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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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I tend to apologise, a lot.  Often for things I don’t need to.  I’m sorry… 🙂

Back when I still had a real job (before I answered God’s call to a life of service) I was the Administrative Assistant to one VP and five Managers.  It was a challenging job.  One of the things I learned early on was the VP was very particular about how she wanted things done.  I learned that if she received an apology for something that had gone wrong she would often take the news much better.  So I became the department apologist.

When I left the working world (to enter the vocation of the priesthood) I continued to be an apologist…for the Church, for my denomination, for God, and for the world.  And you know what?  It’s exhausting.

I am the first to apologise when I’ve done something wrong.  I think it’s important to acknowledge when I’ve done something that may have hurt someone, especially if it was unintentional.  I also think it’s important to acknowledge someone’s hurt, even if I’m not the one that’s hurt them.

A few years ago I had a discussion with a friend of mine that got heated and some very hurtful things were said to me.  I apologised for my friend being upset, but didn’t stand up for myself and challenge how I had been hurt by what was said.   A few days later I did confront them (gently) and their reply was “I’m sorry you’re hurt”.  That statement hurt almost as much as the other statements.  What I wanted to hear was “I’m sorry I hurt you” or “I’m sorry what I said hurt you”.  But instead I’m feeling guilty for sharing my feelings of hurt and in that guilt I almost apologised…I say almost because I didn’t.

Sometimes I wonder why I apologise so much.  There are things for which I have no control…I can’t control my height…my hair colour…my sexuality…my left-handedness.  I can control my hair colour (until I decide to stop colouring it).  I can control what I eat and how much I exercise.

I know I am not society’s “ideal” anything.  And in fact, I take some pride in that.  I am unique in who I am.  There is not another me in the world…and I thank God for that.

I refuse to apologise for my size.  For how I dress.  For what I say (unless it is something hurtful).  For who I love.  For my faith.  For my denomination.

Yesterday I was getting a pedicure and was sitting next to a lady who looked to be about the same age.  We were talking about the freedom that comes with aging.  I’m much less self-conscious about how I dress now then I’ve ever been.  I really don’t care how people look at me.  I temper what I say carefully (most of the time) to not intentionally upset or inflame, yet I don’t apologise for speaking from my heart.

One of the most powerful homilies I preached contained the phrase “If you speak the truth in love, you will always find the strength to speak the truth”.  This phrase was repeated multiple times in the course of the homily.  And I still believe it to be true.

Many of my opinions may not be popular opinions.  Much of what I do may not be perceived as important or necessary  or relevant in society.  And I’m okay with that. I am who God created.  I am my father’s daughter, with my sarcastic humour and ferocious protection of the innocent.  I am my mother’s daughter, with my blunt speech and fierce determination.  But most of all, I am me.

And for that I will not apologise.

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I should be sleeping…in fact, I should be fast asleep in my comfortable bed.

Instead I am downstairs, puzzling over why I’m not sleeping.  I’m tired.  In fact, I’m more than tired…but here I am, wide awake and not the slightest bit pleased by it.

My brain won’t shut off…I need a dimmer switch, or a pause button so I can properly turn it off and sleep.

The past month has been a veritable roller coaster of emotions…I presided my first wedding and baptism in BC.  Both were incredible experiences.  I have my second wedding this Saturday.  I have been to the doctor to address some of my medical issues and surgery will be needed in the next while.  It’s day surgery, but recovery will be at least two weeks…likely in November.

I’ve learned I have sleep apnea and am using a CPAP machine.  It’s taking a bit of getting used to, and is meant to improve my quality of sleep, but right now I am dragging through most days.

Yesterday an empty glass bottle fell from the top of the fridge onto my right big toe.  It hurt incredibly…so much so that after a few hours I took myself to hospital and discovered that it’s not broken, but there is soft tissue injury.  The bruising is horrific, and the toe feels better, so long as I keep it elevated.  When I try to walk, it’s not a pretty scene.

I’ve become used to walking everywhere I live…and today I had to drive to a local appointment…which I knew I needed to do to get better, but it sure did bug me. I guess what it comes down to, I don’t like being less-than-abled.  And I certainly don’t like asking for or accepting help.

I have incredibly kind parishioners who have offered to help with errands, etc., and me, Miss Independent, prefer to do it myself.  Which, for now, I can do…albeit slowly.  Under doctor’s orders I have to rest my foot for a week, staying off it as much as possible.  I’m used to walking every day and not being able to do that is throwing off my much-needed routine.

Argh.

My Mam turns 80 on the 23rd of August and I am flying to Ontario on that date, spending 6 days there.  While there I will see some people, but not everyone I want to as there’s just not going to be time.  And as we plan for the celebration for my Mam, I can’t help but remember my Dad and how he made it to 79 11/12.  I’m convinced he died because he didn’t want to write his driver’s license exam.  In fact, he died of pneumonia.

I miss my Mam.  I miss my brother.  I miss my best friend.  I miss my grands.  And yes, I miss many people in Ontario.  But Fernie is home to me.  I have an incredible congregation and I’m making friends.  I have traveled the area and am learning my way around.  My sense of direction isn’t getting any better.  Every day I stop and look around.  I live in the Elk Valley and am surrounded by mountains.  Every day they change.  They are a part of me.  And I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

Perhaps I’m feeling homesick for Fernie before I go back to Ontario?  Is that even possible?

After my Dad died I wanted to do something to memorialize his 80th birthday.  After a great deal of prayerful consideration and lots of research I decided to get my nostril pierced.  It would have driven him batty that I did so, and I must confess, that’s part of why I did it.  Every time I see it, I smile.

For my Mam’s 80th birthday I wanted to get another piercing to mark the occasion.  So again, after prayerful consideration and a lot of research I decided to get my daith pierced.  The daith is the thick cartilage in the ear.  Daith piercings have been used to alleviate migraines, which I’ve been getting.  And I must admit, while the initial piercing did hurt like mad, I have not had a headache since.  The ring that sits flush against my ear is barely visible, but it reminds me of my Mam.  I wonder what she’ll say when she sees it?

If I had to name one emotion right now it would be unsettled (is that an emotion)?  My pain level is higher than usual due to the healing ear and healing toe.  I know my pain will get better just as my toe and ear will heal.  I’ve realised that when it comes to personal illness, I’m not the least bit patient.  I want to be well, and I want to be well RIGHT NOW.

So I’ve journaled about my frustration, and I’ve prayed.  I tried yoga, but hyper-flexed my sore toe when I stood up…yet another brilliant move.  I’ve made a list of things I must do this week.  And a list of things that must be done before I fly out next Tuesday.

I can do the things that need to be done.  I know I can.

But first I need a good night’s sleep.

So, I’ll bid you good night and try this sleeping thing again…g’night.

 

 

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begins a sonnet by William Wordsworth.

There has been so much hatred in the world…so much violence…so much intolerance and I’m struggling under the weight of it all.

Speaking of weight…today I was out and about running errands in the community where I live.  I was at the check-out in a store and two ladies were complaining about the weather.  I said I was glad for the cooler temperatures and one looked at me and said “I can see why”.  Curious, I asked what she meant.  She replied “you have your own built in coverage for warmth, you likely don’t like the heat”.

I opened and closed my mouth trying to find something humorous to say in return, but instead found myself on the verge of tears.  What she said was hurtful and dare I say, cruel.  Yes, I am overweight.  Yes, I don’t like extreme heat.  But I don’t think what I said warranted that kind of response.  I took my purchases and left.  I continued on my errands and came home feeling deflated and defeated.

The Church I love so much, that I have loved all my life, is voting on something incredibly close to my heart.  As a member of the rainbow community, the issue of same-gender marriage is important to me.  As a priest with many friends in the rainbow community, as it stands right now, I am not allowed to marry them in the Church.  The same Church that I love is pushing me, and people like me, aside.

My parish is holding a prayer vigil for the duration of General Synod.  Each day an email goes out and is posted on our Facebook page with prayers for the daily activities.  We are offering prayers for the marriage canon, but also for Indigenous rights, for visiting dignitaries and for audited financial statements.  We are praying for ears to hear, hearts to be open, for mouths to speak the truth in love and in faith.

Tomorrow’s gospel is one of my favourites, the Good Samaritan.  The epistle speaks of praying without ceasing, and that is what I have been doing.

For me, the gospel is about love.  The promises of our Creator, Saviour and Redeemer are all about love.  God never told us who to love.  God gave us the gift of love.  We are commanded to love our neighbour as ourselves and to love God above all else.  There’s no division of who gets more love, we all get the same because, in the eyes of God, we are all the same.

Tomorrow’s homily will be about praying without ceasing and loving your neighbour.  Tomorrow afternoon I am meeting with a couple who are to be married in August.  The day after they are married I have the honour of baptising their infant son, the mother and the Godfather.  It will be my first baptism in BC and, as always, a very emotional moment in the life of the Church.

My fondest hope and prayer for the family is that their child is raised knowing only what love is about.  That he never experience hatred and if he is exposed to it, he will know how to rise above it to show what love is all about.

If only we could focus on that which unites us; as children of God.  If we could focus on that which aligns us, rather than that which divides us, what a wonderful world this would be.  We would know the kingdom of God as we would be living it.

So now I will rest my weary body.  I will tend to my fractured heart.  I will rest in the knowledge that there are those who love me, as I am.  And for the rest, all I can do is love them as Christ loves me.

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My newsfeed has been flooded with devastating news…attrocities happening around the world, children snatched from their parents and injured or killed, senseless violence continues to happen and it feels overwhelming…

I’ve spent less time on Social Media than I usually do because the majority of the news I read is upsetting.  Hate crimes seem to be rampant; one of the most devastating was the nightclub shooting in Orlando, Florida.  A gunman opened fire and killed 49 people, injuring another 50.  Mainstream media are having difficulty naming it for what it is…a hate crime.  A man opened fire in a gay club because he had seen two men kissing and it had enraged him.

He was called mentally unstable.  He was called an Islamic fanatic.  The truth is, he was a man filled with hate.  And the crime he committed was not a crime of passion, but a crime of hatred.

All around the world there have been demonstrations of solidarity; the Tony awards paid tribute to the victims of the senseless crime.  A showing that love always wins.  A barrage of pride flags adoring websites, and being flown from flag poles all over the globe.  One man’s hatred is being overshadowed by many people’s love.

And yet, I have seen three separate instances of “Christians” saying that the 49 killed were not enough.  Of celebrating the gunman as a hero.  In the name of God.  In the name of Jesus.  That is NOT okay.

I am a Christian.  I am a proud Christian.  And the God I worship is one who is about love…not hate.  The Christ to whom I pledged my life gave us two commandments; to love God, and to love our neighbour as we love ourselves.  There’s no room for hate when we love.

So to my LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters, I stand beside you.  I walk with you.  I love you as God loves you and please, don’t let ANYONE take that from you.  These narrow minded pastors are not of God.  They don’t speak for God.  They are not Christian.  They are hatred.  And love always wins.

Please, if you disagree or don’t understand “alternative lifestyles” don’t think you have the right to kill someone.  You have the right to your opinion.  You have the right to not understand.  But you do NOT have the right to hurt someone else because of your ignorance.  Sexuality is as biological as eye colour, nose size and handedness.  And for the record, there is more written about left-handedness then homosexuality in scripture.

Stop taking the sacred word of scripture and twisting it out of context to support your bigoted and hateful ways.  Love always wins.

There are people who don’t believe I should be ordained because of my gender.  They hate me because of it.  I can’t do anything about that hatred, but I can love.  And I do.

Take heart my sisters and brothers; we will not forget those of you who stand up to hatred and violence every day.  We will speak up for those who fear to walk alone at night.  We will hold the hands and march alongside those who only want to live their authentic life.

There are those who will live in fear and will lash out.  Our reply must to be respond with love.  It’s not easy to turn the other cheek.  It’s not easy to stand up to bullies, but together we can.  We must.

Because, in the end.  Love always wins.  O Lord, hear our prayers.

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Insomnia…really?

Again?  Didn’t we dance this dance the other night…

I thought we had an understanding, you and me.  I would take better care of myself, exercise every day, get outside every day, limit caffeine, eat real food, drink water.  Okay, I’m not perfect but I’m better than I was.  Yes, yes, I had coffee today, which for the record, was gross and I only drank 1/3 of it.  It was SUPPOSED to be steeped tea.  What happens when you go to the drive-thru…you get SCREWED at the drive-thru…

I’m not drinking as much water as I should…but I’m drinking some.

So, how about your end of the bargain, eh?

If I do the aforementioned, you are supposed to blanket me with deep, restful sleep for at least 7 hours.  I’ll even get up to use the bathroom if I can slip back into sleep.  But not lately.  Jackass.

I don’t understand the problem.  Room is cool.  Relatively dark.  Bedding and pjs are clean.  To Do list is made for tomorrow.  Clothes are laid out.  WHAT’S THE PROBLEM?

WHY can’t I shut off this brain of mine…no wonder it’s addled…can I get a dimmer switch installed?

ARGH!

Well, as I’m not getting answers from you, I think I’ll do some research…maybe about dimmer switches…  I’ll read my daily meditation and once I get my shoulders to come down from around my ears, I’ll go upstairs and try this blasted sleep thing again.

The problem is, if Insomnia decides to stick around…what’s my recourse?  Afternoon nap?  Back to sleeping pills?  Ick.

*sigh*

*whimper*

*growl*

*sigh*

Okay, insomnia.  I’m not (that) angry anymore…can we call it a truce?  At least until the next full moon?

 

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