(Ir)Reverend Ramblings

Like many other Canadians I spent some of my long weekend time getting down and dirty. By that I mean down on my knees and digging in the garden working the dirt, adding some dirt, moving some dirt. Really at this time of year it is all about the dirt!

Over the thirty years of my marriage my beloved was the chief gardener. He enjoyed it very much and I was content to leave it to him as I directed my attention to other things. But as his health declined I inherited more and more of the yard work. I have always enjoyed gardening but I was equally happy for it to be his area of of shared living. Since his death, this has become both a responsibility and a new preoccupation for me.

Gardening is a way to connect with nature but even more a way to appreciate the Creator. William Wilberforce said, “Lovely flowers are the smiles of God’s goodness.” and over the weekend as I rooted out weeds, lots and lots of weeds, I did question why God’s goodness seems so much more prolific with weeds than flowers! (I also wondered about the wisdom of black flies but I am sure God had a plan in that little annoying insect!!!!).

Jesus grew up and lived in his life in a rural, agrarian society. His occasional trips to Jerusalem were his urban experience. Nazareth was a small town. Galilee was farm country. Galilee is still the rich, productive farming area of Israel filled fruit groves, olive gardens and vineyards. It is no surprise that many of Jesus’ stories and metaphors focus on things of the earth. Grain fields, fig trees, mustard seeds are all part of his library of illustrations to tell of God’s love, compassion and abounding grace. So, when I am digging in the dirt it takes me to that place of deep connection with God known through the richness of the natural world.

Gardening also unleashes in me something that I am not good it in any other medium – being artistic! Elizabeth Murray wrote, “Gardening is the art that uses flowers and plants as the paint, and the soil and the sky as the canvas – working with nature provides the technique.” I like that thought. Moving this day lily over there and transplanting that fall mum to this part of the garden is my working with the canvas of God’s prodigality.

I know that gardening is not everyone’s thing but we all can look out our window and see around us the bursting of creation as spring unfolds. In these uncertain days it is good to have the certainty of the turning of the season and the unleashing of God’s smile on the earth. Happy digging!

Onomatopoeia is the formation of a word from a sound associated with what is named. In other words, an onomatopoeia looks like the sound it makes and we can almost hear those sounds as we read the word, for example, slam, gurgle, mumble, or splash are good examples.

Today I am thinking of longing. Longing is not an onomatopoeia in the strict sense of the word, but it is close in my books. To say I long for something instills in my soul that yawning feel of desire. These days of isolation have left me longing for the companionship of my beloved. So much alone time stirs up an emptiness in my heart, and even though he has been dead for over two years, 30 months to be exact, I still feel his presence in every room of the house. I miss him constantly and these days of being alone have left me longing for his presence.

I also long for levity and mirth. I would like to laugh until tears roll down my cheeks. There is not much to laugh about these days and I am missing that unbridled hilarity that comes in times with family and friends.

I am longing for beauty. I go outside everyday and look at my hyacinths because they are so gorgeous with their rich colours of mauve and purple and pink. Their intoxicating fragrance fills the air around them. The greening of grass dazzles my sight and I long for more colour, more fragrance, more beauty.

I long for gathering. During this time of isolation a friend has died. I wept without reserve because I had not seen her one last time. I long for the opportunity to be with her family, with our friends, to remember and mourn together and to say words of gratitude for all she meant to me.

I long to sing with others. All the youtube videos of people singing from their homes are a great balm but it is not the same as singing together with others. There is nothing like the collection of many voices making harmony together. I long to be back with the congregation singing one of the great hymns of the faith.

I long to eat out in a bustling busy restaurant. Having a delicious plate of food laid before me. I long for spirited conversation at that table as we enjoy a meal someone else cooked while greeting acquaintances at a neighbouring table.

And believe it or not, I long to wake up in the morning and have somewhere to go with a full agenda of things that need to be tended to, to know what day of the week it is by the activity scheduled.

This season of ‘sheltering in’ will come to pass eventually and then, no doubt, I will complain about being too busy and not having enough time, but for now I sit with this time to reflect on what I have, what I have known and what I long for.

What are you longing for these days?

I have had several conversations this week, on Zoom and, the old fashioned way, on the telephone. It is almost inevitable that at some point the conversation turns to, “When this is all over…”. Of course, no one knows when that will be, but already many are considering what impact this time of ‘sheltering in’ will have on how we proceed in social gatherings, church services, public activities, and even family events. Will we continue to shake hands as a greeting? In church, will we pass the offering plate? Will we be uncomfortable sitting right beside someone at the theatre? What will travel look like? I think it is generally agreed that when we return to what will be our ‘new normal’ it will take some time to get over this period of separation and isolation. I am not sure we will emerge from this time without some long term impact.

These days we can wear our pyjamas all day and we don’t even have to comb our hair because we know no one is going to come to our door. We don’t have to make those return dinner invitations. There is no need to attend those … weddings … parties …. social events that make us roll our eyes.We don’t have to engage in long conversations at the grocery store. We don’t have to hug people, especially those that make us feel uncomfortable. For some people this is a huge relief. For others it is the most difficult part of this at home life.

These weeks with little social contact have given people hours of times for self-reflection. For some this has allowed for personal insight and revelation. For others, it is has triggered grief, anxiety and depression. I have given some thought to the way anxiety rises in us. Some people have commented that they are anxious because they are feeling locked in and cut off. Others have said that they now feel anxiety when they go out, having been enveloped in their home, it has become a place of safety and security. Now, leaving home makes them anxious. Some have talked about family dynamics and how the stress of being together all the time has made for challenging times. Some have talked about moments of frustration and being close to tears for no reason while others have confessed to ranting at the least provocation. The range of emotions that people are experiencing means that when we come out the other side of this we will be different people. It will require some time for us to process.

I think the most important and therapeutic thing we can do right now is just hang in with what we are feeling, when we are feeling it. While it is tempting to think into the future and what will happen when this is all over, the truth is, we don’t know, and we won’t know, the future until it happens. The best thing we can do for our self is to work through our anxiety, doing what we need to do, being gentle with our self, and let the future unroll as it will – no predictions, just trust and faith that, as Julian of Norwich said, “All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.”

It’s Thursday. It seems each day I have to try and figure out what day of the week it is. With isolation, and one day bleeding into another, and no points of reference, I never know what day of the week it is. So, I check my Iphone, my wall calendar, my date book to figure out where in the week we are. Today is Thursday. It used to be that Thursday meant the last possible day to make changes to the bulletin so it could be printed on Friday morning and folded Friday afternoon. Thursday meant the last scurry to gather up any announcements that needed to be inserted. The second and fourth Thursday of each month meant prepping for Women’s Morning Out, our biweekly Bible study group. And, of course, Thursday night was choir practice. That was then. This is now. I look at the calendar and cross off another day. Today is Thursday.

And it is April, which means we get every season of the year in as many days. So far this week we have had sun, wind, rain, and snow. Today the sky is a brilliant blue, the sun is bright and warm. Those two realities lured me outside for a stroll around my yard to check out the gardens and see what is happening there. The lilies are pushing up and the poppies are showing their green. But that is not all that impressed me this morning. It was the sounds. Well, really, it was the lack of noise and the presence of sounds. I think there is a difference.

I am one of those people who grew up with noise. I studied with the radio on. I still do most of my work with some background noise – radio, music, even television if there is something worth keeping an eye on. My beloved used to chide me that when I walked into a room I would turn on the radio before I would turn on the light. It was an exaggeration but only a slight one!

During this time of constant isolation and no face to face conversations I have become aware of noise, sounds and silence. When I stepped out this morning, into this bright sunshiny April morning, I listened. There is not much traffic noise where I live only an occasional car. I could hear a truck somewhere in the distance. I heard some birdsong and the chatter of a red squirrel. I could hear the crunch of shoes on gravel and turned to wave to my neighbour out walking his dog. I heard a door slam from somewhere down the street. But mostly I heard the sounds of silence.

The Sounds of Silence is a song, written by Paul Simon in 1964. In it he speaks of the lack of true deep communication between people. I wonder about the impact of this isolation time in regard to many things. Mostly I wonder how it will effect our gathering times when we are allowed to safely gather again. Will we listen differently or will we slip back into the same old routine? Will we hear sounds differently when the din of activity, traffic, construction, planes flying over has returned?

The Gospels mention throughout the telling of Jesus’ life that he would often go to a quiet place to pray. Even Jesus needed to escape the noise and people to have a time of silence. When I was a kid, when you entered the church on Sunday mornings you did not talk. Everyone sat quietly and prayed. That was how I first learned of prayer. Watching my mom and dad bow their heads and close their eyes as they waited for the service to begin, lost in the silence of meditation. We have drifted from that practice to the pre-service time being a time of gathering and conversation. I don’t think this is a bad thing but I also think it is nice to be able to preserve the sound of silence.

I am writing this with the radio off, no tv, no cd playing all I can hear is the hum of the refrigerator. And, to my surprise … so far I am doing fine without background noise.

Blessings to you as to listen your way through Thursday.

“The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it;” Today is Earth Day, not only that, this is the 50th anniversary of Earth Day. 50 years of celebrating, recognizing, valuing, treasuring our Earth.

It has been said our perspective of the earth changed the first time we were able to see a photograph of it from space. That photograph shifted our understanding of what Earth looked like – a shimmering, blue marble suspended in space, with clouds drifting around it. It is hard to fathom, when looking at that photo, that I am standing here, a mere speck on the surface of that beautiful orb floating in the cosmos. The concept is, pardon the pun, otherworldly! And yet here I am and here you are and it is Earth Day.

I believe every faith, civilization and culture has a creation story as part of its library of origin. For those of us in the Judeo-Christian heritage, our sacred text begins with an accounting of creation. “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth …” Well known words, often intoned at services and sometimes even heard in movies and recordings. It speaks of God being in everything that is of the Earth. God as creator and all of creation infused with the blessing of God.

We don’t always treat the earth as if it is a godly place. But just for today – this Earth Day I challenge you to look outside, to look up to the sky, looking at the sky always expands our perspective. Look at a tree, study its opening in this season of Spring. Look at the dirt and remember that every square inch of dirt is filled with thousands of microbes. Scoop some water into your hand and remember that we cannot live more than a few days without water. If you can see a garden, check out what is sprouting there – a daffodil? a hyacinth? a crocus? Stop and listen to the sounds of nature – the wind moving, the birds chirping, the squirrels rustling in the leaves – all sounds of creation active and alive.

In “normal times” at this time of year I would make a sojourn to the farm where I grew up. My beloved and I would go often through the year, but we would definitely make a point of going in the spring when the water was high, to see if we could spot the salmon in the creek. They swim up a strenuous route to return to the place of their birth to lay their eggs. It is always amazing to see their fins flash in the sun as they navigate the shallow waters. As I can’t go to visit this year, I sent a message to my great-niece that I wanted her to walk to the creek and video the scene so I could enjoy virtually. There is something so restorative about nature which is why I think creation stories are at the beginning of every story. It connects us to the mystery of origin.

Happy Earth Day!

I can’t begin to put words around the senseless tragedy that happened yesterday in Nova Scotia; such shocking, seemingly random, violence. Words cannot begin to explain why such a thing would happen nor capture the deep sorrow and grief that has left in its wake. 17 people dead after a shooting rampage, in what is thought of as quiet, peaceful rural Nova Scotia. The worst mass shooting in Canada’s history.

What are our reactions to such a bizarre and deadly act? Shock – yes. Disbelief – yes. Sorrow – yes. Searching for answers – yes. During this Easter season we are called to focus on hope and life out of death but that does not mean we ignore our feelings or what is going on around us. Sometimes we must just sit with these feelings and work our way through them and end with the discipline to look for signs of hope even in the midst of sorrow and grief.

One of the painful heartbreaks of this time of ‘sheltering in’ is the inability to gather. This is true for all who have lost loved ones not only those most recently effected in this terrible tragedy. At the time of a death, when we are mourning, one of the most helpful actions we can take is to gather and share in the loss by sharing in ritual, telling stories, sharing in food, and just being together. The impact of Covid 19 is not only the loss of so much economically and socially but also that, in the midst of these losses, we have lost the opportunity to gather and support one another at the time of death. Covid 19 is robbing us of the opportunity to express our humanity one to another. This has effected many families and today it is magnified by the tragic loss of so many in Nova Scotia. So, we make do. We hear the reports through television, radio, newspaper and virtual media. Social media is a means to communicate with one another and while virtual gathering is not the same it is, at this time, the best offering we can give.

Light a candle, spend some time in quiet reflection, read scripture, read poetry, whatever you can and need to do to soothe your soul. And as always, look for signs of hope, focusing on goodness and resurrection.

As I talk to people on the phone or by email and text I am hearing that one of the greatest struggles with these days of isolation is … boredom. People are posting on Facebook how many jigsaw puzzles they have put together, how much baking they have done, or how many pairs of socks they have knit. But I am finding that the initial enthusiasm for doing these things is starting to wane and people are longing for wider activity and socializing. Of course we can’t do that. It is unwise and unsafe for our selves and others. So what to do in these days of isolation which is starting to feel more like captivity?

I have noticed a few things that are positive about this time and we need to look to the positives when we are feeling stuck. Terry Waite was the assistant to the Archbishop of Canterbury in the 1980’s. In that capacity, he traveled to Lebanon to try to secure the release of hostages, He was kidnapped and held as a hostage for 1763 days. In his darkened cell he would watch for the daylight to come under the crack of the door to keep track of the passing of time. In a recent comment he has said we should all stop complaining! Then he gave some advice. “First , change your mindset – you are not stuck at home you are safe at home. Second, keep your dignity – get out of your pyjamas. Third, form a structure for the day. Fourth, be grateful for what you have – shelter, home, possessions. Fifth, read and be creative.” Good sound advice and I would add one more, pray for others. In this time of sheltering-in it is easy to spiral into a place of thinking only of our self if we are not careful. My addition to the above is spend time each day praying for other people. This can help spring you out of the cycle of self only.

It has been pointed out to me, by a city dwelling, apartment dwelling, relative just how fortunate I am because I live in a house with a large enough lot that I can stroll around. I live on a quiet street where I can walk with a very low risk of running into someone else. I can stroll outside and see my hyacinths poking through and my daffodils valiantly trying to break into bloom despite the snow and wind that keeps returning.

The other thing I have noticed is how much people are going to church these days. Hear me out. No one is actually ‘going to church’ but because most churches, ourselves included are putting services on YouTube or their Websites, people can watch numerous church services. One person emailed me saying, “We couldn’t go to our church for the service but we sat in our living room and watched 4 church services.” No, I am not expecting this time of separation to bring about a religious revival (!) but it is interesting to me to see how those interested in church and religious types like me, are getting to experience, enjoy and learn from many different leaders in the faith.

For me – I have learned how to Zoom, figured out Netflix, have good cupboard and fridge inventory, am starting my second puzzle, listening to my third audio book, have several things crossed off my long-standing “To Do” list and yes, I do get out of my pyjamas every day … maybe not first thing but always by mid-afternoon!!!! And I keep in touch with friends and family and regularly offer prayer for the many people who are experiencing hardships through all this. And when I feel bored – I count my blessings and remember, as our Creed states, “We are not alone”.

It’s Tuesday – the Tuesday after Easter Monday. It’s the day of returning to the normal routine – whatever our new normal is! It is the day we return to sensible healthy eating after consuming all the chocolate and candy we could lay our hands on! It’s the day we put away our holiday anticipation and celebration and trudge into the work of this week. After all, Easter is over. Done. The bunny has been and gone. The candy wrappings bear witness to that. The lilies have put on their best showing and their fragile petals are browning at the edges. Easter is over … or is it? Certainly in our cultural experience it is over. The chocolate bunnies will all be on sale now. The decorations whisked away to get ready for … what is next? … Victoria Day? … gardening ?

For Christians, Easter is not just a day. In the church year it is a season that last for 50 days – until Pentecost, which this year will be on May 31st. This is the season we celebrate the Risen Christ and throughout the next 50 days, and beyond, we watch for signs of Christ’s appearing. Today, the Tuesday after Easter Monday, is really when the joy and celebration of Easter should settle in. If you read the scripture stories, it is in these early days after Christ’s crucifixion that the followers of Jesus began to adjust to the new normal of their day-to-day. The one they had hoped for, longed for, supported and celebrated, to their view was dead and gone. But something strange was happening for them, because, though they had seen him die now they saw him alive and in their midst. They had seen him crucified but here he was, encouraging them to eat, greeting them on their walks, joining them in their prayer time. They had to adjust all their thinking as to how they would live their lives, and practice their faith, going forward with this new reality of God’s presence in their lives.

In many ways the season of Easter could not come at a better time for us. When statistics of illness and death due to Covid19 overwhelm us and it feels more like Good Friday than Easter, when sorrow surrounds us and tears threaten to spill at any moment, when darkness seems more prevalent than light and as we seek shelter in our homes and consider the way forward, who better a companion than Christ? As we try to imagine how life will be for the next while, what better resource than the scriptures to guide us into new ways of living in community? As we read the stories of those early disciples of Jesus, who were flummoxed and afraid, hesitant and doubting, we are reminded that doubt and fear are just as much a part of the faith walk as is celebration and assurance.

The season of Easter reminds us that crucifixion and pandemics are balanced by life and love and songs of healing and hope. Resurrection is about change and challenge, new life and new ways of being. This hope for newness is what we need to hear and to remember in the midst of our pandemic fears and doubts. What the resurrection is really about, what the season of Easter is really about, is our connection with God throughout all things – life and death, illness and health, sorrow and joy, doubt and believing. Through all of this, God is with us. Happy Easter – again and again.

Many have said, “This is a different Easter.” or maybe, “This is like no other Easter ever experienced.” And yes, this is different than Easters we have known. This year there are no church services, no choir concerts, no large gatherings, no raucous Easter egg hunts, no new clothes, no hugs, no handshakes.

However, I wonder if this isn’t, in fact, more like the first Easter than we can imagine. As we sit alone in our homes, perhaps fearful, perhaps anxious, not only for the virus but for all that we have lost,I wonder if this isn’t more of what it felt like on that first Easter Day. Each account of the resurrection speaks of a sense of foreboding. It took some time for the story of the resurrection to be owned by the followers of Jesus. The two from the village of Emmaus were plodding home from Jerusalem. The disciples were huddled in their rooms. The Romans continued to be a very real threat to any of the Jesus followers. The first Easter was not what we have made it. To be sure those who experienced the risen Christ felt a charge of excitement and joy but it was heavily mingled with confusion, sorrow and doubt.

For all I have missed the music, the gathering, the joy, the celebration of Easter, I feel that we have been treated to an experience that could deepen our understanding of our faith story. We stand on this side of Easter and centuries of traditions have been layered on to the stark scripture story. This year has been a gift to us. It have stripped away the cultural layers and reduced us to the story. This Easter has reminded us of the core of the Easter story, that of Jesus relating to his followers, speaking to them singly, in couples, or in small groups, appearing to them with the reminder that God;s love is greater than anything that can happen to the human body.

We missed a lot this Easter but I think if we take stock we can safely say we gained more than we lost.

It is Holy Saturday. The day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. The day of darkness, the day in between. It is the day between sorrow and triumph. Many of us live much of our lives in this in between time … between learning and doing, between illness and health, between happiness and sorrow, between waiting and doing. How are we sustained in the between times?

I am thinking today of Mary and Martha and the disciples, all those who followed Jesus, who ate meals with him, who listened to his stories, who walked with him to Jerusalem, who watched him on the cross, who spent the day after his crucifixion in sorrow and misunderstanding. I am thinking of their feelings of deep loss and anger and hurt and regret, all those feelings that come rushing up when a loved one dies. I am thinking of them waiting for life to return to normal, knowing that their normal would never be the same.

When someone dies it is hard to grasp hope and consolation. We feel at loose ends. We remember times long forgotten. We find it hard to trust what is real and what is in our imagining. We feel the physical impact of grief, a lump in our throat, a broken heart, a knot in our stomach. We aren’t sure what to do, we forget to eat until we are so hungry we eat quick and easy junk food and then feel worse for having done so. Instead of drinking water we resort to sugary drinks or alcohol that feel good at the moment but leave us feeling worse after. We grasp at “what if’s” and “if only’s”.

So today, this in between day, we need to take time, to be gentle with ourselves, to give time and space for all the loss we feel. And even in our not trusting we need to tell ourselves to trust. And even in our disconsolate mood we need to tell ourselves to hope. It is okay to enter into the grief of these in between times because we have a promise that is bigger than sorrow. We have a promise that we have a God who “makes all things new”. This is a God we can trust to bring a new dawn tomorrow.

Blessed Easter Saturday to you dear readers.