Spring has stepped outside the door! And, in spite of the persistent north wind and accumulating snow it dances defiantly to the rhythm of birdsong, celebrating the lengthening of daylight while leaving crocuses and snowdrops in its wake.
Signs of spring’s frolicking can be seen everywhere: Canadian Geese loudly announcing their return, Robins and Red Winged Black Birds bringing splashes of red to the dull tree tops and pussy willows courageously standing tall in the cold breezes.
Spring is the most optimistic season of the year. It heralds warmer days, bright sunshine and fields of colourful wildflowers during the fickle days of March. As columnist, Doug Larson writes, “Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.”
May everyone whistle a happy tune confident of spring’s stubborn tenacity.
It was two years ago this month that I finally figured out exactly what I wanted. It wasn’t an easy decision, I had traveled down some tricky roads, tossed and turned through sleepless nights and after intellectually weighing all the pros and cons I decided against logic and followed my heart.
I stepped out of all the busyness of life and took a rest. It had been over 30 years since I had such a rest. Not just a 2 week holiday but an indefinite hiatus from the world with no plans. It reminded me of the time just after graduating University; a time of excited uncertainty. I had no doubts that whatever lied ahead would be amazing and I was right.
In the Gospel of John we read of two disciples who began to literally follow Jesus down the road. Turning around, Jesus saw them and asked, “What do you want?” They wanted to be closer to him and had stopped everything in their lives to do so. He invited them to, “Come and see.” I felt as though I was one of those disciples and excitedly followed.
What an adventure it has been! My prayer life has improved immensely and with certainty I have heard back from God in the song of the birds, the sway of the trees and in the silence of a full moon. Miraculously opportunities came my way and I now find myself serving God as a Hospice Chaplain and a Country Preacher, both roles bringing me deep purpose and a sustaining peace.
As author Hiral Nagda writes, “Sometimes doing nothing makes way for everything.”
There sure is a lot to worry about these days. The threat of nuclear war, increasing COVID cases, rising costs to just about everything and too many environmental disasters to count.
How do we find peace of mind at a time like this? Rev. Darlow Sargeant writes, “To be perfectly at peace amid the hurly-burly of daily life is a secret worth knowing. What is the use of worrying? It never made anybody strong; never helped anybody to do God’s will; never made a way of escape for anyone out of perplexity. Worry spoils lives which would otherwise be useful and beautiful.”
It would seem Jesus agrees, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?” (Matthew 6:25)
As the stoics teach, it is never wise to worry over things we cannot control.
What we can control is how we live our daily lives in our own little worlds. Why not trust in God’s presence and God’s call to serve others? We have the power to help those around us. As Mother Teresa wisely said, “I can’t help thousands. I can help only the one who stands before me.”
Why not spend our days counting our blessing and offering back to God our praise and gratitude? If we are doomed anyway, why not spend our days doing and thinking that which adds beauty and comfort? Perhaps as we do so we will draw closer to the presence of God, and as Rev. Sargeant writes, “Scale the heights of a life abandoned to God, then you will look down on the clouds beneath your feet as you rise above all the worries.”
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.
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.
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)
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 