Stain Glass Lens of the 21st Century

Tag: Uncategorized

  • June’s Arrival

    June’s Arrival

    The arrival of June was announced several days prior to June 1st.   Perhaps it was the excitement of this most happiest of  months that spurred the flowers to celebrate a few days earlier or maybe they just could not hold off any longer.

    The unmistakable fragrance of June seeped into the bedding drying on the clothsline and found its way into the mudroom perfuming our garden gloves and hanging raincoats.  It is a powerful elixir, causing one to stop dead in their tracks, distracted by its unexpected beauty wiping clear any former intentions.

    I stood transfixed in the driveway, forgetting why I had even ventured out.  It was as though a fog overtook me, a mix of Lilly of the Valley, Lilac, Crabapple blossoms, and Hyacinth aromas, combined to such a heavenly scent I stood, eyes shut,  smelling the air like a drunken fool. As British author, Beverley Nicols, writes, “To be overcome by the fragrance of flowers is a delectable form of defeat.” 

    May we all be defeated by this most rewarding fragrance, rendering us useless with its calming and satisfying effects and may we all pause to bask in all that June has to offer.

    Happy June Everyone,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by Tina Sara/Unsplash

  • Hiking For Hospice

    Hiking For Hospice

    It was late one cool September Saturday when my mother arrived to Hospice. She had one of those illnesses that crept through her body almost undetected until it was too late.  Once discovered there was a swiftness to her decline.  We had done all we could for her at home; rented the hospital bed, gathered in all the necessary equipment, shopped for the foods she could eat and where we could do no more there were these angelic nurses who arrived to do the rest of her care. She was a polite patient but not necessarily co-operative. By nature my mother was a very private and defiantly independent woman which, in the past, had bode well for her.   

    I recall my father, two brothers and I sat in silence while the Hospice staff settled her in. This was a silence of relief as we each began to relax from the weeks of emotional heavy lifting.  No longer were we the ones having to remind her to take her meds, rest, or use her walker.  Now, we could start to face our own grief and to be a gentler presence; a profound gift indeed.

    It wasn’t the first time I had been to the hospice. As a minister I had sat by the beds visiting both parishioners and their loved ones.  I had firsthand experience of the kindness and dedication of the hospice staff.

    So impressed have I been with the gentle but strong presence of this hospice that I am now counted among their staff.  It is with humble gratitude that I walk the halls as a Spiritual Care Provider, aka, a Chaplain.  I witness the dedication of all the staff from the remarkable clinical staff, compassionate kitchen staff,  friendly cleaning/enviromental services staff,  well trained and warm hearted volunteers to the busy Management Team.  It takes an army to run a hospice and lots of Chapman ice cream!

    It also takes a community to run a hospice.  That is why I will be at Harrison Park on Saturday May 27th from 11:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. for the wrap up hike and BBQ as we rally around Grey-Bruce Hospice Inc, known to us all as Chapman House. This will be the first in-person Hike for Hospice in two years.  A day of fundraising and gathering, it isn’t too late if you too would like to join us. Please go to https://www.greybrucehospice.com/ for details.

    Hike-Bike-Ride-Paddle-Skip-Play all in the name of Hospice! I hope to see you there,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by Photo nic chiro/Unsplash

  • The Long Weekend

    The Long Weekend

    Finally, the May long weekend has arrived!  Three days of rest, relaxation and time spent with family and friends.

    We deserve a few days of spring celebration after what has been dubbed, “The darkest winter in 80 years” by the United States National Weather Services.  In fact, Southern Ontario saw the least amount of sunshine than just about anywhere else in all of North America.

    Couple this with the chilly north wind which outstayed its welcome this past spring and we all are due for a few days of warmth and sunshine.

    Friday began calm with a warm breeze and a hint of sunshine.  By noon folks appeared with rakes, hoes, and flats of bedding plants eager to get started on beautifying their yards.  It was a productive day with happiness not witnessed in months. 

    Then, as if on cue, just as the workday was ending a dark ominous cloud slowly made its way over the Bay and by early evening the rainfall had begun.

    We sat listening to its steady drumming commenting on the beauty of its rhythm; grateful that the dry lawns and gardens were receiving warm sustenance.

    Two hours later this rain seemed less romantic and by bedtime we knew the long weekend was a bust.   The weather forecast shared news of rain and lots of it for the next 24 hours. 

    However, it is the early dawn as I write, and the view is remarkable. A soft mist has settled in some low-lying spots and the hours of warm rain encouraged the maple leaves, stunted by the cold north wind, to fully realize their growth.  There is vibrancy all around.

    The maple trees have filled in making it difficult to see through to the other side and a green carpet stretches across the yard dotted with happy dandelions.  The crabapple trees are in full bloom adding a celebratory brightness while the pastel shades of magnolia blossoms deepen the beauty.  Perhaps this won’t be the long weekend we had hoped for, but it may just be the long weekend we need.

    Whatever the weather in your part of the world, may this be a blessed time of growth, greening and renewal.  

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by Mateusz Stepien/Unsplash

  • Tiny Trilliums

    Tiny Trilliums

    These past few days the trilliums have begun to take over the hillsides and sunny patches along the forest floor and beside the park trails.  These beauties are the cause of bottlenecks as folks stop to snap photos or simply to enjoy their elegance.  There is one notable difference in the trilliums this year, at least where I live, although perfect in every way they are much smaller then usual.

    Curious about these miniature trilliums I did some reading on the topic and learned that the cooler winds and near freezing evening temperatures are causing a stunted growth in many spring flowers this year.  This certainly would be true in my own backyard as the north wind blows off Georgian Bay causing myself and my neighbors to don wool sweaters while out in our gardens.

    As I stood in the late afternoon sun admiring the loveliness of a hillside covered in trilliums a certain respect for their tenacity began to take hold. Despite the cold winds, duller days and near freezing rainfall these little gems doggedly took root, fought to grow as tall as possible and proudly display their best efforts at blooming.  Could God be speaking to us all through these little flowers?  Is it possible that the great Creator notices the courage and determination found in a simple wildflower?

    Medieval Catholic theologian Thomas Aquinas asserted that God is not just a being but Being itself, “present everywhere in everything,” not just confined to a supernatural heaven above but existing even in nature. If Aquinas is to be believed, then it is possible God not only notices these tiny trilliums but is cheering them on!

    Perhaps, they are the teachers, and we are the students; learning how to withstand the chilly winds of life. The lesson being: no matter what chilly breeze is blowing through our lives right now, we are to be like the trilliums and take root, stand tall and dare to show our beauty for all.  We may not always be at our best, but perhaps just the effort to grow and be present is enough.  The trilliums teach that we cannot let the chilly winds stop us from blooming exactly where we are planted.

    It is a marvelous thing to belong to a God so great that even small wildflowers are used to point us in the direction of a meaningful life. May we all be wise enough to pay attention!

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by David M. Chambers/Unsplash

  • Lonesome Friendship

    Lonesome Friendship

    He arrives daily, usually just around supper time and makes his presence known by singing a low sad melody.  Dutifully I stop whatever I am doing and lay out fresh food with hopes he may stay awhile.

    His lonesome presence has become a part of my daily routine as I deliberately pay him attention; wanting him to know he is noticed, valued and precious in someone’s eyes. 

    His official name is Zenaida Macroura, many know him as a Mourning Dove; I have named him Bedad Kissimi (B.K. for short).  Bedad is an Old Testament name meaning, “alone or set aside” and once while visiting I was able to point Bedad out to a friend who shared that the name Kissimmi  is an Indigenous name that means ‘alone.’ So, this is how Bedad Kissimi came to be named.

    It isn’t clear why B.K. is all alone.  Presumably his mate has died but perhaps she tossed him out of the nest for spending too many late nights with his buddies or for leaving his dirty socks under the bed. It doesn’t matter; I am tired of the world’s judgements on others.  He has bravely made his aloneness known and I choose to respond with kindness, friendship and fresh birdseed. 

    His friendship has come to mean much to me, having him trust me is truly a privilege. At first he would stay in the tree top until after I had placed the seed and returned inside.  Now, he stays only an arm’s length away, we make eye contact most days as he tilts his head in gratitude.   

    In fact, I have wondered who is helping who.  I simply drop seed on the deck floor while he engages the strings of my heart! 

    As Charles Chaplin said, “He who feeds a hungry animal, feeds his own soul.”

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo from Aaron J. Hill/Pexels

  • Shepherding Sunday

    Shepherding Sunday

    For many Christians this is the week of the annual Shepherding Sunday service.  This is a service when the scripture passages of Jesus calling us his sheep are read alongside the widely loved 23rd Psalm.

    Jesus begins by describing not a good Shepherd but imposters who try to get into the sheepfold acting like a Shepherd but ultimately not caring one ounce about the sheep (John 10:1).  This is a warning that not all humanity is kind, generous or deserving of our trust.  Jesus does offer a list of the characteristics of an authentic Shepherd which include knowing each sheep by name, going ahead of the sheep and sacrificing himself for his sheep.    

    Thing is, once you have met this Good Shepherd it makes all the difference.  When he calls to your heart, you know it and when you begin to hear the melody of his love it becomes the tune that shapes your days.  As author Barb Roose writes, “For me, I find comfort in knowing that beyond what I see in humanity, Jesus is the Good Shepherd who has never let me down.”

    No matter what happens in life, nothing can take us away from our Shepherd; not betrayal, depression, job loss, debt or even death.  Once we become a part of His flock we will never be lost to Him.  We will never be beyond His gaze or His love. 

    And, this is exactly what David was writing about when he wrote the 23rd Psalm.  He had become so acquainted with God while he was a Shepherd that the image of God’s care stayed with David throughout a tumultuous life.  David knew that this Shepherd would never leave him but instead guide him through the valley of the shadow of death, along green pastures, beside still waters and into an eternal dwelling.  David knew, “Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the day of my life…”.

    May we all take time this week to listen deeply for the call of our Shepherd,

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel    

    Photo by Biegun Wschodni/Unsplash

  • When The Cold Returns

    When The Cold Returns

    After having days of sunshine, warm spring temperatures and budding flowers winter has returned.  In a matter of one day we went from sundresses and shorts back to mittens and wooly toques.

    We could be discouraged by this return of cold gray days or we could be grateful for the week of warmth we enjoyed.  Often life brings us to moments of choice, moments when we stand at the cross roads of doubt or faith, hope or despair, gratitude or regret.  How we respond determines a lot on our situation.  There are times of despair and regret just as there are times of hope and gratitude.  How long we linger in each is entirely up to us.

    At first I was grumbling as I dug out warm socks and a sweater but realized these grumblings only left me feeling sad and discourage.  So, I decided to try a different outlook. I silently offered a prayer of gratitude for the morning spent sitting under the empty maple tree watching the birds, the first BBQ supper of the year and the evening when we reclined on the back deck admiring the stars.  What wonderful memories to warm these chillier days.

    Besides, we know these chilly days are numbered.  These are the days we enjoy our last bowl of chili or beef stew until autumn, the days that afford us time to switch out our winter clothes with the summer fair.  Each moment holds so much to cherish.  As Matt Haig writes, “We just have to close our eyes and savor the taste of the drink in front of us and listen to the song as it plays.” (Midnight Library).

    May you find reason to rejoice on these last dull days of the northern breeze trusting that warmer days are just around the corner.

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel  

    Photo by Jack Blueberry/Unsplash

  • Messy Resurrection

    Messy Resurrection

    It is amazing how much can change in only a few days. 

    Our backyard transformed from a white oasis of untouched snow into a quagmire of brown water and a thick mucky mess.  For the next week we tried everything from car washing gloves picked up at the Dollar Store to a ‘Paw Washing Cup’ purchased at the pet shop. But no matter what we did muddy paw prints were continually trailed throughout the house.  Finally, out of complete frustration we took a few tall garden stakes along with some snow fencing and circled off the muddy part of the backyard. 

    What happened next was completely unexpected.

    We didn’t notice the transformation until Holy Week and one afternoon I wandered out behind the garage to discover the muddy patch had transformed completely.  What had been the cause of much frustration now had blossomed into a cornucopia of bobbing spring jubilation; a carpet of crocuses now covered the muddy spot.

    I stood there completely stunned.  We had never planted crocuses in this muddy patch and yet, there they stood defying the cold north wind, the deep muck and the complete obscurity of the space.  How very Easter of them!

    In church we tell ourselves we are an Easter people, quoting St. Augustine who preached,   “We are an Easter people and Alleluia is our hymn of praise!”

    As those who follow Jesus not only into the Palm Parade but also through the painful mucky mess of an unthinkable crucifixion, followed by days of darkness and then back out into the light of resurrection, we are a people who live Easter lives.   

    As those who believe in the resurrection of Jesus Christ we are the ones called to bring new life in areas that seem lifeless; feeding the hungry, visiting the lonely and lifting up the fallen and we do it to the glory of a Creator God, who can turn muck into life.

    We are the blooming crocuses in the muddy patches of life!

    Happy Easter,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

  • The Waiting Place

    The Waiting Place

    These late days of lent and early days of spring are known as the ‘in-between’ days or as Dr. Seuss dubbed them the “Waiting Place”.  This is a place in between what was and what will be.

    We are in the days when the calendar tells us spring has officially arrived and yet we wait for true spring weather; warm days filled with birdsong and blooming tulips.

      These are days after the snow shovels have been placed back in the garage but before we can get out the garden spades or lawn rakes, days of restlessly waiting. 

    We also are in the days of the Lenten journey; days of waiting to sing our hallelujahs.  

    We tend to busy ourselves in this ‘waiting place’ with mindless tasks. We call it spring cleaning when we empty all the kitchen cupboards and wipe them down, or we go through all the winter mittens, scarves and hats sorting them into piles.  These are unnecessary tasks invented to keep us busy during these waiting days.

    Instead we should simply pause and allow ourselves to be quiet before God.  This “waiting place” is ripe in opportunity to hush the constant racket and still our ever restless ambition long enough to sense the Divine presence in the air around us. 

    This is a time to put down the phone, turn off the TV or close the laptop. 

    Perhaps God has created this “Waiting Place” as an invitation to sit in awareness of God’s peace, healing and love.  I suspect this divine prompting is for our own good, a time to slow our pace and clear our spiritual vision; a practice that sharpens our ability to witness the divine dance that happens around us daily.

    May we all hold space this Holy Week to be quiet before God and may this be a time of deep renewal.

    Blessings,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel

    Photo by Serkan Goktay/Pexels

  • Spring Has Stepped Outside The Door!

    Spring Has Stepped Outside The Door!

    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.   

    Happy Spring Everyone,

    Rev. Heather McCarrel