Putting the 'grate' in 'integrative paper'

My penultimate assignment for CCS is an integrative paper, due tomorrow. Yesterday, there was a phone message call from my staff contact at CCS with some information (possible changes, just for me) regarding it. I called back that afternoon: no answer.

I called this morning, she's working from home, the message would be passed along, I would be called back. No call back. So I'm kind of at loose ends wondering if I finish the paper or wait and see. What's the better use of time, writing something that might require dramatic changes and rewrites or not completing a paper that might be accepted as is?

Maybe I'll sleep on it.

Suns win

I can hear BrendaMiller yelling at her TV from here: "Put your purses down and play ball! You bunch of goats!" Thankfully, the Phoenix Suns extended their playoff run tonight, so she can continue her sports commentary. "With a 3 from downtown ... shooting the lights out ... Steve Nash is so dreamy...".

Should be tired

Rei and her parents had a busy day. It began with a visit to the doctor, where the pediatric orthopedist prescribed some orthotics for our flat-footed, flexible-ankled, over-protonating child (she takes after her father). Morning snack featured treats at the hospital Tim Horton's.

A spontaneous visit to a riverside, Saturn-sponsored park featuring swings, slides and geese followed. Next up was a quick stop at Scholar's Choice for a painting smock, fast-food lunch at Wendy's, an arduous clean-up of a poop explosion, and some peaceful moments of eventual naptime.

Pushing our luck even further, we went swimming at the local pool which went surprisingly well. Then, supper and a trip to the park next door where the first trips down the tall, spiral slide were taken.

Yes, Rei should be tired. Instead she's busy looking at the cartoon raccoons on her diaper.

Weekend of Extroversion

Friday
- funeral (where I did manage to work in a Billy-Braggian exposition on cultural identity into the reflection)
- met my table group
- reconnected with my two principals (from CCS and QTC)
- interacted with 600+ of London Conference's delegates to the 81st Annual General Meeting (where I was embarrassingly applauded for my near-completion of my Educational Ministry Certificate with CCS)
- get-to-know-you games with the youth delegates

Saturday:
- opening worship with youth
- shook more hands
- small-talked to more people
- spoke at the microphones twice (against a motion to definitely postpone action on a resolution, and for a motion to transmit a proposal with concurrence to General Council)

Sunday:
- youth presentation to the court of London Conference
- giggling at the side with disdainfully, irrevent Pat and Michelle
- singing slowly
- even more hand-shaking, some hugging
- even more small-talking
- Peruvian lunch (mmm... Rocoto...)

No wonder I'm tired. Back to my introspective cave of silence.

Ohboyohboyohboy!

I'm not sure if this is a recent addition to Just Concerts but I see that there's a Billy Bragg concert available for the listening. How did I miss that before? His poetic, political melodies and rants will edu-tain me into the night as I prepare for tomorrow's funeral. What a bloke!

A trip to Mow-Town

I finally cut the grass today. Well, it was more like chopping the dandelions down than mowing the lawn. As much as I dislike yard work, I have to admit things do look much better now.

Shelley tried to tell me it's an opportunity for me to be one with God's creation. To which I replied that it is our human folly that artificially attempts to control and subvert nature to our suburban specifications and not a desire for holy communion with the divine.

Her response: it's "alone time" for me. Zing! Can't argue that. Does she know me or what?

Priorities

Time management is not a strength of mine. It takes so much effort and energy to come up with a workable schedule for the week, I have a hard time letting go of it to make adjustments. Now, in the middle of London Conference weekend (with its Mission & Service Fund golf tournament, Youth at Conference program, and diaconal ministry presentation), I have a funeral.

I do not begrudge this person for dying at such an incovenient time - although there is a whole other story about my time at the hospital - but am a bit embarrassed at the obstinate obstructions I was coming up with about how I was going to fit that into my timeline. I mean really, what am I here for if not to tend to the needs of the people in the church? Is it that heavy a burden to bear?

It isn't always about me. Just most of the time.

The joy of the ordinary

Tonight was an ordinary evening and it was delightful.

I rejoice that I'm home with family engaging in the mundane and "normal": grilling steaks on the barbeque, imbibing Wolf Blass Yellow Label (OK, that part was a bit of a treat), and watching Rei stomp on dandelions. In the evening, just hanging out with Shelley in the living room.

All of it very good stuff. I love my life.

Running to Stand Still

Just easing back into things, trying to catch up on play time with Rei, couple time with Shelley and prep time for baby-on-the-way. In my absence, the lawns and trees have greened up, tulips have come and mostly gone, and the lilacs have popped out.

In spite of the sprinkling rain, I did go out for a Keith-less run late this morning. As improbable as it is, I wondered if the rain that fell on me today was the same rain that fell on me in Winnipeg yesterday. Regardless, it put a new, relevant spin on Matthew 5: 45, "... [God] sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous".

That doesn't really help me with unpacking, the stack of mail to go through, the preparation for London Conference's Annual General Meeting this weekend or the concurrent Youth at Conference program. I have, however, viewed the Quentin Tarantino double episode of CSI and reconnected to the 24-hour adventures of Jack Bauer in time for the finale tonight. Priorities, you know....

Home again home again, jiggedy jig

The airport reunion was pretty much as I imagined and hoped with a smiling Rei running towards me for a big hug and a happy "DADDYYYYY!" ringing through the terminal. It is so good to be home and with "my girls" (not that I claim possession of them; rather, affirming that my place is with them).

Shelley likes the locally-crafted pottery vase I brought her from The Forks. Rei likes her flashlight (no unique Manitoba connection) that features transparent filters that project shadow images of planes, trains and automobiles. Seeing as she thought I was on a plane for most of my time away, I thought she'd like the flashlight better than a West Jet replica toy.

I had to make a quick readjustment to the new twists to the bedtime routine: reading Goodnight Moon, lighting the nightlight, positioning Pooh bear and pillow just right, and the literal uncovering of feet (emphatically not in the metaphorical biblical sense!) from her blanket.

Sweet dreams, my sweeties.

Leaving on a WestJet plane

Pretty much everything is packed up and fitting just so in my luggage. My educational sojourn has concluded and 19 days later, I must be getting back to dear Ark-o-ona.

On the way to sushi last night, a drive by Lions Manor revealed Brenda Miller's window decoration still in place. Too bad I won't be around tonight to do as locals do: race up and down Portage Avenue. In spite of this deficiency in my Winnipeg experience, I am quite content to bid a fond farewell.

So long to The Nook, Bella Vista, Fort Garry Dark Ale, Towne 8 Cinemas, Stella's Cafe & Bakery, Terraces of Tuxedo, and many more people and memories of Friendly Manitoba.

Tourist in Winnipeg

Unleashed into the world from the convent, and after saying good-bye to most of my co-retreatants, Leah, Amira and I embarked on an afternoon of tourism in the ubiquitous silver Honda Civic. In what is likely my last time in Winnipeg (for the foreseeable future), we found a toy store, Mountain Equipment Co-op, the Forks, and Ta-Ke Sushi for supper.

The evening featured play time with a wide-awake Amira and viewing Hotel Rwanda. Yeah, nice light fare. It is a powerful film about a horrific story and well worth watching. Only, one has to be prepared and in the mood for bravery amid inhumanity, compassion amid genocide and residual feelings of helplessness, disgust and resolve.

A wonderful day, even if it was a Catan-less one. Pauvre Omar remained in Ontario for a phantom practice exam. Bastardo.

Silence Is Golden

So what does one do on a silent retreat? Whatever it takes for stillness in life and awareness of holiness within oneself and in one's life. To make the most of the opportunity to simply be.

Today I did numerous crossword puzzles, worked on my reverse applique finger labyrinth until I lost my sewing needle. (Sr. Marie says puzzles and crafts help focus the mind - who was I to argue?)

I listened to music, walked the grounds, sat under a tree and just was. At one point, I felt myself sinking into its roots and rising up in its branches ... a wonderful connection to creation and all that is in it. A Buddha moment for sure. Speaking of the enlightened one, I also read a few chapters/books of Killing the Buddha.

I went to chapel, chanted and prayed with the sisters. My omission of the Hail Mary due to Protestant ignorance was replaced by fascination at the fact that she was praying for my sins and heavenly delivery. That's nice of her.

We had a campfire as night fell, we watched the flames and avoided mosquitoes and ticks. (For the record: one sheet of newspaper + one match = ignition). Evening came, and then morning: the silent day.

Un-Centering Prayer

In a meditative practice championed by Thomases Merton and Keating (and others not named Thomas), we were invited to join an evening session of Centering Prayer. I arrived at the appointed place at the appointed time, took off my sandals and entered the room.

I was halfway to an empty chair when I noticed that I was feeling decidedly awkward. The room was filled with white, middling-aged women with short hair (with the exception of classmate Elizabeth). It was even more awkward to turn around and leave so there I was.

That feeling passed as differences melted away in a time of silence followed by a contemplative walk (Great! I thought, we’d tour around the grounds a bit, or at least in the building... Not so much, we ended up walking the circle around our chairs). A group Bible study followed that was more or less helpful (maybe less) and then I got out of there.

Funny that I would be surprised by being a male minority in a convent. I better watch out for that estrogen poisoning Michelle was talking about.

Retreat!

The limo came early and we scrambled to retreat into silence and contemplation at St. Benedict’s.

Working with Sr. Marie, I ended up re-engaging the story of Jairus' daughter, the one that had me freaked out on the weekend. Further reflection with this text was unintentional; the mistyped suggestion was Mark 5: 4: 35-41, with intention being the story about Jesus calming the storm in Mark 4: 35-41.

I went with the story of Jairus’ daughter being healed, raised from death/sleep. At first I thought the idea of sleep leapt out at me because I hadn't had any yet. But, it became clear that sleep was associated with safety and security. We sleep best when free from worry and distress.

Funny, actually it's tragic, how one has to suffer through pain and loss before knowing comfort and assurance. And sleep. I predict many naps.

Jedi Mind Tricks

I cannot take credit for this story; that belongs to my learning partner Michelle (who almost was the centre of a taxi altercation just now). She happened to overhear the following exchange between a patron and a staff person of a toy store:

Young man: "I consider myself to be a 'with it' kind of guy ..."

(I knew this was going to be good)

Young man: "And I can understand the Star Wars display in the window..."

(Here I'm thinking he's getting ready to ask the store clerk out on a date)

Young man: "But I'm wondering about the rocks that are there on the ground."

(?)

Store clerk: "They were left over from some other display. I thought I'd leave them because they looked like asteroids or something."

Young man: "Oh good, because I thought I was missing something about the movie!"

(hysterical beer-sodden laughter)

Hmm... it doesn't read as funny as when she told it. Still, knowledge is power. Whoever has the information is in control (be it about Star Wars or anything else). This is what I learned from my time in The Circle.

Survivor: Ottawa

Locked in the bubble that is the CCS Learning Circle, the occasional news item from the outside world is able to burst through. Keith, being the active politco that he is, was giddy with elation when he learned that Belinda Stronach crossed the floor to Liberal Party (coupled with the gains that the NDP made in BC's election last night).

Poor Stephen Harper, with his dead-fish eyes and thinly-drawn lips, betrayed by a key member of his alliance. No immunity challenge is going to make this better.

Cruise Control

With the completion of our student-led session on Empowering Lay Leadership, there is not much else to do. Most of my Review of Learnings exercise has been completed; it may be safe to gear down and coast to the end.

This is it. One more day of circle life and it's off to live with nuns again before I'm able to get home.

The DaVinci Curse

It was with great delight and joy that I reconnected online with a dear friend from university, a Scottish bloke who was a transfer/exchange student from Glasgow.

He bemoaned the success of Dan Brown's The DaVinci Code. This "provocative" suspense-filled novel has prompted more recent discussion of Jesus' marital status and descendancy. A more interesting, and seemingly overlooked, aspect is his treatment of patriachal church influence denigrating and erasing all elements of the divine feminine. In this regard, I still prefer Tom Robbin's Skinny Legs and All.

As my Scottish scholar's Ph.D. thesis is related to art history, and as his academic sphere is overrun by tourists seeking the sites of the Holy Grail, I offer to him this profound words of comfort: heeee hoooo.

How often do I get to golf on Sunday?

It was a lovely spring day in Winnipeg and I took full advantage.

After a festive Pentecost worship service (HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHURCH!) at Young United, I played 9-holes at John Blumberg Golf Course. Coincidentally, I completed a foursome of young CanadiAsian (Japanse, maybe) men. I played in the middle of the pack, with some impressive shots. I try to average one per hole.

It was with hidden glee that I would regularly out-drove my counterparts with my rental clubs as they furnished their pre$tigiou$ big-name drivers. Ironically, it all fell apart in my short game. They were nice guys; quiet, though.