Lesson of a $100

Tis a new season, and with a new season comes new colours; I tried for nearly an hour to figure out how to get everything that is orange - to be bright green but it sadly was not working out for me. It has been a very long time since anything new was posted on this blog so for those you just joining now, herein lies reflections primarily on my journey in faith. When I have nothing positive to say about my faith journey, my nursing thoughts find their way onto here. Essentially, I have been told by numerous people that I ought to write a book one day... and this is my way of keeping the potential book material, all in one place.

Tonight, is a reflection on what started to give the jump start back 'home'.

There was an old priest who was taken from his home parish to preach in a smaller, more rural and remote parish one Sunday morning. When the Rector's Warden called the old priest to arrange the details of the service, he made a point of telling the priest that the people of the community were hurting and torn apart. The preacher responded in a peaceful, "thank you".

Saturday afternoon, the day before the service, the priest was seen walking through the countryside; a parishioner stopped him and asked why he wasn't at the rectory, hammering out the details of his sermon. The old priest smiled, "I just had to pick something up for tomorrow morning, now I'm all set." With that, the priest and parishioner went their separate ways.

Sunday morning came and after the Gospel was finished being proclaimed, the priest reached under his robes, and pulled out a freshly minted $100 bill and asked the congregation, "Who would like this $100 bill?"

People all over the church shyly raised their hands. He said, "I am going to give this $100 bill to one of you, but let me first do this..."

He proceeded to crumple up the $100 bill, then he asked, "Who still wants it?" And still, hands went up in the air. "Well... he replied..."

"What if I do this?" and he dropped it on the ground and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe. He picked it up, now crumpled and dirty. "Now who still wants it?" he asked. No one lowered their hands.

"My friends, you have all learned a very valuable lesson; no matter what I did to the money, you still wanted it because it never decreased in its value. It was and still is, worth $100. Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt, by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless, but no matter what has happened or will happen, you never lose your value. Dirty, clean, crumpled, or finely creased... you are still priceless to those who love you. The worth of our lives comes not in what we do or who we know, but by WHO WE ARE... Children of God."

Thought provoking.

A New Start: Lent, as defined by my terms.

Well, it has been a jello week; you know, the kind of week that barely seems to hold together long enough for you to reach the end? The kind of week that, if you're not careful, will jiggle out of your control and stain the white carpeted floor? You get the point. Over the past week, I have been told in just about every way that someone could be told - that doing some reflective reading, quiet contemplation and attending a worship service - is simply "not enough" to mark a fresh start and a long journey back to the path of the righteous.

In lay men's terms, the message is this: "Look, you screwed up. It's going to take a lot more than miniscule efforts to make things right."

Rrrrrrright. Well, at first my thought was that the Lenten season would be the ideal time to start the process, however... I clearly got the start date wrong. It's what track athletes call the "false start". To be honest, I'm not sure if I got the timing wrong or the lane wrong. I'm thinking it was the lane. What I mean to say, is that maybe it was wrong of me to think that I could just quietly attend weekly, evening worship and slowly start to build up the courage to talk to people. I thought that my ducks were lined up and that after hiding in a hole for a year and bit, things would have blown over. Or, at least enough so that I would have a chance to let the roots grow into the ground before the wind decided to blow.

Uhhh... nope!

So, in true YoungSeeker fashion, I have opted to rebel. Not that this concept is novel one - it's something that has been a theme my entire life. Anyway, here's how.

Rather than trying to fit my path into the church seasonal calendar, I am starting my own Lenten season. And, rather than confining it to 40 days, the only upper daily limit on the season will be 364 1/4 days x 40 years. And, rather than giving something up or adding in a prayer practice, I shall instead, daily reflect on the people I meet and how I wish to emmulate a piece of them in my life so that I will once again, in the eyes of others (and hopefully God) be "good" again.

Some might jump to conclusions and say that this is a poor practice because I was made to be an individual - unique, Godly, and self-sufficient... Or, alternatively, may point out that this is not an "approved" spiritual practice and may distance me even further from the church I long to call home... however, to these people, I would simply raise my hands in exhaustion and share with them the comments/happenings/challenges over the last week and illustrate that I truly, do not have a better idea.

And, so begins the journey of finding something to aspire to in at least one person I meet, witness, or exchange pleasantries with every day from now, until... well, I don't know when it will be until... let's just wait and see.

Let your Light Shine

Well, Advent 4 has come and already gone and the self-assigned "advent reflection" seems to have fallen by the way-side in the blogging world. After reading a comment left on my previous post drawing attention to the fact that there is more to the Advent season than simply allowing the Christ child to come to us, broken, lost and wandering really got me thinking. I do not mean to lessen the importance of our journey to the creche as Christian people and solemnly believe that it should be a time of reflecting as well as genuflecting; a time of looking back on where we have come in light of where we are going as well as taking the time to pause upon the truly incredible gift that we are seeking out on this somewhat dark night.

Perhaps I understated Fr. A's sermon notes, but do not think so. For you see, I am a firm believer that not unlike the Magi, the journey should not be perilous. Challenging, yes, but not difficult.

For the past three months, I have been working with various individuals who have varying disabilities. Some are battling through the teenage years of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome Disorder, some are Manic, Bipolar, Fragile X Syndrome and some do not necessarily fit within a boxed category but cannot read, write, or function as a "normal" individual (as much as I hate the word normal). Two of the handful that have entered my life are, for lack of better description, non-verbal. Although they can tell you what they want to eat, when they are hungry, tell jokes, repeat phrases, answer short questions, and have a wicked sense of humor... they will never sit down and write a novel or be able to describe in any length, how they are feeling.

But the truly incredible thing about these two individuals, is that in speaking almost no words, are the Gabriel's of the 21st Century, heralding the coming of the Christ child.

I was awake all night on Friday, sitting in the shadows of Kristy's (name changed) living room as she paced, stomped, stormed up and down the hallway, around the dining room table and back to her room. The bedroom door must have slammed 102 times throughout the night and the bathroom door, 101. There was screaming, yelling, water-cup throwing and puzzle destroying. Although my urge was to jump up and gently guide her back to bed, I sat there. Did not speak, but just let her be. She is stressed and the only way her body can work it out of her system is through manic behaviour. Needless to say, when she finally fell asleep at 6:30 Saturday morning, I dashed off to bed to catch an hour or two before the other two ladies in the house were up and needed my attention.

There I am Saturday morning, essentially drooling. I do not function well with little sleep. The second staff showed up and took the other two ladies to finish Christmas shopping as I sat with Kristy and had a cup of tea. It's hard to not let feelings of shear exhaustion get in the way of compassionate care. It's hard not to say, "hmm - too bad. We're not doing anything or going anywhere today because I couldn't sleep last night", believe me! Kristy went off and came back with her winter boots, a fancy pair of tights, a long skirt and her winter parka.

"Shopping?"

"For what?"

"Mom and Dad and Kristy"

"You want to go shopping for mom and dad?"

"Yes please"

"Why?"

"Santa Claus is coming to town"

So, bundling up, we stopped off at the bank, grabbed some lunch and tackled the mall. At each stop, she sang the one line, "Santa Claus is coming to town" to everyone we passed. Some smiled, others ignored. The day would have been a write off if we hadn't sat and rested a while and grabbed a bite to eat. There we are, in an over crowded food court, eating the mall's sad excuse for lunch, when four carolers stood 15 feet away. They started singing "Silent Night" and two lines in, my lunch date put her burger down, and started singing.

She didn't care what others thought, I don't think she even acknowledged that there were other people there. But there was... singing loudly and beautifully. As soon as they finished, she stood up and bolted in their direction. Approaching the man on the end, she slowly put her hand out towards his. He did not even hesitate. He turned his page and took her hand in his. There she stood... swaying her hips to their singing voices, holding his hand and singing right along with them.

Standing a few feet away, my eyes began to overflow. Kristy may not talk a lot, but at the end of the day... she "gets" it. She understands what the true meaning of Christmas is and how special that little baby really is for bringing joy and love and peace and happiness into the world. And as I sit in the glowing light of these four candles, the song that comes to mind is,

"Let your light shine, for all the world to see

The brightness of your light within, the joy that sets you free

Let your light shine, to fill your nights and days

And all will see the deeds you do and give your Father praise"

Yes, at the conclusion of this Advent season, almost on the Eve of the Christmas feast... this little heart is singing The Beatitudes as loud as I possibly can. And giving thanks to a Father who has once again, reminded me what it is like when I open myself to the possibility of being touched by a child, touched by a king.

Stupid Phrase of the Day

I drove said friend back to her place so that I could stop by and pick up something that they had brought back for me from the neighbouring province while competing in auto-cross nationals.

Her husband was driving their car home and made sure to say, "so... I wonder who will get home first" as we were about to pull out of the parking lot. We followed him out of the lot and were doing very well until we surprisingly came to a set of railway tracks with the loud dinging and bars coming down.

Sitting there for a solid 15 minutes, we talked about graffiti, break-ins, stupid criminals, baseball bats, criminal charges for battery of a criminal... sure - definitely random things to talk about as we watched and waited for the long (and slow!) train to pass, but I think we were both exhausted.

When the gates finally lifted and we were on our way, it was when we went to turn left (across the lane of traffic) to head back to her house that I truly demonstrated how completely exhausted I was - mentally and all.

"Oh my! That is a very long lane of traffic. I wonder what the hold up is... did we pass an accident or something?"

Said friend simply turned and stared at me until I managed to glance over and meet her gaze.

"Ummm... do you think that it *might* have ANYTHING to do with the long train that we just watched go by?"

Oh. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. Nevermind then. Resume previous conversation. Oye. Leave it to me to bring home the intelligent, misplaced phrases and questions. ;)

Let me

Well, to be honest, I've always been a sap for bagpipes; not sure why, but there is something that warms me from the inside out when I hear them played. This movie clip is one from the Provincial Summer Special Olympics that are taking place here this weekend - with athletes representing 114 communities from all across the province. This short clip is taken after the pipe band has marched in about 45 uniformed military personal, Royal Canadian Mounted Police (in their red uniforms/hats), and cadets.

The uniformed officers are lining both sides of the aisle that these athletes are about to walk through; the officers were followed into the arena by approximately 50 competitive bike riders, and about 100 joggers... and then... the screaming starts - the pipe band is drowned out - and these two, incredible athletes, march proudly into their home arena and up to light the torch and declare the games... "officially open".

There are honestly no words that can describe the emotional surge that came from sitting in that packed arena, on my feet - just like the 900 special athletes on floor level and the 1000 spectators, parents and #1 fans... watching these two athletes march with such conviction and pride.

I don't think there was a dry eye in the entire arena.

And then... 900 athletes stood proudly and proclaimed their oath - one that everyone should take heart in...

"Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt"

IN-credible. I truly encourage you to find out when Special Olympics are taking place in your area. Time spent that you will never regret, and that will change you... above and beyond. Warm your heart, moisten your eyes, and stretch your spine.