Every year at Thanksgiving, whether there are only two around the table or twenty-two, each plate has 3 small kernels of un-popped colourful dried corn placed upon it. Before the meal is served we each take our place around the table and together share three things we are thankful for in the past year. Then we place the kernels in a glass bowl which is placed in the middle of the table. It is a thing of beauty to see the many different coloured kernels knowing each represents gratitude.
Tevye the Dairyman in the play Fiddler On the Roof sings a ‘tongue–in-cheek’ song about the importance of traditions and he concludes that without traditions life would be as shaky as a “fiddler on the roof.” I tend to agree with Tevye; traditions help to steady us in an otherwise unstable world.
It is important to me that my children witness traditions that tether them to faithful living and teach them to find hope in a difficult world. By demonstrating gratitude we are living what the Apostle Paul teaches, “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (Thessalonians 5:16-18)
This year, as my family gathers for Thanksgiving we do so with three less family members; it has been a difficult year. And yet, we will keep the Thanksgiving tradition of ‘Counting the Kernels of Gratitude’ because each small kernel reminds us of God’s presence, providence and promises. As Henri Nouwen writes, “Gratitude goes beyond the ‘mine’ and ‘thine’ and claims the truth that all of life is a pure gift.”
May everyone take time this Thanksgiving to pause and count enough blessings until you too are confident that life is pure gift!
There are angels among us; I know this to be true because I have seen them.
It wasn’t easy to make out their faces as they kept their identity well hidden behind protective glasses and face masks. Most of them had tucked their hair up in tight caps on their heads. These colourful caps had a large button sewn on each side and from what I could tell these buttons were used to hold up their glasses and face masks, a most ingenious design.
My mother had been taken by ambulance to the local hospital and was later admitted. She had been bravely battling cancer and due to some complications of her treatment was in need of some special care. Definitely the angels that surrounded her bed were offering a compassionate and dignified care.
One afternoon, as a couple of these angels were tending to my mother in her hospital room, I stood in the hallway with my back up against the wall. From this vantage point I witnessed as they swirled about pushing folks in wheel chairs, aiding others to walk steadily with their canes and in one case aiding a young man with his broken arm; they were in constant motion.
A few days later, after my mother had been moved to the local hospice I again witnessed the gentle yet strong energy of these otherworldly beings. They tended to my mother and in equal measure took time to care for our grieved and saddened souls. My dad, who was helplessly watching the love of his life fade away, was tended to by these angels in such a way it ministered to us all.
What I cannot understand is how can there be both atheists and angels among us? How can one witness the selfless care of nurses; their willingness to step fully into people’s pain, illness and messiness and not see the divinity of their presence? They step forward when most of us purposely run in the opposite direction. Only a great and loving God could create such beings as nurses; those both skilled and called to help others.
I cannot watch the care of a good nurse and not turn to God and say, “Thank you!”.
After my mother had taken her last breath and all the arrangements had been made one last nurse came to offer words of comfort and as she turned to leave the room I am almost 100% sure I heard the fluttering of wings.
There is a new addition to my backyard garden, a sculpture of sorts. It isn’t pretty, kind awkward if truth be told but it has a most important purpose.
It all started mid-summer when I was startled early one morning to discover a neighbor sitting rather comfortably in my backyard. To be exact she was sitting proudly by the bird feeders looking rather pleased with herself. Without hesitation I opened the back gate and made it clear she wasn’t welcome, “Be gone!” I yelled while waving my arms.
She just looked me up and down then returned to studying the bird feeders.
Again, I said, louder than the first time, “I said be gone!” and to make my point clearer I stepped closer and clapped my hands. Again, she simply ignored me. So, I picked up the hose and with one squirt made my presence hard to ignore.
She ran just far enough to be beyond the spray of water, she wasn’t going to leave easily. I then found myself chasing her down the side of the house spraying the hose wildly. Anyone looking on must have wondered what I had for breakfast that morning. In hindsight, I am now certain I heard some snickering as I rounded the house and found this neighbor back under the bird feeders. I knew this meant war!
Thing is, only a week earlier I had caught my next-door neighbor doing the exact same thing and giggled at how silly she looked. Now, I knew the nature of her yelling, running and waving of her arms.
Within a couple of days this unwelcomed neighbor returned several times. One deterrent I discovered was putting on the sprinkler; this pleased the birds and kept this unwelcomed neighbor at a distance, but my water bill was climbing.
One afternoon while weeding the flower bed under our front window this neighbor happened along, I stood up offering no words of welcome. As she walked past another neighbor crossed my lawn saying, “Her name is Buttons and she has been the terror of the neighborhood all summer.”
Terror doesn’t even come close to describe Buttons! A couple of days earlier, upon hearing yells, I looked out my front window and witnessed a woman with a rather large dog on a leash; both were being chased by Buttons down the street.
Jesus said we are to love our neighbors as ourselves but Buttons wasn’t making it easy!
So, a couple of days ago when I discovered Buttons back under my bird feeders, I knew something different was required. Now don’t get me wrong, I love cats, but Buttons is like no cat I had ever met.
Do you know that cats are the number one killers of songbirds? Well, not on my watch! This time I grabbed the hose and didn’t try to scare Buttons, but instead planned on giving her a thorough soaking.
As she darted away, I kept close pursuit and soaked her backside good. Then I devised a plan. Remembering an unused metal shepherd’s hook plant hanger in the shed, I knew what to do.
I put this shepherd’s hook in the ground positioned strategically between all the bird feeders, which happens to be about the middle of the yard and hung the hose sprayer on it. Even with the hose off, just the sight of that sprayer is enough to keep Buttons away. I watched as she rounded the garage, spied the sprayer, sized up the situation and decided to turn tail.
It would seem Buttons and I have come to an understanding.
So, standing up in my back yard is a large metal shepherd’s hook with the garden hose and sprayer poised for battle. It looks rather ridiculous but as Lord Polonius said in Hamlet, “There is method in my madness!”
Later, as my husband came through the back door from work, he just looked at me, shook his head and said, “I am not even going to ask.”
The Season of Creation has arrived! Do you know what the Season of Creation is? Just as there is the Lenten Season and the Season of Advent there is within many denominations a Season of Creation. For some denominations this Season runs from September 1st to October 4th while for others, such as the United Church of Canada it is called “Creation Time” and runs from September 12th to Thanksgiving Sunday, October 10th, 2021.
Although we may differ in the exact dates of this liturgical season we all agree on its focus; our God-given role as care takers of God’s wondrous and amazing creation. We are called to awareness, prayer and action to strengthen our response to God’s presence and glory in all creation.
And what an introduction to Creation Time we have had this past week in Grey-Bruce! Late on Tuesday afternoon darkness overtook the usual commute home which was followed by large hail stones, wicked winds and a torrential rainfall. Trees were toppled, roofs torn off, fences and sheds scattered about as if they were simply children’s toys, and hydro wires downed that would take days to repair. And, just as the Creation Story begins in the Bible, there seemed to be chaos everywhere.
This sense of chaos can leave us bewildered, exhausted and lost but that is not the end of the story; it is only the beginning! Some have asked, “Where was God in this storm?”
God was right where God always can be found, with us in healing and helpful ways.
Before this storm hit we were warned. My cell phone sounded an alarm at 4:50 p.m and again several minutes later telling me to take cover and stay still until the storm had passed. God has gifted us with those who have the knowledge of such meteorological events and the means to communicate warnings to us all. With thanks to God for such gifts no one died during this storm.
God’s presence was witnessed in those who jumped into action and began to ensure everyone’s safety. The first responders such as the police, emergency crews and the hydro workers who immediately began to fix the downed wires; the following two days the sounds of chain saws and tree shredders echoed throughout Saugeen Shores.
One way God brings order out of chaos is by using us. God created us to be the care takers of creation which includes each other. We are called to aid others, those with the knowledge provide warnings, those with means provides the funds, those who can swing a hammer help to rebuild, each of us gifted in one way or another to aid our brothers and sisters through their chaotic times.
May we all look around and see clearly the presence of our Great Creator even in the storms and seeming chaos.
At first I didn’t notice the cause, only the effect. As I carefully folded each sheet from the clothesline, birds dove around me, dancing overhead. One little nuthatch stopped mid-air, made a 180-degree turn, then darted back into the treetops. There were robins, at least 3 blue jays, a couple of orioles, a cardinal, about half a dozen chickadees and a handful of nuthatches displaying a choreographed routine.
After all the laundry was folded, I sat down in a lawn chair enthralled by the show. It was remarkable! More than once a Blue Jay dove so close I could have reached out and touched him. And the best part: when the orioles joined the dance! Their orange plumage added much to the display.
I silently tip toed inside to get my son who, upon arrival, immediately assessed what was happening. A nest of flying ants must have hatched in the soil under our patio stones and were marching in a straight line across the stones, through the lattice and up to the top of the fence post, which is positioned directly under the clothesline. By bringing in the laundry I had startled them into flight, triggering the neighborhood birds into a feeding frenzy.
We sat back and watched with fascination as the seemingly thousands of flying ants marched up the post and took flight, only to be nabbed inches away. However, we soon realized that some were making it high into the great blue yonder because several sea gulls began to dip, dive and turn above the tree tops.
Later we reflected on the plight of the flying ants, having barely hatched and already were someone’s evening snack. However, I must admit, the blackened top of my fence post thick with flying ants disgusted me. I fought the urge to get the hose and wash them away! Thankfully nature once again amazed me with its balancing act.
My boring evening of house work and laundry turned into something exciting; life is such an adventure! One moment I was mindlessly folding laundry, and the next looking up in awe at God’s creation. As the Psalmists declare, “How many are your works, LORD! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.” (Psalm 104:24)
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.
Stain Glass Lens of the 21st Century 