When you are looking here... it's happening there...

Okay, I admit.

It is a super lame title for a chapter. Let's see you come up with something more creative than that after a full day of studying ob-gyn and community health. Ugh.

So... this summarizes my life to a tee...

I am house-sitting a dog for friends of mine and I return home from a long day at school to the foul smell of dried dog-piss. Worst. Smell. Ever! Some people will say that nothing is worse than the smell of brussel sprouts, but they lie. Tell them to look after a poorly trained puppy and then they will understand that nothing really beats that smell on the foul-scale.

Anyway... house-sitting a dog. That was the point of the story... not the smell thing.

So I take the dog's mat outside into the backyard when I let the dog out. Standing the mat against the fire pit in their backyard, I get the hose and spray the living snots out of that stupid mat in hopes that the smell would leave. After spraying it for an extended (!!) amount of time, I leave it propped by the fire pit and run back into the house to scrub the kennel down. This smell has GOT to go! However, I was so focused on scrubbing the smell out, I forgot to watch the mat and dog in the backyard. Needless to say, this severely untrained puppy took the wet mat and dug a hole in the backyard and proceeded to BURY THE MAT! So, now I had to re-wash the mat, wash the dog, ANNNNND fill a giant hole.

The same is true internally. I was so focused on the fact that these two years would be a time of spiritual seeking and reconciling and while I was giving that my full attention, I failed to see how other aspects of my life were starting to heal up.

Two years into my first undergraduate degree, my naive and positive outlook on life was violently shattered. Fast forward through some hospitalizations, panic attacks, and months of counselling and I would have sworn that I was "good to go!"

However, then as a requirement for this undergraduate program, I found out that I was required to do an ob-gyn, maternity, post partum rotation. I did everything I could (EEEEEVERYTHING) I could to get out of having to do this rotation. I contacted the course lead and begged to do my entire rotation in post partum, working with newborn babies... the answer was a bold-type NO. I asked my post partum tutor if I could do the duration of my assignment with infants rather than labouring moms and again, the answer was... NO. Though, the tutor actually laughed a little before she said no. I visited my wonderful family doctor and requested a doctor's note to excuse me from this rotation for "religious reasons". Her initial reaction was just laughter. I guess I have a way of sounding funny when I'm really worked up?

My family doctor actually did come 'round once she knew my reasons for wanting to avoid the placement, truly giving me the choice of whether or not to go through with the rotation. In her best wisdom, she helped me figure out what the pros/cons were to both doing or neglecting the placement and then willingly wrote a doctors note to excuse me from having to witness any births and sent me on my way with Ativan.

To my surprise, once I finished up the post partum portion of the placement and transferred over to the screaming moms in agony, the labour-tutor was incredibly understanding as well. Our discussion went something like,

"I really, really, reeeeeally don't want to be here"

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What can I do to make your time here manageable?"

"Let me go to the pre-term unit and play with pre-term babies all day?"

"Not until you see a birth. It is actually a beautiful thing. Don't you want to have kids one day?"

"Heeeeeeeeeeeello adoption!"

She thought that I was "genuinely humourous" and literally walked me through the process as best she could. Together, we chose a woman who was labouring with her fourth child. When it came time for this patient to push, she pushed for a grand total of 3 minutes and 21 seconds. At which point, I happily excused myself and went to spend the last portion of my placement in the nursery.

But the weirdest thing came of my experience at the hospital. Aside from deciding with certainty that I would NEVER have kids of my own, I began to feel as though I could conquer the world. Really, as lame as it sounds, I had just overcome that which previously, scared me to the point of not sleeping, not keeping food in, and not really breathing. I most certainly did not execute myself in perfect form or with the utmost grace, but I did it! It was not tear-less, anxiety-less, or sarcasm-less, but it also was not me-less.

From there, I had the courage to somehow follow through with one of my assignments to follow a midwife around for a clinical day. I swear it is only by the utter grace of God that I, one student among 70-0dd students, am selected for a midwifery experience rather than any of the other long list of possible experiences. There, I spent 11 hours learning that the hospital way is not the only way and that there are humane experiences of pregnancy. 11 hours in which I was not forcing healing to happen, and yet... it was. Just learning the fact that contrary to the hospital pathway, particular patient histories do not always necessitate cesarean sections and that the pregnant couple have full power of decision making, not un-involved physicians who get paid more for 'complicated delivery procedures' was enough to perpetuate healing.

Aaaaaand, as if that wasn't enough of a step forward, yesterday found myself sitting at the University Health Services awaiting an 'initial intake' with a psychologist. Unlike this time last year, I was actually able to articulate three 'priority needs' for the 12-sessions I am entitled to as a student. Granted, my second and third priority and reason for seeking psychological services both had "related to number one" written beside it, this is both huge and awesome!

Finally, as a true testament to the grand improvements that seem to be happening in life, I was able to attend not one, but two massage therapy appointments in the past three weeks. While these appointments would be heavenly relaxation to most, being able to trust someone enough to be able to lay on my stomach, having severely limited vision because of having to put one's face in that stupid face-toilet-bowl-shaped-thing, while the almost-complete-stranger makes physical contact with the clothes-limited me... is... exciting beyond words!

For those who know me even slightly, they know that this last step is truly reflective of the inner healing that has already started. Seeds that were planted in this heart of dirt over these past two years are now sprouting through the black soil in search of the sunlight warmth. I only have a mere 6 months left in the program, but that is more than enough time in my humble opinion, to continue on this journey. And, as I said to someone today, even if I never actually nurse a day in life (I *will* nurse, but if I never got the chance to), I now understand why I embarked upon this particular journey almost two years ago.

So, while I was busy trying to scrub the smell out of this spiritual kennel of mine, the healing was continuing to grow in my flower pot. The seeds that were planted over the years by nursing instructors who claimed that my brick walls were too high and suggested some level of psychotherapy... those incredibly loving people who let me hang out and play music with them every now and again without any church requirements, constantly reminding me of the fact that I am loved for who I am and where I am on this journey...those people who remind me all the time that ultimately - I just need to be me. Me, the genuinely humourous child who needs the reminder to water the plant every now and again.

Crazy how that works, isn't it? I should know by now that things never really happen how we plan them out to, but rather - they happen when we least expect them, don't feel ready or worthy of them, and when we have the inner strength to laugh at the pure irony and coincidence of the timing of them.

Hope... better deemed... Expectation.

It would seem that Advent would be an odd time for a lost and wandering sheep to offer thoughts on this Advent journey through the desert, but whatevs... I'm all about oddness.

Can you believe that for 20-odd years, I lived my life not realizing there were "themes" to each one of the Advent weeks? It's sad, yet entirely true. I clearly was not paying enough attention during Sunday morning homilies to recognize and distinguish one week from the next. However, I must admit, I am a convert. I kind of like having a bit of direction... a bit of a theme to live that week within.

Hope.

A few years ago, our Diocese was fortunate enough to have a Brother from the Taize community in France come and lead a youth retreat. His theme for the weekend was none other than "hope" and for some reason, I got volunteered to give a testament of how I personally experienced and lived out "hope" in a tangible way. I'm pretty sure I blabbed on about something completely removed from what I should/could have said because in all honesty, I was not really the right person for the job and frankly, had nothing positive to contribute to the concept.

However, years later, I had a child teach me what it meant to hope in something... to place expectations in something and that is the story I feel compelled to share.

It was a cold and snowy December night in the final days before Christmas; the roads were icy, the temperature in the low 30's (C), and anyone in their sane mind would have been spending the Friday evening at home with the fireplace going and Christmas music playing. It was the night that the local "inner city parish" was hosting a musical/narrated production of "Touched by a Child" as a fundraiser for a local charity that works to find affordable housing for low income families. The show was sold out, the choir had met every Sunday afternoon for months to practice their four part harmonies, and people with "stories" to share had practiced their dramatic reading numerous times with the local clergy person who wrote the whole production.

The concept was that we, as a music/narrator team, were to tell the story of the Christ child from various perspectives. There was a story from the Inn Keeper, from the Dove, from one shepherd who saw a star in the night sky and followed it to the manger. A total of 5 "stories" were intertwined with music and congregation-inclusive Christmas carols.

Originally, I was to be part of the choir. My untrained alto voice, with enough rehearsals, had almost become acceptable to listen to. However, days before the 'big night', the writer approached me and asked if I might consider reading/sharing the story of the Shepherd because she felt that I could fit the part. It also meant that because I wasn't feeling very well, I could sit with the readers in the congregation rather than being up in the choir roster staring out at the crowd.

I spent that Friday running around to various appointments and late in the afternoon, laid down for a nap. Unfortunately, the nap went longer than expected and I found myself rushing to get out the door in time to battle the road conditions and frigid temperatures. Doing my hair took seconds, I threw on a decent looking outfit, and bolted. I probably sped the whole way, but I literally had to be there. I couldn't bring myself to call the clergy person and say, "sorry, I'm exhausted and it's a no-go".

Arriving at the neatly decorated church, I ran in, dropped my coat, stood in line with the other readers when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

There was one of the choir members I had grown to know over the practices and her 4-5 yr old grandson I had met once (because he was required to sit through a rehearsal). From behind his back, he pulled out a stuffed bear. His words were minimal, but the impact, lasting.

"This will make you better"... and off he ran. His grandmother, my fellow choir member, began to try and explain why I had received the bear. Apparently the funds from the bear were designated to the local children's hospital and when Connor saw the bear and knew that I wasn't feeling well, he insisted that they buy me a bear because his teddy bear always made him feel better.

The tears rolled my cheeks, because it all finally made sense. Conner had placed all of his hopes and expectations in that little stuffed bear... his hopes that it would make me feel better, the expectation that I would be better. He had no understanding of what was going on in my life, but he didn't need to. Because for him, none of the details mattered. All I would need... was in that little bear.

And, just as Conner had placed all of his hope for me in that little stuffed animal, I knew that I in turn, had to place all of my hopes and expectations in the Christ Child that would laying in that manger Christmas Eve... and that if I did that, I would allow myself to be Touched by a Child... Touched by a King.

It seems so stupid that I would need a tangible example of hope before I could physically and spiritually live in it and through it. But truth be told, there is not a Christmas that goes by where I don't pick up that little stuffed bear, give it a hug, and give thanks for a little guy named Connor... who taught what it means to hope and just how I can place all that hope in the birth of that Child, that Saviour, that King.

May we all, this hope-filled Advent week, find that tangible source of hope we seek.

Thank you Wayne

Following my volunteer experience with the Provincial Summer Olympics, there was a lot going on, including a 25th wedding anniversary, a 70th birthday, and some much (much!) needed time off before summer session started to truly reflect on a number of things. While growing is often painful at the time, here are some of the reflections that came out of the time away.

1) If someone tells you that what you say is held in confidence, don't believe them. If they have to say this to reassure you, it means that they probably are not the person you should trust your heavy heart with.

2) Open your heart enough to receive a hug from a stranger. These are often the most healing hugs in which there are no expectations.

3) Listen carefully to the people that others would ignore at first glance: a Downs Syndrome first baseman can teach you more about love, life, and laughter than any book in the Bible. Listen to the words they speak as much as the words they don't.

4) Write something everyday. Whether it be a card, a song lyric, a word... write down anything that strikes you in some way. If it strikes you, it is meant to be expressed. Express it. You can always reflect on it later... but write it down somewhere before you forget it.

5) Understand that as hard as they try, family and friends will undoubtably let you down. Regardless of how good they are at cards or eating ice cream on a rainy day, the day will come when they forget, don't follow through, or spend too long staring at their own reflection in the mirror. They are human. Accept it because acceptance mellows the pain for when it happens.

6) Trust that you will cause the tears of another person, hopefully unintentionally. You will forget to call or write, be too busy to stop in for tea, or say something that should have remained inside your head. When this happens, and it will, recognize their pain and their need for reconciliation and healing. Respect it. Work on making this a rare occurance.

7) Spending a day in bed in a pool of built up tears is okay. Two days is alright, but three days might be one too many.

8) Give all you've got to everything you do; this includes personal time and rest. If you give 'er everything you've got to everyone you who 'needs' you, you will burn out. Ensure adequate oxygen to that flame. If someone you love is in a state of crisis, God will watch over them until you are rested enough to save them.

9) Make at least one person laugh every single day of your life. If they don't laugh, at least make them smile; hopefully you'll understand the importance of this when the flood is a comin' in your life and laughter is the only lifeboat you can see for miles. Invest in the laughter of others and when the time comes, pray that they will invest the same in you.

10) When it's raining outside, hop in your car or take your umbrella and leave. Drive (or walk) somewhere in the middle of nowhere... no cars, no streetlights, no tires splashing water everywhere. And sit. Just roll down your window and sit. No radio, no talking, no distractions. Just. Listen. Experience. One rain shower is enough to save a farmer's field from grasshoppers and drought, enough to fill a pond with water and give the fish back reassurance that everything will be okay. A rain shower is enough to save a tiny canola plant or stalk of wheat... I guarentee it is enough for you.

The 1 Millionth Psalm

"I heard there was secret chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord..." (from Hallelujah, as seen in Shrek)

Relationships are a funny thing.  For when a relationship is blossoming well, all we want to do is sing the praises of the other person or how wonderful life is.  However, when relationships are hurting in some way, we exhaust ourselves trying to figure out how to "make things better" and return once again to that state of wonderful elation.  Yet, in our efforts to "make things better" or return things to the way they were, we so often get disorientated and get confused on which relationships we can affect and which ones are out of our control.  

On Monday, I literally will have spent 8 months agonizing over broken relationships with human loved ones.  I have tried to come up with various solutions and possible answers on how I can repair these relationships.  Everything from starting anew to pretending we had never met...all the while, ignoring the one, single relationship in my life that I actually had some influence upon. I don't think that the 8 months was necessarily "wasted" effort and time, I'm just kind of ashamed to admit that it took this long to realize which relationship I needed to put my energy into saving.  

And so... comes the creation of The 1 Millionth Psalm.  A song, a prayer, a heart - crying to God. 

I am well aware of the fact that the Bible contains 150 psalms and that a number of musical artists have written "151 Psalm"... but 1 million seems like a safer number.  It is a number that acknowledges the fact that after everything, I don't deserve to be 151st or 152nd or even 999 999th in line to bring my song before our God.  It also acknowledges that there will be time to ultimately prepare for that journey to the altar, for I believe it will take longer than 30 seconds for God to hear the psalms 151-999 999 and work with the psalmist. Which, in frank honesty, is what I need.  

However, all that blabbing aside it is written and ready for the day when it is my turn to approach in timid fear and sing it before the Lord, my God, the only true shepherd of lost and wandering souls.  And without any further adieu, I share with you... The 1 Millionth Psalm.

The One Millionth Psalm

2009

My faith was tried, my heart is cold

Running away from Your Fire of love. 

And now I sit,

On the edge of abyss,

Waiting for You to take me home. 

Oh my God,

Take me into your arms again

Oh my Lord,

Take me, and call me yours.

In this great mirror of life,

All I saw was me, O Lord.

But now I know,

I was wrong

Cause others...

Always shine of you. 

Please grant peace to those in life,

the loved ones I hurt

Heal their pain

with Your glowing love

Shower,

their paths with grace.

My eyes are healed,

the mud has cracked.

I can see Your Light, O Lord

But my soul,

it`s got a hole

Upon Your mighty altar, 

I lay it.

Feast of the Ascension

Yesterday, by my calendar, marked the Feast of the Ascension (which in most churches, will be carried forward to this coming Sunday). While I have made the choice to work on Sunday in a job that is 100% secularized and removed from any thought of Christianity, this doesn't keep me from quietly marking this feast day with a day of reflection and introspection.

I was raised with the teaching that the Feast of the Ascension is an important feast for two reasons:
1) It is a pivotal point in Christian belief and doctrine that Christ rose from the dead, ascended into heaven and sits on the right hand of the Father. To not believe this would probably be heresy!
2) That Ascension is always a "forward-looking" feast. Unlike a lot of the other feast days within the Christian Church that mark a memorable occasion or individual, Ascension marks the beginning of the first novena for Pentecost. Just as Christ prayed for the Holy Spirit to descend upon the apostles, we too pray, that the Holy Spirit may enter every avenue of our lives, guide our steps, and transform our very being.

And it is this latter reason that has really got me thinking.

A few weeks ago, I was asked to play music for a Confirmation Mass in which 50 some grade six students were confirmed in the Roman rite. The Archdiocesan bishop was unable to attend, so Bishop-Emeritus of a Northern most Diocese who was passing through town took the service. A French Missionary Bishop, +C. For some reason, I cannot get his sermon out of my mind... and it is this sermon, that has been the starting point of reflection in the days leading up to Pentecost.

He started by reminding the confirmands that there is one, single, unforgivable sin: a sin against the Holy Spirit. (Theological training has taught me that "a sin against the Holy Spirit" is any sin which ultimately denies the presence or work of the Spirit in one's life...) He then proceeded to explain what the Holy Spirit was. To do this, he told a story.

"Imagine with me for a moment. It is summer time and your parents are sooo delighted that you made the choice to be confirmed in the faith, that they tell you they have a special vacation planned for you and your family. You are all going to drive to Vancouver for a week. You've never been to Vancouver and so you are very excited to go. Now, as you are driving, you have to go through the Rocky Mountains. And while you are driving along the road, your sister points out her window and says, 'I see a moose, waaaaaaaay up on the mountain'. The whole family strain to look out that side of the car and people say, 'oh yea... there is something up there!'. You remember that you packed a pair of binoculars, so you pull them out of your bag and look up to the top of the mountain. And there you see, a mother bear and her two young cubs. Excited to share this beautiful sight with your family, you pass around the binoculars. At that moment in time, the Holy Spirit is a pair of binoculars. You see, the Holy Spirit will come into your life in times where things are blurry and will provide clarity. And I promise you, the Holy Spirit will allow you to see the most beautiful sights, just like the binoculars will allow you to see a mother bear and her cubs.

Now driving a little further, it is a lovely sunny day, and Mom says, 'I packed a picnic lunch for everyone, let's have a picnic!' Finding a nice little park in the mountains, a blanket is pulled out and a wonderful lunch for everyone. But in the excitement to leave, no one packed utensils. All of a sudden, you remember that you packed your Swiss-army knife. Pulling it out, you use the fork for a bit and then pass it on so that others can eat and when it comes back to you, you change it to the spoon, have a few bites, and pass it around again for others to use. In fact, when it comes time to open the pretend bubbly, your knife even has a corkscrew. In this moment, the Holy Spirit is a Swiss-army knife. The Holy Spirit will equip you and enable you with tools and gifts to be shared with others. The Holy Spirit is a gift and begs to be shared.

After lunch, you are driving further into the mountains and as the day gets later into the afternoon, the sun is getting lower and lower. Soon, Dad says, 'I think we may need to stop for the day. The sun is blinding me and I can't see the road and we might go off the road or hit an animal. It's too dangerous!' Taking your handy sunglasses off your head, you pass them up to the front seat for Dad. At this moment, the Holy Spirit is a pair of sunglasses. Sometimes in life, danger will be looming right around the corner. Temptations will be glaring and blinding, but the Holy Spirit will be there to once again make your navigating safe and remove the blinding ability of temptation and sin, doing it's best to keep you on the straight and narrow to your destination.

Once you finally get into Vancouver, you decide that it's time to tour around and see all the magnificant sights. There is the park, the aquarium, the ocean... so many things to do, and so little time. What to do and where to go? Not wanting to waste too much time driving around on busy streets and getting lost, Dad runs out to the gas station on the corner and returns with a city map. At this moment, the Holy Spirit is a map of Vancouver city. The Holy Spirit will guide you through unknown territory with incredible precision and grace. It will guide you where to turn and how to not get lost along the way to the final resting place we are all headed to. The Holy Spirit, unlike our own desires, will never lead you astray..."

This was the basic summary of his sermon and from here, he explained to the students that Confirmation was the receiving of this Holy Spirit into their lives and journeys. Truly one of the most incredible Confirmation sermons I have ever heard... and more importantly, one of the first sermons I have actually listened to since early October.

It may seem like a simple, assumed fact to most - that Holy Spirit is all of this and more, but when you are driving along, take a wrong turn (followed by a long series of wrong turns trying to once again find your way), get utterly and completely lost... when the sun is shining and you are blinded from reading the roadsigns that you whiz by, and now have no idea where you are, how you got there, or how to even start getting back... the sermon is a kick in the teeth.

I get it. I'm not stupid. The Holy Spirit is the Robe of Righteousness that we are given when we enter the banquet hall for the feast. The Holy Spirit is that tiny voice inside your heart that leaps for joy when God is recognized in a spring rain, a field of sprouting crop, or in the voice of a friend, calling to say hello.

But what I don't get, is how I can possibly be standing in that group of disciples 9 days from today, to be showered and empowered with the Holy Spirit. I want to see the bear with her cubs, to pass the knife around the picnic, to not be blinded, and to have a map to guide me back to the place I made the wrong turn so I can be guided through life on the right path once again.

Maybe 8 more days of reflection might tell me how?