Four Directions..

Do you ever feel like the guy on the table?  The one who has been hit with a rock and it has not only knocked you out but knocked some sense into you?  I feel this way often since being catapulted from Ontario to British Columbia so quickly.  I have now been here three months, that is 12 Sundays there-abouts.  Listening, watching and re-acting.  Hearing, seeing and advancing.  Some days it is painful and others it is glorious.  Much of my learning is steeped in First Nation's teachings and I am very aware of the "four directions".

This morning I looked out my office window and there it was.  The most beautiful rainbow .. So I ran and got my phone and started snapping pictures. It was so beautiful and seemed to glow right there. The end of it seemed to be focused on the church; the pot of gold is in the church.   I know that but how do I uncover the treasure that is here?  I am not sure. As I looked around I thought of the four directions and how each gives me a different view.  The mystery of the divine is so much like that.  Looks different every time you turn it over and see it from a different direction.

 It is here in these mountains I can see the mystery and hear her voice.  The spirit calls me to be faithful and true.  To look and see what is really there.  Peel back the layers and unveil the treasure there is to behold.  Buried deep under pain and scarring is the face of the child, that baby that comes to us each year in the manger.  A reminder that a baby changes everything.

Wham!  There is that rock, knocking me off my "know-it-all" pedestal.  Slamming me to the earth skinning my knees and breaking the soft skin of my hands.  But as I am there, on my knees looking up at this beauty I am reminded the sun will come out and I will see the way, if I just humble myself to watch and wait for it.  I turn a different direction and see the dark cloudy rain.  I turn once again and there is white fog and blue sky and it is then I turn back to the rainbow.  There it is, the promise of life yet to come, a pot of gold holding the treasures of divine love, a reminder that no matter what I am loved.

The old song from Annie, the sun will come out tomorrow is one that I will take with me into the winter of my existence.  The promise is that tomorrow is another day and if we have faith, hope and trust in something beyond us that creates rainbows and sunshine then there is always a reason to smile.

"Life does and will go on whether I fail at geometry or not" Anne of Green Gables.  It is our choice whether we welcome this life with all its warts or choose to reject it.  I choose to live and I choose to be happy and I choose to be faithful.  I also choose to look at the divine from all directions because some days one direction is easier to take than others.  That is what makes it so great.  We have choices...

Blessings my friends blessings ...

torn between two worlds...

As I prepare for my morning walk, reading and surfing a little, I look at my favorite writers and bloggers.  It is here I find this:

Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me
         cannot be my disciple.
         None of you can become my disciple
         if you do not give up all your possessions. 
                  —Luke 14. 27, 33

I am torn between two worlds.  The material, human world in which I live and work and the spiritual world in which I seek to be part of.  In adhering to this passage to those who claim to be disciples and followers and those who live in the material world I am a misfit.  I have given up all my possessions. I do not possess a need to cling to this human life.  I have moved into a spirit place where I live here but know there is more than we see. 

Being steeped so much in death that is not directly connected to me it gives me the opportunity to see from a distance.  I can see the grief and the lack of true spiritual trust.  When we trust this is only a temporary place then how can we be in despair when those we love move on?  Should we not be joyous on their behalf.  I have heard it said, "I am so sad for {the deceased}!"  How can we be sad for the dead?  

Giving up my possessions has freed me from this world, but not without a cost.  It is this cost I work with every day in order to do effective work. 

... the seasonal darkness....

Today will be a hard day.  I have now shared in three song services for the young man, 22 years old, who died last week.  It was natural causes but still no easier to deal with.  At the song service last night there were two other deaths announced as friends and family were grieving for the boy.  I have already shared funeral and spirit dance with a family earlier in August.  This is troubling.  How does a nation of people, a small community deal with so much death.  It makes me think of the train crash in Quebec and the trouble in Syria right now .... trauma in the world.  How do we keep from being crippled under all the trauma?  What is the hope? 

I am numb to a certain degree because of my own historical trauma ... the good news is, I have come through and can see where it takes steely determination not to let it emotionally cave you.  There is life after death and it is only through the gospel message that we can survive... but not the old gospel message, the new partnership with Jesus as he attempted to shake up the world in his life ... not the creation of his divinity after his death.... but his work and his practices and his voice!  I am trying to be that voice ... a new face for Jesus, in the flesh if you will.... 

As I embark on a chemical addictions counselling course at the local college my eyes are opened yet again.  I can see where those who have suffered pain, who are trying to get well, and who are struggling day to day want better for others.  Our own pain breeds a desire to help others with theirs.  That is the spirit moving among us, teaching us there is life after death; breathing life into death-like situations.  The folks I am sharing time with here in this community are all walking around affected by the residential school trauma. 

Inter-generational Trauma is real and alive and it is not only affecting Canada's First Nations people.  It affects those families affected by all addictions, abuses and past stories.  We are a broken people all swimming in a pool of infected water.  Driven to distraction by our own pain and running incessantly trying to outrun our own demons.  A darkness of our very soul that we cannot avoid.

So STOP!  Stop running!  Stop avoiding ... just stop.  Listen to the word of the Spirit as it breaths life into your soul.  Listen to the energy of the earth as it circles and circles the sun, year after year,  time after time.  You are but a blip on the radar of the great universe and its existence.  If you think you can change it you are kidding yourself and will die trying.  It can change you though, if you let it.  Mother Earth, Father Sky, The Great Spirit, the Mystery of God, the breath of life.  Find it feel it and rest in it.  Let your demons catch up with you and then fight them down to their death, only then can you live again. 

As you go to bed at night you go knowing and trusting the sun will rise the next morning. Some days it is brilliant in the sky and others it is behind the clouds.  But you know it is there.  It is in this deep understanding and trust of the universe and its consistency you live.  So trust it fully and know the sun will come out again for you no matter how dark the night may seem.  It is in the core of this rooted trust you will find hope to tackle anything that comes your way.  Have a wonderful day and remember God is not just in a book (the Bible) God is everywhere you look and far bigger than the boogie man! (Veggie Tales)  Thanks for reading, pray for me as I pray for you that today I can find the light, love and hope which I know is in my own heart.  Light, love and hope in which only I can connect.  Light, love and hope that I share with my God, my divine source, my peaceful place to rest. 

Lessons in life through knitting

Most recently, since my grandson was born I have taken up knitting again.  My mother taught me when I was very young how to knit, follow a pattern and understand the craft.  I am a good knitter and know how to follow a pattern.  So I knit Hunter a sweater earlier this year.  It should fit him this winter and he will look terrific in it.  As I was working on the edges there were a couple of times where I knit where I should have purled.  Darn! But really it makes no difference to the function or the purpose of the sweater, I just know they are there.  Most wouldn't notice, but I do.  I chose not to go back and fix them. I call them Gramma's mistakes.

So now I am in Bella Coola and I decided to knit another sweater.  I picked up some wool from the local Co-op store and searched out a pattern on the internet and began.  It is a lovely pattern but also just some straight knitting.  As I looked back over my work I found one of "Gramma's mistakes". Darn!  Well that is okay the person I am making this for, while not my grandchild, will likely never notice as it is not that visible to the overall eye, but again I know it is there.  Then lo' and behold, one of "Gramma's mistakes" made it right smack dab into the middle of the back panel.  I could not avoid fixing it.  It was just too obvious!  So I undertook to drop the six stitches of the pattern down about 2" of knitting and fix the mistake.  I couldn't do it!  I had to rip it back~ again, darn.

So I tore out 2" of knitting which is about two full patterns in order to go back and fix my mistake.  I did it inadvertently and without realizing it but I had to go back and fix it.  I could have left it and it would have bugged me as log as this sweater is around, so I chose to go back and fix it.  I tried to short cut it and fix it without taking all stitches back to that row but again it was better to just tear it out and begin fresh before the mistake was made.

Don't we wish life was like that?  Don't we wish we could tear out the years, days, hours or minutes between when we made the mistake and make it right, like it never happened?  But even so I would have known I made it and had to go back to make it right. Only in sharing it in this blog will anyone ever know I made that mistake, however, the one I did not go back and fix is still there.  So it reminds me, I do make mistakes and some can be fixed and others cannot.  Some mistakes just alter a pattern others ruin the sweater, all in all 'tis life.

Here I bear my "Gramma's mistake" in this sweater which I chose to leave to remind my friend that I am human and make mistakes.  The sweater will still keep her warm and she will know I prayed love into every stitch, even when I knitted when I was supposed to purl and even when I totally forgot to pull the stitches from the front to the back when I should, all in all 'tis life ... the grace of forgiving ourselves of our mistakes is part of the whole picture and the grace of letting others know we make them gives them a chance to forgive also.

Bear Aware

Being an urban Ontario girl the thoughts of encountering a bear is a bit unsettling.  I  brought with me a gift from one of the kind people on Ontario. It was a gift of "bear bells". This is a little Velcro strap that wraps around my wrist and on it is a large jingle bell which makes a lovely noise when I walk.  These bear bells are supposed to alert animals to your presence so hopefully they will scurry off their own direction!  It is funny though as I share this with the good native people of the Bella Coola Valley, including the local RCMP officer, they all chuckle.  Upon the puzzled look on my face, they proceed to rename the bells, "dinner bells".  Instead of the bear staying away, the locals tell me the bear says grace and realizes dinner is coming up the path!  Good-natured, I know they are teasing me and it makes me feel at home.

As I did walk with my bells though, it was with some thoughts about how they warn everything within hearing distance of my presence. "I am here" these bells say on my behalf.  It set me to ponder how does the Divine, the Sacred, or commonly named, God, let me know when present?  What signs can I look for?  Does this beautiful presence have bells attached?  For some, I think they need an atom bomb because no matter what happens in their life they cannot see it is the presence of something special.  For some, I think they need an avalanche or a snow storm to wake them up to the whisperings of the Spirit.  For others, they fundamentally believe God is present but beyond reach only to punish us, answer hot-line prayer requests, or to move us around like chess pieces on this earthly surface.  The bells serve to remind them to behave not to the beauty.  So sad.

For me, these bells remind me I am alive!  Able to walk along a beautiful pathway looking and watching out for bears.  Here in the Bella Coola Valley, I literally have to watch out for the four legged kind with little brown eyes, fur and long fingernails, badly in need of a mani or pedi, in your world what kind of bears do you need to be aware of?  All bears can be respected and loved from a distance.  We need to better understand them and know they are wild and not to be fed or encouraged.  These bears have their own environment they live in and, while growling at times, we can live with them in the same forest.  We need not tame them, just understand them better and face what it is we need to face to be healthy, strong and live in a balanced world with our bears.

I love it here with the bears and with all the challenges perceived.  One favorite question is "How are you coping with the isolation?"  It is not isolated here.  There are bears everywhere and I have been just as isolated in downtown Toronto as I could feel here.  But I choose not to be isolated. I choose to engage and find the bears and bunnies in a community that is welcoming and loving.   I walk with my bells saying "here I am, Lord, use me to be your love"  this is my reminder of the presence of the Spirit, everywhere and in all places.

May you find the bears in your life.  Welcome them as a wild part of you and respect what it is that you need to do with them and remember that every thing on this planet is part of the whole divine spirit.  Blessings to all!

Humbling experiences ...

It has been a challenging week.  I have heard stories that should never be heard.  Not because they shouldn't be told but because they should never have happened.  How can I, as a Christian, look the First Nation residential school survivor in the eye and not say I am so sorry?  How can I, as a Christian, not fall to my knees asking forgiveness of those who have been so wronged over generations? How can I, as a Christian, not seek to know what I can do to make things better for the Indigenous Peoples of this country?

This week I witnessed the two, of four courses here at Vancouver School of Theology at the 28th annual Native Ministries Consortium (NMC) where peoples from all over North America, including Hawaii, are gathered.  Time for story telling and witness to the challenges faced in the past by First Nation's peoples.  In the work I will be doing in Bella Coola B.C., I am challenged to better understand how, as a white person, I can be effective clergy and pastoral care giver.

It is through relationships with these people I am learning so much.

One term that was raised by Dr. Martin Brokenleg during our class, Aboriginal Youth Issues Today was Intergenerational or transgenerational trauma.  This is defined as a cumulative emotional, psychological, social spiritual wounding.  It occurs over the life span while bridging across generations and is the result of a massive group trauma.  This is what the youth of the First Nation's people are living with.  This trauma manifests itself in many ways such as addiction, abuse, domestic violence resulting in jail time.  The Native Canadian people are struggling with identity and unresolved grief.  But here at the NMC I see hope because I hear many people telling their story and reaching out to heal and, in turn, learning how to re-engage with life.  I see hope and life here in this place and I see how I can help those struggling in the Bella Coola community.  I am embracing all of this learning and will take it home with me. There may be mountains to climb, but I know the sun will come out tomorrow and I can find common ground with this work.  Bless all residential school survivors and may I sit and listen to each and every story.  I pray for those who cannot find a voice to tell their story and I am humbled by those who can speak their own truth.  

Perfecting a system...

Under the sink in the kitchen I have a system.  This is a system that I devised a long time ago to simplify the way I take care of waste in my house.  One is garbage, one is recycling and one is compost for the green bin.  Living alone I do not leave a huge footprint of waste but none the less I need a system. When I moved in here to share space with my son I brought with me all my systems.  The organized life that keeps me focused and on track.  My son just said this morning, as he tossed the empty cream carton in the blue bin, "Thanks mom this makes it easier!"

It is a simple system as you can see but a system none the less.  Where would we be without systems?  There are systems everywhere.  The problem arises when systems break down and no longer serve a purpose or become hurtful, or counter-productive to the very purpose they were created for.  It is then this system needs to be revisited.

Yesterday we had an uplifting and educational morning at church.  It was Aboriginal Sunday in the United Church of Canada and, with the St. Andrew's congregation I celebrated the Native Canadian.  It was uplifting and inspiring as Danielle, my daughter, told her story of her eight week stay in Winnipeg at the Inner City Mission .  She has raised over $7000 toward a van to transport children in a dangerous community and continues her work.  It is here in these educational places where we see the intentions of the early colonizers who put a system in place that went horribly wrong and it took 150 years for it to be corrected.  The system called "residential school system" was broken from the onset, but was not changed until great damage had been done and is still denied in some circles as being problematic.  For this, I ask the forgiveness of all those hurt by this system and ask to share time with the injured, hear their stories and honour the pain they have endured so I can begin to act and help with healing.  I will do that when I move to Bella Coola and begin ministry with this community.

The mending of bridges starts with a sincere apology and then changes in systems and actions.  I will do that.  I will go with a humble heart and ask the people I encounter to tell me their story.  I will listen and I will lament and mourn.  Then we will heal together.   Take a minute and listen to this short clip of song Sweetgrass and Candle (from the United Church in Canada Website) as you rest and nest in your space.  Think about the systems you have in place in your life.  Are there some that need revision?  What works for you?  Does your system bring you closer to the sacred and clear the way for you to see your own heart?  Are you reaching your own native roots?  Who are you?

The Creator is hovering, waiting for you to find your true and authentic self.  Breathing life into your life so you can find your way.  Rest in your native self and go where you are prompted.  Blessings on your journey this day and for all days forward.