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Archive for the ‘Rants’ Category

can be really difficult. Growing up I was allowed to be happy and, within reason, sad. Never angry. One of the “fun” side effects of that kind of upbringing is that I never learned how to identify the majority of emotions.

I know happy, sad, angry, sarcastic and frustrated relatively easily. Nuances beyond those are often difficult for me to pick up on. *shrug* It is what it is.

My emotions have been all over the map this past few weeks. I was doing really well…eating well, taking care of myself, working smarter rather than harder. Getting back to full speed after surgery and the subsequent recovery.

And then a virus was discovered in Wuhan, China. Which then made it’s way…well…everywhere. I watched in fear as it seemed unstoppable. Surely it wouldn’t get to Canada, not to my small corner of creation, would it?

Surely we’d be able to continue gathering as Church?!?

Two weeks ago I felt as though I couldn’t breathe. I was inundated with information…on the news…by email…from the denominational head offices, concerned parishioners, family and friends.

There was so much information, but how much was accurate? What was I supposed to share? What was I allowed to share?

And the decisions to be made…are we allowed to gather? If so, under what circumstances? How do we get this information out quickly, appropriately and calmly. Then I got a tension headache that made it difficult to think, never mind do anything.

Then I lost the ability to sleep.

I was feeling as though I was running as fast as I could…but getting nowhere. I was frantic. And I couldn’t figure out the emotions.

Turns out, it was a combination of grief, of anger, of frustration, of sadness. It was churning my insides and making me ill. So I made a decision.

I sat down with my day planner and looked at all the Zoom calls I was expected to attend. I made a list of all the ways I need to communicate with my congregation and community. I unclenched my jaw. I drank more water. I went for a walk. And I took a nap.

Friday I had to run an errand at a local hardware store. Keeping physical distance has made me afraid of crowds – well, that’s not exactly true, I’ve always been uncomfortable in crowds, NOW it’s reinforced. Red lines delineate where to stand while waiting.

I picked up the two items I needed and saw the most beautiful dog and his person. I commented on the beautiful pooch and lamented that I couldn’t say hello. The dog’s person said “Why not?” and gestured for me to walk to the other end of the aisle. Which I did. He then called the dog to sit and took off the lead, telling him to “go say hello”. I knelt down and this magnificent beast walked towards me, wagging his nub of a tail. He put his head against my chest and I gave his neck and ears some loving.

He looked up at me with these huge, beautiful brown eyes and my heart broke into a million pieces. I started to cry. He licked my tears away. Eventually I settled and stood up. I patted his head and back and thanked his person who said “You’re most welcome”, and called his dog to him.

Through tears I made my way to the checkout, paid for my purchases and walked to my car. I let the welled up grief out and cried for what felt like a very long time. When I was finished my head felt much better.

I’m doing the best I can. I am reaching out as I am able to everyone I can. I can’t do it alone and I have a wonderful group of folks who are checking in on each other and checking in on me. There was no course for this at Seminary. Yet I expect there soon may be.

I’m seeing lots of posts on social media about “being happy”. And of “bucking up and making the best of things.” And I’m tired of it.

A friend of mine is going through a really difficult time. She said she needs to stop crying and smile. I told her to feel her feelings for as long as she needs to feel them. Because when you swallow them; when you push them down they will build up until you end up on your knees in a hardware store, with a stranger’s dog licking your face.

I’m making this up as I go. I’m doing the best that I can. This is all uncharted territory. And I need to give myself the grace that most everyone else has offered.

So, I will feel those feelings. I will do my best. I will be the best I can be. And the rest will sort itself out. Priorities will continue to change. People will continue to challenge me. I will continue to hang on and do what I can every day. I will take time for me, every single day. I will take days off.

Without guilt. Without shame.

I’m just going to feel the feelings, and try to figure out exactly what they are.

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I am a hugger. I’m a great hugger. And I’m an introvert. A BIG Introvert. Since COVID-19 we went from small gatherings to social distancing and I reckon we will soon be house-bound. Right now I’m going, alone, to the Churches at least once a week. It helps me retain a sense of normality in a world that seems to have gone mad.

Last Thursday I spent 10 hours on various screens dealing with phone calls, emails, texts, and Zoom meetings. By Saturday I was feeling completely overwhelmed.

It felt as though I couldn’t finish anything.

It felt as though I was running as fast as I could, simply to stay in the same place.

I couldn’t focus. Then my head started to hurt. It’s still hurting. To the point its distracting.

Last night I had a hot shower and focused the jets on my neck and shoulders. That helped. I’ve tried meditation, drinking water, walking outside to get some fresh air. I’ve tried medication, acupressure, and caffeine. I’ve tried stretching, self-massage and sleep.

What I think I need, no, what I KNOW I need is a time to disconnect.

I was speaking with a colleague earlier today and he said he feels as though this time of isolation has created more demands for connection. I absolutely agree. Working with two denominations has been stressful and enlightening. Both want to ensure that clergy feel connected. Both want to assure us that we are doing our best.

What I need most right now, is not connection, but disconnection.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my parishioners. I love my community. I love my friends and family. I also love my own company. And complete solitude.

I’m now trying to work out a new routine. When I wake up I open an app called “Pray as you Go”. It’s a 20 minute reflection on scripture with some music and a calming image on which to focus. As I listen a breathe, sip water and give thanks. Then I say my morning prayers. THEN I get up.

I am going to take time every day to go outside. I’m going to restrict the amount of time I spent in front of a screen. I’m going to nap when I’m tired. Feed myself good, nutritious, food. And do something every day that brings me joy.

In my heart I believe this physical isolation is going to last for awhile yet. Which means I need to get myself into a routine and treat myself better than I have been.

We are having our 5th Sunday Joint Service on Sunday and we’re going to use a Zoom platform. It will be interesting to see who is able to attend and whether we continue to use the platform.

We, as Church, have not been in this position, of physical isolation, for hundreds of years. And while we cannot reach out and touch our friends, parishioners and neighbours, we can reach out and connect. I have recorded one homily and posted it online to incredibly positive feedback.

My hope is that the technology we are figuring out, will be a short-term solution and once the virus is in check, and the isolation is relaxed, we will gather in person once again. Time will be the measure of that story.

So as I watch the sun set behind the snow-covered mountains I give thanks to God for the blessings of this life. I ask for a restful, pain-free sleep which will enable tomorrow to be a beautiful day.

My wish is the same for you. Deep, restful sleep. Rise to a beautiful new day. Experiencing things which bring you great joy.

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It seems, these days, that you cannot listen to the radio, or look at a news app without hearing about the plastic crisis in our oceans, lakes and streams.  A viral video of a turtle with a plastic straw up its nose caused an outcry about the dangers of plastic waste, and especially single-use plastics.

It is near impossible to shop for groceries without plastic.  I know I can’t change the world single-handedly, but I can do my part to be a responsible steward of creation in my small corner of creation.

I have reusable mesh bags I use when I buy produce and I try to buy produce that is not already packaged.  I bought reusable glass straws that are super sturdy and a dream to clean.  I don’t use straws often but for when I need one, I have a great one to use.  I’m going to purchase a bamboo cutlery set for traveling so I don’t need to use plastic cutlery in restaurants…usually fast-food restaurants.

I have started using cotton handkerchiefs rather than tissues.  The transition will take a little time, but I’ll get there.

My most recent purchase is washable, reusable panty liners.  They are bright and colourful, snap over my underwear and are very comfortable.  No more bunched liners, no more adhesive struggles, and they wash beautifully.

I’ve switched to bamboo toothbrushes.  The handle is compostable once the nylon bristles are removed and they are easily removed with a pair of pliers.  They are shipped to my home every two months in recyclable paper packaging.  This company “Bam Brushes” is very conscientious of their product and the environment.  AND they are a Canadian company.   You can find them here…https://www.bambrushes.com/

I recently purchased a product that was overpackaged.  I emailed the company to express my concern.  I received a lovely email back that didn’t really say much other than “thank you for writing”.  It did close that this company is looking to make an improvement to the environment.  I’m thinking they should start with their plastic packaging.

I try, wherever possible, to buy locally, or in person.  Living in a small town means this is not always doable.  I resist the urge to order from Amazon for instant gratification…as well as excess packaging.  I’m buying books from the local bookseller or checking them out of the library whenever possible.  Small steps, yet even small steps add up.

I generate 3x as much recycling as I do garbage.  And while I’m pleased with the reduction in garbage, I’d also like to reduce recycling to metal, glass and paper.  There will likely be plastic in my recycling bin for awhile.  And with every purchase I make, I try to make smarter choices.  Taking into consideration environmental impact, cost, carbon footprint and convenience.  Sometimes the solutions are simple to find.  Other times they are more difficult.

I suspect, as with most things, it’s all about balance.

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Sorry I’ve not been writing much lately.  I’ve been mulling over blog posts for months, I simply haven’t taken time to put thought to paper.  So here I am.  Didja miss me?

Three weeks ago I was called by a local reporter who wanted to write an interest story on me.  What on earth for, I was thinking.  Yet, I was intrigued, so I said yes.

We met at the Blessing of the Animals service and afterwards we went over to the Church to have a conversation.  Watching him walk into the beautiful space that is the Church was wonderful.  His eyes opened wide, like a child at Christmas as he took in the beautiful wooden beams and stained glass windows.

We sat in a pew, he in the Presider Chair, and I beside him.  He turned on his recording device and asked a few questions.  Most we about the Church, my call to ministry, my theology and my background.  How I came to choose this small corner of creation.  He then took some photos of me in the space, commented about how beautiful the natural light is through the windows and was on his way.

A week later I was coming back from Clergy Conference and received a text that the article was in the paper.  It was published online and had a sensational headline.  Now to be clear, I don’t mean sensational as in FANTASTIC, rather sensational as in WTF?

The article is here if you’d like to read it… https://www.thefreepress.ca/life/gay-minister-challenges-preconceptions/

The article itself is great.  A few incorrect details.  One large incorrect label…GAY.

I’m not Gay, I’m Queer and while that may not be a big deal, to me it is.  I wrote a letter to the editor and made the corrections and exhaled.

The feedback about the article has been extremely positive.  The community has been overwhelmingly encouraging.  Yet I know there are detractors who will not be happy with what was written.

Why am I so worked up about a label?  Most of my life I’ve pushed against labels and shrugged against being placed in a box.  I like being on the outside of most everything.  I like tossing assumptions against the wall.  One of my favourite compliments is when I hear “you’re not like any minister/priest I’ve ever met”.

Labels have assumptions and those assumptions should be challenged, whenever possible.

There are many labels I’ve owned in my time, Female, Follower of Jesus, Pescatarian, Celibate, Daughter, Sister, Nana, Wife, Ex-Wife, Partner, Ex-Partner, Friend, Lover, Queer, Comic, Pastor, Priest, Prophet, Keeper of Secrets, Child of God.

Guess which one is my favourite?

Child of God

 

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This year, 2017, has only a few hours to go where I live in British Columbia.  Elsewhere it’s already 2018.  I was looking back at the note I wrote this time last year and while much has changed, a lot has also stayed the same.

I had two worship services this year and plans for a fabulous night at a gala event out of town.  Worship went really well, even though it’s been bitterly cold.  When I woke this morning the tap wasn’t working.  I came downstairs and flipped on the kettle to boil water for tea.  I turned on the kitchen tap and there was nothing.  No water.

Frozen pipes?  Yes, but I had more important things to worry about…like my morning tea and getting ready for worship.  Both services were wonderful and we celebrated Epiphany.  I enjoyed a bit of fellowship and collected hints and tips for how to deal with frozen pipes.  I came home, made another cup of tea and pulled out my hair dryer and extension cord.  Plugged them in, aimed them at the pipes under the sink in the kitchen and after about two minutes the hairdryer stopped.  So did the kettle.  I flipped a fuse switch.

My Warden is a Godsend.  When she heard I had frozen pipes she offered me water, a place to shower, even a bed for the night.  On New Year’s Eve!  As things unfolded we kept in touch with each other…and thankfully this means I’ll have water for the end of 2017 and the beginning of 2018.  Yay!

After consulting a friend for advice I called the plumber.  He told me what to look for if it was a frozen pipe.  Then he suggested I call the City which I did and was able to talk to someone on call.  I then cleared off my car and drove to Canadian Tire.  Bought a space heater and came home.  Plugged the space heater in downstairs and after about 10 minutes heard water running…in a good way.  I called the plumber back and he told me I had been successful in thawing the pipes and what I needed to do to keep them that way.  He’s coming back on Tuesday to check everything out.  I celebrated with a hot bath.

My plans to go out of town were scuppered by Mother Nature.  And instead of being angry and upset about that I realised that I likely needed a quiet night at home more than anything else.

A few months ago I adopted an 11 year old black Domestic short-haired cat.  His name is Buddy.  He’s beginning to like me…I think.  He doesn’t hiss as much at me and purrs when he’s around me…especially when I’m in the bath.  I don’t know why.  I never imagined myself to be a cat person…but here I am.  He’s messier than I’d like him to be but chances are I’m dumber than he’d like me to be.  He “talks” to me quite often and I have no idea what he wants.  Although I am pretty sure he’s told me off a time or two.

About a month ago I turned 50.  It’s been awesome!  I’m enjoying this age more than any other so far.  I’m hoping that continues.  I’ve auditioned for and been accepted into the Vagina Monologues which will be happening in February.  It’s been more than 20 years since I was on a stage.  So this will really be something.  I’m scared to death, but also quite excited.  It’s a tremendous group of women who are coming together to make something amazing happen in this small corner of the world we call home.

This year has been about learning…about myself, my heart, my mind and my soul.  I meditate most every day.  I walk outside most every day.  I set goals for myself and while my weight is not as low as I’d like it to be, over the past year I’ve lost 15 pounds.  So that’s something.  I’m eating better, drinking more water, and moving more.

I’d have to say I’m more content then I’ve ever been.  I love who I am, and who I am going to be.  I’ve said goodbye to a couple of toxic relationships and feel a tremendous sense of freedom from that.  I’m sleeping better and don’t fret if I choose an afternoon nap.

My goals for 2018 are to laugh more, love more, read more and learn a new skill.  I’m thinking of learning the ukulele.  I want to lose more weight but more importantly I want to be comfortable in the skin I’m in.  I want to be as healthy as I can be and I have a women’s fitness membership that I intend to use more regularly in 2018.

This is my 50th year on Earth.  I’ve been through a lot.  Seen a lot.  Hugged a lot.  Cried a lot.  Learned a lot.  I drove through parts of Northern Ontario that I’d not seen in 20+ years last summer and it was amazing what had changed; and what had stayed the same.  I visited my father’s grave for the first time since he was interred in 2012.

My goal is not to be famous, wealthy or revered.  I long for a simple life filled with amazing people.  I want to live within my means, make a difference in my community and in some small way contribute to the love in the world.  I truly believe that through love we can change the world.  One heart at a time, one relationship at a time, one encounter at a time.

I am fifty, fat and fabulous.  I will learn, love and listen.  In my own small, quirky way I intend to change the world.  Care to join me?

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I was born in the year of Canada’s Centennial…1967. I’m a first generation Canadian born of English parents. I love the country in which I live and I am unabashedly proud to be Canadian as we celebrate the Sesquicentennial of this majestic country.

However…there is a darker side to this place I have called home all my life and the place that my parents chose as their home and to where they chose citizenship.

Canada is 150 years old…Turtle Island is thousands of years old…likely as old as all Creation. And while I think it’s wonderful to see red and white festooning communities and flags going up all over the place…special red and white tulips bred for our Sesquicentennial, we must remember the damamge that our citizens, settlers, all of them, have inflicted on our First Nations peoples.

I am honoured to live on the land of the Ktunaha in Southeastern British Columbia. There is a rich heritage of Indigenous history that surrounds our community…including an ancient curse that was finally lifted about 40 years ago…

Canadians built this country on the backs of those who were here before us…generations and generations before us…and we didn’t do it fairly, or appropriately. And yes, for much of that history we should be ashamed. The Church rounded up Indigenous children in conjunction with the federal government to “civilize” them by taking away their Indigenous names, culture, language, songs and dances. We committed cultural genocide. This was done in the name of God…

It’s a dark part of our history and there are other dark parts of our history…Interment camps in this region that began prior to and ended long after the First World War. The list goes on…

I’m not saying that we should celebrate 150 years of Confederation…I’m not saying that Canada isn’t the best country in the world, because I truly believe that. I believe that now, more than ever, because we are working to make amends with our brothers and sisters in the Indigenous community. We are learning from and working alongside to preserve First Nations languages that are in danger of extinction. Same with dances and songs, of traditional dress and food. We’re making amends, we’re beginning to understand that we weren’t here first…that we are guests on this land.

Last Sunday we recognized National Aboriginal Day of Prayer and it was a very powerful service where we prayed in the four directions, giving thanks to the sacred medicines of tobacco, cedar, sage and sweetgrass. We prayed with the four colours of yellow, red, black and white in the directions of East, South, West and North. We heard of the Creation of Turtle Island from the Great Creator and how those stories resonate so strongly with us even today.

This Sunday we will recognize 150 years of Confederation. We will sing God Save the Queen as well as O Canada and we will hear of how God is working through us as Canadians. We have every right to recognize our heritage as Canadians…but not on the strength of another culture and community. We have the right to wave our flag proudly, remembering on whose land we stand.

I have wrestled with how to celebrate the Sesquicentennial of Canada…similarly I have wrestled with how to celebrate my half-century birthday later in the year. This year I am presiding a memorial service and rose planting for the mother of a friend who died a month or so ago. I won’t be taking in fireworks because I don’t really like fireworks. But I will wander around the community, in an I Love Canada t-shirt and wave my national flag.

But I will also give thanks to the First Nations who were here first and who continue to bless the land on which I live. And so, I say O Canada…Migweech.

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Around this time, 9 years ago I bought a beautiful Red Kia Soul whose was named Aretha.  She was a good car and took me many places I’d never been before.  We journeyed to hospitals, nursing homes, clergy conferences, cemeteries and even across the country.  I loaded my most prized possessions into her and on a cold week in January 2016 drove her from Southwestern Ontario to Southeastern British Columbia.

She was a great vehicle.

When I traveled West I decided to give her a final year and then trade her in so she could enjoy retirement.  I’ve been looking at many different makes of vehicles, all in the compact or subcompact range.  I like a smaller car.  I feel safe in a smaller car and I know how to drive well in a smaller car.

After many months of research I went to test drive a 2016 Nissan Versa Note.  She’s white.  I feel for her almost instantly.  She’s a 5 speed, like Aretha.  She’s great on hills and holds the road well.  She’s sporty and fun.  And a week ago I brought her home.  She’s called Melody and has already been welcomed to the community from a neighbours Mini.

It’s strange seeing a white car on the drive where a red car used to be.  But there she is.  Aretha had 208,000 kms on her.  She has earned a rest.  Melody had less than 100 kms on her when I test drove her.  I’m looking to clocking as many kilometers with Melody and having all kinds of adventures with her.

It’s the end of an era for me, and the beginning of a new one at the same time.

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