bay waters. We did not have heavy rain nor were there strong winds; the Good Lord himself cupped his hands over and around the picnic shelter. We were greatly blessed.
As the day began to draw to a close and the picnic shelter filled with laughter and dancing, I marveled at this young couple and knew they have all it takes to travel the many twists and turns life will present. For, as it is written, “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, its learning to dance in the rain.”
Stain Glass Lens of the 21st Century 