Fist a' cuffs ain't leading home...

I am not going to say a lot, because there isn't a lot to say other than to ask for your prayers.

On Oct. 6, I withdrew from the M.Div program at desired University; the subsequent days have been tear filled and lonely.  Please pray that the coming days be filled with courage, honesty, and a spirit of reconciliation, grace, and redemption - and the coming recognition that these spirits are both possible and present.  

Off for a few days retreat!

Just a quick note to say that I was hoping to get the second installment up this afternoon, but time has once again run out on me and I will shortly be heading out the door for said theology school's "Fall Retreat" for all MDiv. students and faculty.  I hear that the topic of presentation this year by new Dean is D. Bonhoeffer!!  And to say that church this morning was lovely.  Sat with retired bishop of said area and his lovely wife, not knowing who they were until the coffee hour when he shared stories of his first trip to Canada from Ireland and how he came with every intention to return home, but never did.  

I assured him that I will be heading back out west when I finish - otherwise God and I might be in fist a' cuffs... more later.

Face up, O Daughter of Jerusalem

I have been in this college town for a week, officially this morning and have a bit of time to reflect on the past week of flurry - in getting here, settling in, and "facing up".  Through the moments of "I don't want to be here", there were incredible moments of God's presence, comfort, and companionship.  Though, it may come in two installments.  

Already missing my mom, who had left for NZ two days before I was heading out on the road, the plan was to pick up Ms. NZ (my car mate who was completing her final semester of law across the road at the main campus from where I would be studying and leaving from the same prairie town) and be on the highway early enough to get us two provinces east by nightfall.  With the rest of the family standing on the porch waving, I set out.  Ms. NZ and I were on the road by 8:30 and because of a lack of student priced hotels, were forced to drive to the outer limits of the provincial "big city" and only got settled in a room beyond midnight.  Note to self: for personal mood considerations, stop sooner next time!

Day 2 gets us to Thunder Bay.  Up at a decent hour the next morning, I insist that we make a stop off at the Terry Fox Memorial.  Never having seen it, I had a friend recommend that it would be lovely.  So, packing up the car and getting directions from the lady at the gas station, we drive 10 minutes out of the city to the memorial.  As a means of journalling our road trip, I was capturing pictures at various border markings of my teddy bear traveling across the country.  So, it was in grabbing Booker that I realized I had misplaced my camera.  I literally tore every bag out of the car and started going through them right then and there.  Flustered, Ms. NZ offers to take pictures at the memorial for us.  Very sweet of her, for sure, but that doesn't solve the fact that I've LOST MY CAMERA!!  Her solution seemed slightly immediate rather than long term.  Not good enough.  

Throwing (not nicely) everything back into the car, we head back to the cheap motel.  As we pull up, the cleaning lady is working on our room.  Great!  The room is unlocked and she'll know where it is!!   "Have you seen a camera?"  A bunch of words are spoken in a language I don't understand.  Sigh.  Making the hand gestures of taking a picture, the lady suddenly gets all excited and nods.  This only makes her even more excited and the speed of her sentences is faster and definitely still in another language.  Ushering me outside, she starts looking for something.  No, I don't see my camera lying in the parking lot - but nice try!  Picking up a rock, she bends down and simply writes "430" and begins pointing... around the corner?  Discovering quickly that they don't have a room as high as 430, we start driving down the road thinking that it's been taking to a house with the number 430.  Stopping off at the next motel we find along the road, I go in to ask the woman if she understands this any better than I do.  However, English was not her first language either.  Eventually we discern that the next motel down the road is also owned by the same people and its number is 430.  

Getting there, it only took us to pull into the parking lot for the owner to come out and ask if I was back for a camera.  Thanks be to God!  She, slightly more English speaking, says that she'll meet us back at the first motel because that's where it was.  

Camera in hand, we head back out to the memorial.  Busy taking pictures with Booker overlooking the memorial and the water, it was a few moments before I got to read the write up they had.  Now as an elementary student I have to be honest: I kind of secretly hated Terry Fox.  I had never met him, obviously, but he was the reason that our first unit in gym class EVERY year from the time I was 8 until 18 was "The Terry Fox Run".  We would all have to gather in the gymnasium one fall day, watch the outdated movie that was made of his run, and then head outside to do the cross country run.  Everyone from grade 2 - 12 only got the option to sit out if they were personally deathly ill or had a note from their parents.  Sadly, I never got a note and was never deathly ill (not for a lack of trying!).  

However, as I stood there, still flustered from the morning activities... my life felt incredibly grounded quite quickly.  Terry Fox was diagnosed with cancer right around the same age that I was first diagnosed and his age when he lost his leg to cancer was right around how old I was when I relapsed.  And yet, the write up seemed to imply that he decided to run across Canada as a sign of hope, inspiration, and a sign of miracle - lighting the way for those who come after him.  I could have read it wrong, but it seemed to say that he set out on this mission while still battling cancer.  This would mean that he never had a chance to properly train, but knew that if he set out on this incredible mission, he wouldn't be alone and that when he was out of shape and couldn't run any further, God himself would bear him up and carry him.  And yet, almost down to the month, at the age that he lost his battle, I was standing in the same spot physically.  The difference was that, as our paths crossed, I was a two time survivor heading off to fulfill the plans that God had for my life in studying theology.  

I can't explain the transformation that took place inside me at that moment of realization.  My first inclination was to want to finish his run across Canada; that perhaps I was the person who always meant to fly out to Thunder Bay and finish running to the BC coast.  Perhaps it was the realization that life in itself is incredible; a gift, a privilege, a precious piece of God himself entrusted to us to live in love, according to his will responsibly and fully.  Or, perhaps it was the way that Terry seemed to understand the concept of "bigger than life" and that there was truly someone that would carry him through the darkest nights who was bigger than life; bigger than any pain, incline on the road, or weather condition.  Or, maybe it the notion that he understood that his job was to point the way to the cross with his head held high - to emulate a presence of peace, hope, love and a looking forward.  

Whatever it was, it was the inner overwhelming sense of peace that in reference to my journey, it would be ok.  I would survive, and very much, already have.  That if I truly believe, like those around me, that God is calling me to a specific journey in faith, there is much larger reason than I can see right now.  That years from now, the family who think I'm doing it "all wrong" and all the small obstacles that seem impassable, won't be what matters.  All that will matter is whether I've said yes and followed.  God will make the rest possible - he always has, and always will.  

A Seminarian's Packing List

It was Lao Tzu who was credited with the commonly used quote “the journey of a 1000 miles begins with a single step”, but as I prepare to head off to begin the three year seminary journey I can not help but feel like there are a lot of little steps that need taking before I can take the “single step” Tzu speaks of.

I would like to share a glimpse of the “To Pack for Seminary” list in order of importance, which I am aiming to locate and pack to bring along.

1) A Bible. Which one am I supposed to take? An NRSV? The Message? NIV? King James? The English Standard Version or Good News? Maybe I am supposed to take one of each edition, just in case.
2) Clothes. I think that this one might be just as important as the Bible, but I’ve never lived in Ontario before. Do they get a lot of snow in the winter? Does it rain a lot? How many clothes will I need to take? (I think I might need to do a few loads of laundry before I try to pack the clothing up otherwise it could be very bad!)
3) A computer. I’ve heard that professors prefer graduate level work to be done on a computer... this shouldn’t be a problem. However, if I need to print off the work that complete... well, that might be a problem.
4) Cliff’s Study Notes for Seminary Year One or Seminary for Beginners – does anyone know where I could find these?
5) A list of emails for people who have expressed interest in staying in touch.
6) My hockey equipment so that I can sign up for the “Revs on Ice” hockey team that plays once a week throughout the year. This bag of equipment might put me over my luggage restrictions; note to self: go through the hockey bag and decide what I absolutely require to play the sport.
7 – 13 are reserved for those things which I have temporarily forgot, but are crucial to take along.

13 things to haul across to London, ON; not bad! In all honesty, the closer I get to heading out, the more I realize that this list is one of “comfortable items”. The list of “must haves” is actually a lot shorter and easier to do: an open mind, a healthy serving of grace, courage, and faith, and a servant heart that is willing to follow wherever God may lead.

What is the hardest thing...

I find myself intrigued by this quote; perhaps I will paste it on the ceiling, in a frame on my desk, and on a sticky note on my mirror, computer screen, and anywhere else I can think of.

"What is the hardest thing you have ever had to do?"
"Remember that I am God's beloved"

This was the response of Episicopal presiding bishop from a question she'd received at the Lambeth Conference. I will provide some feedback on it a bit later, but I just love it and needed to share it!

Theology of Breadmaking!

So... being allergic to eggs (anaphalatically speaking) for the majority of my life, there are certain practices and routines that to others - would seem crazy - but to me, are just part of life. Often when growing up, this allergy required the majority of my family to make most of our own food - pasta, baking, bread and buns, cakes... you name it. In fact, just about everything yummy has at least part of eggs baked into the long list of ingredients. Trust me on that one!! I dare you to try it. Go grocery shopping and as you're walking past everything good, holy, and amazingly delicious, look at the label... probably has eggs.

I have learned that it is possible to make cookies without eggs, cakes, squares, breads, buns, cinnamon buns, and other wonderful desserts... they can all be made without eggs. However, by failing horribly, I have discovered that it is not possible to *successfully* make bread without the appropriate amount of yeast. In fact, without yeast - the dough is never able to do what it is supposed to do: rise.

Well, as a theology student to be, something as simple as making a loaf of bread really got me thinking... without Christ, I will never be able to do what I am supposed to do; I will never fully rise to being the best that I can be. Just like the bread dough requires yeast, I require Christ.

Okay, that is straight forward enough... however the other part of this crazy theological thought is that because every single loaf of bread requires yeast, that would mean that every single individual out there requires Christ, at least in part. I guess when I actually thought about it - how different my life has been because of Christ and just how different the lives of those around me have been because of this "yeast" in our lives.

The clincher of it all comes down to this though... the observation is that yeast when added to dough does something special... something that no other ingredient can do... it causes the dough to grow. In fact, sometimes, the dough will even double in size. It's not because there is suddenly more dough, but the yeast just has a certain effect on the dough.

As a Christian, trying my hardest to follow Christ and walk in this journey, I can't be afraid to grow... I can't be afraid to allow this yeast type ingredient in my life to have it's full effect...sometimes I attempt to stop the yeast from acting by turning away... by sinning and not seeking forgiveness... by hiding or running. But what would happen (just imagine) if I were able to "double" in size in regards to my faith and Christian practices? What would happen if the effects of my love and service for others doubled just because I chose to include yeast in the calculations?? Just imagine what a difference that would make...

Just a thought I'm workin' on...

Stuck between Summons...

I HATE being a people pleaser.  However, I feel like it's all I know how to be.  

My mom and one of my sisters booked a two day visit to a theology school number one.  We spent Sunday night roaming down to the Cathedral for a service of evening prayer and took the Monday to head down to the campus to ask questions, take a tour, and do a little bit of sight seeing.  It was a wonderful time away, beautiful Cathedral, and one amazing baby beluga.  Applied to said theological school and had to chase them the entire time.  They had my application for 2 and a half months before they could say anything in terms of acceptance!

Then, through a commitment completely separate from my overall discernment, I find myself on the campus of theological school #2.  I spent the week engaging in conversations with professors, trust worthy clergy and soul friends, and found that as the week progressed, I felt more and more in the hands of God.  For me, the conversations with smart and powerful people within said seminary had no strings attached.  When there isn't anything truly weighing on being accepted or not, there is a relaxed comfort present.  In a lunch conversation with an influential and spirit filled clergy person, their question was simple.  "What's stopping you from coming here?"  Health.  I am still on a three month stand by for leukemia follow up and 5 hours on plane is a long way from home!!  "Ask me what my fiance does" (said clergy person).  "What does your fiance do?" (said enquiring theology student)... 

..."she's an oncology nurse at the local cancer clinic."

Humph.  

Part of this week was walking the labyrinth.  Having been told that it would be beneficial to enter the journey with a question or dilemma in mind.  I refuse to say what question I entered the labyrinth with, but within the first few steps, found myself humming the traditional Anglican hymn "Will You Come and Follow Me".  This hymn has been an incredible accompaniment on my journey thus far and part of me is not surprised that this was the hymn that my heart began singing.  However, as I sung:

"Will you come and follow me if I but call your name?

Will you go where you don't know and never be the same?

Will you let my love be shown? Will you let my name be known,

will you let my life be grown in you and you in me?

2. Will you leave yourself behind if I but call your name?
Will you care for cruel and kind and never be the same?
Will you risk the hostile stare should your life attract or scare?
Will you let me answer prayer in you and you in me?"

... it was not theological school number one that was resting within... it was theological school number two.  

I received a phone call from theological school number two on Friday with the offer of a full bursary/scholarship combination to cover my tuition and student fees for my first year, the contact information for a clergy hockey team to play on for the year, the names of two well respected and highly regarded hemotologists who are more than willing to take on my care while I'm there, and the name and phone number of a retired woman who is holding a room for me 15 minutes from campus.  

Yet, it all seems way too good to be true.  And, aside from that, I can't help but feel that I would be letting very much loved mother type down as well as sisterly sibling who declared that she wouldn't come to visit theological school number 2.  ~Can't seem to find the courage to email the purple shirted type and inform her that if she wants me to go to school number one, I will... but otherwise, I think I'm supposed to accept school number 2.  

HELP!

Lord your summons echoes true when you but call my name.
Let me turn and follow you and never be the same.
In Your company I'll go where Your love and footsteps show.
Thus I'll move and live and grow in you and you in me.

How can I, striving to be a responsible Christian, take all that's happened into account and still feel that God's love and footsteps are leading me to theological school number one?  Can I???

Taken on a lovely walk at Huron University College.  Almost walked right by.

Morning has broken, like the first morning 

Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird 

Praise for the singing, praise for the morning 

Praise for the springing fresh from the word  

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven 

Like the first dewfall, on the first grass 

Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden 

Sprung in completeness where his feet pass  

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning 

Born of the one light, Eden saw play 

Praise with elation, praise every morning 

God's recreation of the new day

The Desert Fathers and their amazing wisdom...

I know this will sound completely bizarre, but I can't help but feel slightly unworthy to be on one of the most beautiful campus grounds in Western Canada. My day consists of the glorious sound of silence and is carried forward by both the classroom work and the daily office.

I feel as though I am floating on some imaginary cloud...

After Anne and I finally managed to arrive in one piece (not that we doubted or anything)... we settled into our suite. Being completely honest, as soon as I met the other individuals who were taking part in the course/retreat, I think the phrase "slightly intimidated" was an understatement. There are three of us who are not ordained (granted, the other gentleman has more education in theology than a lot of priests I can think of) and there are only two of us whom find ourselves under the age of 45.

With no real structure or class taking place on the Tuesday upon which we arrived, we began our studies yesterday with the Desert Fathers and have continued them today with Evagrius and the Praktikos. WOW!!!!

We have read the Life of Antony, a young man who literally was converted to the Monastic life through the death of his parents and whose life and maturity are two things that an aspiring Christian could only aim to tread ever so slightly.

Along with Anne and the others, I strive to grow through the practice of "asectism" (or a word that is spelt completely differently that refers to athletic training in the spiritual practice and life), while growing and centering in morning, noon, evening and compline as well as a daily Eucharist. It is absolutely glorious and I dare say... one of the most educational and growing weeks I have experienced thus far in my short life.

Tomorrow we will begin to look at St. Augustine, then start into Benedict's Rule... each lunch hour, a book is read - similar to what would have happened in Benedict's time and we are encouraged to keep silence as best we can. (Granted, email or blogs would of course, be excepted).

Last night, I had the amazing priviledge to study and cantor with our teaching priest, Compline. I don't think I was able to calm the excitement down enough to sleep until the wee hours of the morning this morning... it was AWESOME!!!

My thoughts and prayers go out to all those at General Synod this same week - I don't envy you at all, but instead, hold you in the highest regard. May the Spirit be with you as you continue to decide on our journey in faith as a community united in Christ.

cheers!

Vocare

Last Sunday was Pentecost and last Sunday was also the day I spent the afternoon and evening at Star of the North Retreat Centre in St. Albert (my old stomping grounds) for what was called a "Vocations Conference."

I feel as though I can not say anything too horrible about the whole thing as the idea behind the conference was geuine and because I also understand the logic in holding such a conference.

HOWEVER, I am having a really difficult time with what I have come back from it with and the questions and queries it has brought out of the woodwork.

In a quick attempt to find some way of figuring it all out, I would like to post the prayer that we were given prior to entering the final evening prayer session:

My Lord God,
I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself, and
the fact that I think that I am
following your will does not mean that I am
actually doing so.
But I believe the desire to please you,
does in fact please you.
And I hope that I have that desire
in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything
apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this,
you will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore I will trust in you always.
Though I may seem lost
and in the shadow of death,
I will not fear,
You are ever with me.
And you will never leave me to
face my perils or call alone.
Amen.

Profound, huh? I thought so... when I read it, I thought that I might as well have been Thomas Merton writing Solitude!