Searching to become a plumber or truck driver!

I am searching for a new vocation in life.

I guess that would go hand in hand with admitting that we (as meek human beings) can decide upon what our vocation in life will be and at the same time, completely neglecting God's hand in it, but all the same, I think that is a risk I am willing to take.

In light of the past 24 hours, I think I am willing to honestly and openly admit that I could truly never become someone who lived their life from within a church... it would be way too difficult.

Granted, I understand that no vocation is ever easy and that there are challenges and difficulties along the road and sometimes it would get rather bumpy. However, having to say goodbye to a church family that I grew up with, learned from, and knew God through - I think having to do it once in my lifetime is more than enough.

I had someone tell me that this is a poor decision to make based upon little to no factual evidence, but really, let's think about this...

How can you say good bye to someone who has literally seen you through the darkest moments of life? Can you? I mean, maybe I just have attachement disorders or something, but I will still march down to the other end of the hall and ask "Deany Questions", address sticky notes as MJ, and go to her when I am most elated or shaken from my pillars. But I can, because she is right down the hall.

But honestly, how can you say good bye to someone who was willing to put their entire day aside to do nothing more than comfort you in moments of trial and shock? Who will patiently drop the subject of anointing when you freak out and explain that it is for the dying and that you are not dying and who will taxi to the Cross Cancer Institute after being in a horrid car accident just so that the first time you walked through it, you were not alone.

How can I say farewell to someone who knew all about me, about the pain in my heart and the longing I had to serve, and who even knew my name before I stepped foot in her church; who welcomed me with open arms (although had me a little creped out at the beginning), encouraged me to share my story only by sharing hers first, who pulled out her rosary in the middle of an Anglican Church to prove her point, who offered to journey with me before she even knew all about me?

How could I ever imagine saying adios to an amazingly inspirational woman who literally took me into her arms when I couldn’t get through a service without crying after having lost my grandfather to cancer and then being diagnosed myself; who held my hand spiritually, emotionally, and physically until I had the courage to walk forward on my own and who sat with me when telling the HPO.
Como se dice, hasta leugo to a source of peace and strength: to a motherly woman who truly sat in silence for hours when I couldn’t cope with a second round of chemotherapy and when I finally tried to speak, said, “It’s okay… let them come.” And when we sat in the empty Cathedral, clutching to a stuffed animal like there was no tomorrow, I tried turning away to hide the tears when she put her arm around me, pulled me close and said, “it’s okay to cry you know… I sure do sometimes. I won’t let you fall, do you believe me? Do you trust me? It’s true you know.” And who upheld her word, never letting me fall that entire time, even if my own family did. Who arranged email correspondence with a parishioner from Church so that I could speak Spanish while away from school and who made it her point to fill me in on what was happening around the church and with the youth while I was gone.

Como se dice, hasta tarde to a woman who had most honestly earned the title of Priestly-Motherly type – who made an absolute point of visiting at least once a week with communion, prayers, and oil in tow – regardless of the weather or crappy bus schedules, who was completely willing to wear a mask so that I wouldn’t feel like a complete idiot, washed her hands, left the room to cough, and was totally content just sitting on the end of the bed so I could enjoy the presence of her company. Who would pick up a card and get the entire Tuesday night prayer group to sign it just to let me know that they were thinking of me.

I can’t, but at the same time, I know how stupid it is to say, “let’s keep in touch” or “let’s do tea” because the reality is that it doesn’t happen.

And so, sitting here in a fit of tears, I have realized that there is no way I could be a priest. Even if she is excited, on some level, there are a lot of relationships that probably won’t carry over to the new church because it doesn’t even exist yet. Until Palm Sunday, I couldn’t even stop in and visit her at the new church.

I understand now the heartache and difficultly in leaving a church from another perspective and it doesn’t look any easier. I want sooo badly to talk to her, but until I can actually bring it up without tears welling in my eyes, I think I better wait. Darn it! Now the comment on a friend’s blog makes way more sense. I wish I was more perceptive on these things!!

"Choose your favourite Gospel and re-read it"...

At the time, it was the most stressful and "odd" sounding advice I think I remembered hearing. I had made the decision that I was going to go ahead with joining the Anglican Church and had met with the parish priest twice. Prior to our third meeting together, I began to panic that I did not "know enough" about the Anglican church to go ahead with joining it.

In my naive way of going about things, I actually emailed the priest and asked her to come up with a quiz: some way of measuring what I had learned about the Anglican church and it's history, it's liturgy, it's life and culture. I wanted to make sure that I was completely prepared for what I was about to enter into.

This particular priest, in her infinite wisdom, simply replied to my email by saying... "choose your favourite Gospel and re-read it before we meet again."

Now truth be told, I remember worrying about what she was going to ask about my favourite Gospel, how in depth I needed to know it, and interesting facts about what might be specific to that Gospel and biblical trivia. Just to cover my own butt and in a burning desire to be accepted into the church, I called another clergy member within the Diocese and sought her opinion on this question... which Gospel she thought would be a safe bet. The advice I received was to stick to the Synoptic Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke and that John was a little too different.

This put me in a tough spot. John is my favourite Gospel by far. But, in trying to fit in, I re-read the Gospel of Luke AND John. I was going to be over-prepared so that I could decide and defend a gospel when asked.

I got to the meeting and sure enough, after opening in prayer, I was asked about which one was my favourite. I decided to start with one of the Synoptic - and began to try and defend and talk about the Gospel of Luke. But it wasn't long before I surprised even myself... there was nothing really to say about Luke's Gospel. I mentioned his attention to widows, orphans and aliens, and that it was of a social focus, but that was pretty much it.

Knowing that it was going to be one of those "now or never" moments, I looked up at this mentor and nervously said, actually my favourite Gospel is John's. Immediately, I started working through the reasons why... John is the only Gospel that mentions the calling of Nathanael... how Nathan (for short) was hanging out under the fig tree and minding his own buisness. Peter came up to him and started to tell Nathan about this "dude" that was in town and that this "dude" was the Saviour... and that Nathan needed to come and follow this guy. Nathan made some smart comment like, "what good can come from where he comes from?" and all that Peter replies is, "Come and See." When Nathan eventually gets up from sitting under the tree and meets up with the Lord, Nathan asks him why the Lord didn't come and call him personally. The Lord repsonds by saying something like, "if I would have called you, you never would have believed and followed and I knew that!"

What kind of invitation is that? Well, who knows... but John won my heart right then and there. That was all it took for me - and I think that God may have realized that I wouldn't follow or respond to his call any other way. So, what does God do?

I took a class with Ms. Chocolate-Adoring friend in the realm of social justice. Somehow our group project ends up being on the topic of Women's Ordination (from an RC perspective - where it is not even allowed to be discussed). Ms. Chocolate-Adoring friend mentions along the way that we could interview her bishop... who just so happened to be one of the first women ordained in Canada and was the first woman bishop. We go and interview both of the local bishops - the RC and the Anglican... take both of their stories and complete our project. Over the span of the term, I become better and better friends with Ms. Chocolate-Adoring friend and so would meet with her once a week for a casual lunch.

Somewhere along the line, I received an email from her... I think I may have even saved the email in my hope chest. All it read was, "Hey... we did our report on Women's Ordination... there is an ordination happening at the Cathedral in the coming month where two women will be ordained. Would you like to come and see? We could make an evening out of it."

That was it. That was all it took. I attended the ordination, excited beyond all reason. Cried all the way through the sermon, and knew that the deeper sense of calling might have some level of validity.

Who wouldn't fall in love with a Gospel in which they can see themselves in... as a character of denial and fear?

It was the best advice I have ever received along the path of discernment. Maybe try it... re-read your favourite Gospel and see where it takes you in life. You might be surprised where you end up... I know that I still find myself surprised at the power of the Spirit in my life. I can't wait for Pentecost!!! Go Spirit Go!

POLL... what is a miracle?

Okay, I confess... something is really kind of bugging me... not bugging, but ummm...challenging me.

How do you define a miracle?

Senti-MENTAL bumpkin!

:)

My grandma taught me a lot of things, but having been raised as a "farm girl" or "country bumpkin" there was the odd occassion where I would find myself tearing up over something really touching or "spa-cial" and hearing the words spoken across the room of "the word senti-mental is pretty darn close to semi-mental don't you think?"

She was a funny and inspiring woman. We would have celebrated her 76th birthday on the first of the month - it's kind of hard to believe that the last birthday we were able to celebrate was 70. It seems as though she only left us a year ago.

In the madness of unpacking and trying to have the place "liveable" before I start classes next week, I came across one of the boxes that I kept in my hope chest full of old cards and letters I had received. And, as I started to sort through them, there was one in particular that I longed to find. After opening and closing just about every card in the old shoebox, with only a few remaining to be re-cherished, I found it.

It was a rather plain card and didn't have any special poetry on the outside or anything. There was a picture of a flower garden and the green, sparkled words that read: "Happy Birthday". It stopped there, there was no "grandaughter" or anything like that... my grandma was very simple and reserved.

On the inside of the card, there it was. Written in her now-cancer ridden chicken scratch, the message I will always remember fondly when I remember her. And so, although not in handwritting, I would like to share the message that she shared with me:

Believe in yourself - in the power and strength you have to control your own life, day by day.
Believe in the strength and wisdom that you have deep inside, and your faith will help show you the way.
Believe in tomorrow and what it will bring, let a hopeful heart carry you through.
For things will work out, if you trust and believe - my darling, there's no limit to what you can do.

So there you have it... the no limit rule. The birthday present that accompanied the card was a beautifully knit blue afghan. It had all the shades of blue you could ever imagine... all the pastels, endless skies, and deepest oceans are tied up with her love in a blanket.

I was telling New Roomate that she was welcome to use it on those absolutely crummy days when it feels like there could never be another day with sunshine, as long as she never washes it.

It may sound outrageous, but it's not like a pair of gym shoes or sweaty t-shirt, it is my grandma. And, on those really crummy days, if you wrap yourself in it's wool, you can still smell the perfume she wore her entire life. You can cuddle yourself in it's embrace and feel her hugging you from above. On nights where you long for a sense of home or belonging, she is there.

It's kind of like God, except that God doesn't need a blanket to embrace us. I had a rather interesting experience this morning, where a priestly type somehow wrote the sermon on the wrong readings. Instead of just skipping over the sermon, this priest (I'm sure) simply opened themselves to channel God's love and grace. The prayer before the liturgy started was about asking God to be with us, in what we said and did, as we lead the worship.

The only reason that I put full faith in the Holy Spirit is because this priest had no idea what was going through my head - I haven't blogged on it, and surely have not said anything to them. But there it was... half way through their sermon, while their back was facing me, God reached out - put His loving arms around me and picked me up. It was weird - it was like time stopped. Because there I was, being caressed in God's arms - the priest had seemingly stopped talking and it was as though no one else was in the church.

Anyway, perhaps the title "senti-mental bumpkin" is not all that far off because I can't even describe what it was like today without getting the goose-bimples and teary. How immature my faith is - there is O soooo much to learn before I will know how to fly.