O Canada!

Yesterday I attended a Remembrance Day Service at the local Cenotaph. I hadn't been for a few years, and was surprised by the attendance numbers. Perhaps people came out in a show of patriotism after the shooting at Ottawa's cenotaph and in Quebec a few weeks ago. With global terrorism incidents so regular in our news, it strikes me over and over again how blessed I am to be a Canadian citizen.

Ours is a country that truly strives for respect of all races, colors, faiths and nationalities. I'm proud of that.  Ours is also a country that steps in to work for peace. I'm proud of that too. I'm grateful for our military troops, for our law enforcement and first responders.

I feel so blessed to have been born in this country.  How different life is in parts of the world where children grow up with strong biases against certain groups, where violence is the norm, or where poverty keeps children or sometimes just girls from getting a decent education, health care or proper nutrition. I could have been born in a country where children are taught to bear arms - and use them - at an early age.

Growing up, I somehow supposed that people the world over lived more or less like I did. What a naive assumption that was! How much I have learned - and in the learning come to see that, being blessed as I am, I am responsible to be a part of their solution in whatever way i can.

And indeed, I am so grateful for this country. My country.

When we sang "O Canada" at the service yesterday, I had to stop singing for the lump that formed in my throat. God, keep our land glorious and free...

Apologies

I was listening to Stuart McLean on CBC this morning - The Vinyl Cafe series.

I've always enjoyed his work. He's informing, thought-provoking, funny, his sense of timing is impeccable, and he's believable. I think most Canadians who listen to his stories respect McLean for the being a loyal Canadian who often brings out the lighter side of our nationality while exposing our vulnerabilities.

This morning, McLean offered an apology for how he came across in one of his previous broadcasts. Before offering his own apology, McLean spoke highly of Prime Minister Harper's admission of wrong and apology to the Canadian First Nations for the treatment they received in residential schools over more than a century. McLean also talked about the Australian Government, taking it a step further with their Aboriginal People by declaring an annual 'Sorry Day', to remember the wrongs committed and put some traction to their apology.

Listening to McLean's apology - something that, quite frankly, was an anomaly for the program - gave me greater respect for the man as a writer and human being. He spoke of writing, and how writers do what they do to release the thoughts and ideas within themselves, and also to bring greater awareness of history and current events to their readers. I had some 'Yes!' moments as I resonated with his comments.

McLean's own admission of insensitivity made me realize that no matter how loved or accomplished we are in what we do - as writers, communicators - we are bound to make mistakes. Other people will come forward to challenge our ideas, our assumptions or our attempts to present issues in a specific light. This is not a bad thing. I liked McLean's comment that he was given "pause".

Sometimes our errors are, in hindsight, embarrassing. We look back, smack our forehead with our palm, and ask ourselves, "How could I have done that?" Other times, we realize we've committed errors by not thinking things through from all angles.  And there are always many.

Just this week, I was bemoaning the fact that I had made a blunder. In retrospect, I'm still not sure how I managed to do it, yet I, like McLean had been unwittingly insensitive to someone through my writing.

My ever-supportive husband recognized my need for a hug, and reminded me that he, too, struggles when he makes mistakes in his work. We feel like we should know better. We're hard on ourselves. But taking 'pause' is important. Considering how I have annoyed or hurt someone is humbling.

Writing is risky. Following our heart and dreams is risky. Sometimes we'll look ridiculous in the opinion of others.

Is it worth it? Definitely. Anything worth doing demands a striving for excellence and has its own rewards.

Taking responsibility for what I say and do gives me credibility as a human being, humility as a writer and earns the respect of others if I'm sincere in my apology and learn from my blunders. We'll never be perfect this side of Heaven.  That said, I still hate making mistakes.

Zombies and Miracles

When I heard a radio ad about the annual Zombie Walk in Vancouver last week, I got to thinking about how some people get their 'kicks'. I, for one, don't get it. To me there's nothing lovely, attractive, beautiful or compelling about dressing up like the 'walking dead' with blood smeared all over my face and body.

I considered posting a picture of the heinous costumes and make-up, but I couldn't do it. Not even to give you an idea of what this looks like. It's just too...gruesome and truthfully, the pictures sicken me, as I'm sure they're meant to.

I find it incredulous that people actually enjoy playing around with the ugliness of death, deformity, mutilation, gore and decay. Where's the attraction? Innocent fun? Really?

One of the rules for the Vancouver Zombie Walk states: 'Though we big kids all see the fun in it, small children may not, and if you see any children reacting fearfully, please do not add to their distress. Just move on and let their parents explain … do NOT accidentally be the douche who gives them nightmares for a week by leering in their face.'

So what, exactly, do the parents explain? What would I say to my grandkids if we didn't know this was going on and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Ah,... kids, this is just some big people having a bit of fun.  Just try to forget what you saw...put it out of your head so you don't have nightmares...?

I ask myself, what is this - an example of the human spirit's propensity for being drawn to the darkness that seeks to destroy them? A preoccupation with death as the ultimate experience, perhaps? Or is it to engage in an 'other-world experience'? Something out of the ordinary?

Maybe they're just trying to find a way to connect with the physical death that inevitably will come at some point for each of us.

For some reason, I'm drawn to things that are intrinsically beautiful and lovely. I'm also drawn to the power that exchanges ugliness for beauty. To experience this kind of power is the ultimate experience. No greater power exists than the power of Jesus, who lived to bring healing, joy, life and hope to those who needed it most. I'm counting on coming out of the grave, too...but not in the form of a zombie. I'm coming out with a glorious new form - pure, clean and glorious.


Today I went online to Bible Gateway to prepare for a women's group I meet with. I read an interview with Dr. Mark Batterson (https://www.biblegateway.com/blog/2014/09/god-still-performs-miracles-an-interview-with-mark-batterson/), about his book, The Grave Robber. 

 In his book, Dr. Batterson talks about the life that Jesus gave wherever he went; his power and miracles that are still in evidence today, if we have eyes to see them. He says, 'I offer an important warning at the beginning of the book: don’t seek miracles. Seek Jesus. And if you seek Jesus, you’ll eventually find yourself in the middle of some miracles. Why? Because that’s who Jesus is. That’s what Jesus does'

Now THIS is out of the ordinary in a BIG way! Zombie Walkers, try The Grave Robber on for size!

A Salute to Artists

Sally Mankus, Mixed Media

Many artists have been disparaged or dismissed outright by their families or friends - most likely because the practicality of 'doing' art is difficult. Making a living at it is at very least, risky. In addition to being held in dubious regard by those closest to them, artists will tell you about the self-doubt they struggle with, simply because of the subjectivity of their product. Are they good enough? What if their product doesn't sell? What if something technical goes wrong during the performance? What will the critics say? How will those who matter most, react?

No matter the source, rejection is a bitter pill to swallow. Indifference is no better.

A world without art is unimaginable. Art provides color in an otherwise black-and-white existence. An exquisite sculpture, a thought-provoking painting, a mixed-media piece that reminds us of our history, a book that we can't put down, a musical score that takes our breath away or an intriguing drama that stays with us for days.

As tasty, nourishing food is to the body, good art provides sustenance for the spirit. It exhilarates us, makes us think differently about the world, gives us hope, inspires us, serves to provide valuable introspection, connects us more deeply with God or neighbor, or simply entertains us, allowing us to 'get away' for a few moments or hours. Art can trouble us, stimulate us, and hopefully change us in some way for the better.

Is art essential? Absolutely. Interesting to think that we - especially in our Western bourgeoisie culture - most often favor practical, physical needs over our emotional, spiritual fulfillment. We are known to seize every opportunity to get ahead, working frantically to procure goods and services, forgetting that our spirits need to be fed - indeed, that by feeding them, we become refocused. We slow down, becoming deeper - ever moving towards wholeness.

It is my hope that artists will do their best to ignore the indifference or criticism they encounter for following their calling. May they continue to challenge our thinking, arouse our passions, entertain and delight us. May their goal always be to strive for excellence in their craft, to be bold enough to share their gifts with the world and to surround themselves with those who support them in their often uncertain environment. May they know that the Creator, who fashioned us in His image, has put within each of them their unique imagination for this very purpose.

“What can we say beyond Wow, in the presence of glorious art, in music so magnificent that it can't have originated solely on this side of things? Wonder takes our breath away, and makes room for new breath.” 
 (Ann Lamott, Help Thanks Wow: Three Essential Prayers)

What Constitutes Art?

A conversation with someone in the arts community got me thinking about our concept of art and how most people think about art. In this conversation, we were discussing various examples of creativity when the other person suggested that a garden constitutes art. I suppose I've often thought of art in the garden, but not as the garden being art.

Considering all the work that went into designing and implementing our garden and the time I regularly spend making decisions about which plants to move where - so that the result will be more pleasing to view and inhale - it makes perfect sense that the garden would be regarded as a piece of art.

When we refer to art, most people think of a painting, drawing or sculpture. Mention the arts, and music, drama, poetry and film come to mind. My own definition of art is 'something created - as an expression of an ideal or thought - that is not overtly practical.' That's my first go at it. I'm eager to see what Merriam-Webster's Dictionary says.

       art - the conscious use of skill and creative imagination esp. in the  production of aesthetic objects

We could argue that engaging in the practical  can indeed result in artful results. Cooking can be an art, as can decorating a room or designing and making a piece of furniture.

The person I had the aforementioned conversation with was David Vandas, Publisher and Senior Editor of WeMakeStuff (www.WeMakeStuff.ca).  A second volume of a coffee table book featuring 100 local artists is in the making, with a kickoff on September 14. The community of artists involved with WeMakeStuff support and encourage one other in a passion that is often misunderstood or not understood, especially by those who are not artists themselves. But more about artists in a future blog.

Sometimes art is created to make a statement. Sometimes it is created because of an idea that refused to lie dormant in the imagination. Many times art expresses beauty that resides around us or in us. Sometimes art is unpleasant to encounter, yet to encounter it is transformational.

Today, take a few moments to think about what you have created, and how you have been artful lately.  One of my routine art projects involves strolling around the garden, arranging something of beauty for my table. How about you?

Procrastination and Motivation

I know it sounds silly, but I dressed up this morning, just to sit at my desk and write.

Many a writer's life is plagued with procrastination. Taking a Creative Writing class at Regent, I listened as Maxine Hancock told us this would happen.  We'd do anything to avoid getting our butts in the chair and our fingers onto our pens or computers. I was skeptical then; now I know this to be more true than I would like to admit.

This morning I spent a few hours putting my unruly garden in its place. Deadheading perennials, edging runaway boundaries, pulling endless clover and misplaced grass. When I decided it was time to go inside and get ready for my writing day, I showered and decided to dress professionally, even though I was staying home.

I had just settled myself at my desk when a vehicle drove up - a friend popping by for a few minutes.  When I greeted her at the door, she asked if I was going out. She was puzzled by my 'casual business' attire, and wondered why I would dress this way at home. I supposed it must seem rather bizarre.  I've read Anne Lamott's descriptions of her sweat pants and T-shirt days, which must make business professional somewhat envious now and then. Once in awhile, though, I am motivated by 'getting ready' for work. Some days, dressing like a professional makes me feel like a professional (not to mention that a mid-calf jersey skirt is actually comfortable and good garden wear, should I move outside).

At the Write! Vancouver conference last weekend, we were all made to repeat, aloud, a number of times, "I am a writer". Even though I've been writing for years (I won a song lyrics contest in grade 7) and have been published over the last two, I still often don't consider myself to be one. The title 'Writer' seems so lofty and abstract somehow. Still, that's what I am.

So if you ever stop by on a weekday and I look a little over dressed for what I do, don't pay me any mind. I'm just trying to 'get in the groove'.

The Gift of Spring

I never cease to be amazed by the gentle unfolding of our West Coast spring season. Tiny crocuses bravely sport their bright yellow, magenta, white and even striped petals of paper-like delicateness, competing with the showy ornamental plum and cherry blossoms that leave no doubt in anyone's mind of spring's arrival. In my own back yard, the Star Magnolia brandishes pure white anemone blooms before the tree leafs out.

I've been out the past few days cleaning up last year's leftover oak leaves, pruning overgrown shrubs and dividing over-enthusiastic grasses. I lost a favorite shrub - Patty's Purple Hebe - over the winter, so I used that as an excuse (really, who needs one?) to visit my favorite nursery where I found a Daphne 'eternal fragrance'. Similar in size and color to Patty's Purple Hebe, it promises a crop of blooms lasting from early spring through to autumn.  I have a Winter Daphne now established, that's been blooming profusely throughout March and into this month. The fragrance of this shrub overtakes me every time I open the patio door or walk by. I picked a little twig and stuck it behind my ear to enjoy its scent for the day. I'm hoping the summer Daphne will produce a similar effect out front of the house, greeting visitors with its heady perfume.



I also purchased a Clematis Jackmannii to intertwine with my spring-blooming Clematis that's gotten a little messy, hence a clipping (even though it's not one that ought to be pruned back as it flowers in May - don't care, had to clean it up a bit). The Jackmannii will provide blossoms during the summer months, creeping up one side of the wooden archway and across to meet the climbing Lacecap Hydrangea from the other side. I'd been wanting to get a Jackmannii the last few years, just didn't get to it. Growing two different-season clematis together should keep the interest and color going until fall.

In the herb department, I bought some cilantro, which I love to eat, but have never had much luck growing. Either it wouldn't germinate, or it would grow tall and spindly, then go to seed. I'm going to plant it in a different location this time; a cooler spot in partial, not full, sun. We'll see how that works.

On the other hand, we ate fresh spinach just the other day...layered with a bechamel sauce, crab and sole, then baked. Very tasty! I still have some leftover kale in the garden from last year which I pick at.  I like it right off the plant - who needs a recipe? The spring chives are begging to be snipped into salads, scrambled eggs and potatoes.

I was so enthused at the garden center that I picked up several small plants (to add to my over-wintered geranium hanging basket) and brought them to the counter. Melanie (the helpful cashier) looked me in the eye and said, "You know these have to be inside for another month yet; you'll have to keep them indoors and water them.  You'll also have to pinch the tops to keep them full."

 "I guess I'm a little early, huh?" to which she replied. "I can put these back for you." What a nice lady!

Back at home, I planted the Clematis and the Daphne, and found a nice little spot for the cilantro. Not only is it therapeutic to dig around in the dirt, it's exhilarating to straighten up at the sound of eagles circling overhead or the cheerful chirping of tiny finches and sparrows as they flit from branch to branch.

When the weather is agreeable, gardening won't wait; everything else does.

God Speaks

There are those who don't believe that God still speaks to us today. I'm not talking about his voice coming to us through the text of scripture or through preachers on Sunday morning, although this is his primary way of speaking to us.  But there are times when God speaks to us either directly (that audible voice within us) or indirectly through another person.  I've experienced both.

In fact, last week I received a phone call from our pastor about a single mom who needed help - "she's very distressed at the moment - here's her cell number" - and was there something our deacons (I am one) could do to help her?  She had been evicted; all her belongings were sitting on the parking lot of her building. The bailiff was there, and the movers couldn't load up her things until she had a confirmed address for delivery. 

Our local social assistance office had checked out the local women's shelters, but there was no room. A few churches had been called, but nothing yet. The distraught woman lived in our community, only a few blocks from me, as it turned out.  I didn't know her, know of her, and frankly, I hoped someone else would step forward - in the next few minutes.

I called a few of my fellow deacons...no one was home at the time. Hmmm....what to do...

I called a friend from my church - a wise woman - who also happens to be involved in our Single Moms Ministry. Perhaps she would recognize the name, and assure me it was safe to enter into this situation. The name didn't ring a bell. I explained the situation, expressing my hesitation to get involved. One question uppermost in my mind - why was she being evicted? Maybe this woman is an addict, a drug dealer, or who knows what? (Ah, that warm, cozy comfort zone). My husband and I could possibly put her and her daughter up for a few nights - but that's all, since we're going away on the weekend.  I told my friend I was nervous about taking this on - to which she, in her gentle voice replied, "But that's what we're called to do, isn't it?"

God could not have spoken to me in a more distinct voice.  I heard him clearly.

I called the evicted woman, who was, understandably, in a state of panic. Within 15 minutes, we met at a local restaurant for coffee, where she told me her story. We discussed her immediate need. I knew of someone who might at least have room to store her belongings for a few weeks (the storage company wanted 3 months payment up front).

Within an hour of leaving the restaurant, we had not only found a place for her belongings to be stored, but had found a possible home for her and her daughter. The solution came through one of our church families who had both room for their things, and (unbeknownst to me) a furnished suite for rent - that they were willing to reduce the rate on. What a wonderful Divine orchestration of events! That afternoon, all was confirmed and mother and daughter moved in that evening.

She and her delightful daughter joined us for dinner, as we enjoyed lively conversation and their company before taking them to their new home (an affordable, furnished suite, no less).

Funny how we need reminding and encouragement to do the right thing. If there's one thing I've learned in following Christ, it's that obedience is the primary thing.  It's how the kingdom comes.

Restorative Justice

In the past few years, I've had opportunity to do a few articles on the topic of restorative justice.  This does not make me an expert, but has certainly provided me with much food for thought.

When our son was little, he stole a roll of candies from the corner store. When I asked him where he'd gotten the candy and he confessed, we talked about why stealing is wrong, and how we should correct this situation. Together we walked back to the store, where he faced the store owner, admitted what he had done, and apologized. I don't think he ever stole anything again (at least not to my knowledge). This is a very simple example of restorative justice.

A website dedicated to restorative justice, defines it as a theory of justice that emphasizes repairing the harm caused or revealed by criminal behavior. It is best accomplished through cooperative processes that include all stakeholders. 

It is in our human nature to seek retribution when we or our loved ones are violated in some way. Our whole sense of what's fair in a situation comes into play. We want the offender to pay for their deeds. It is difficult to think otherwise when we have lost something or someone through crime.

I am not excusing criminal behavior or consequences for crimes committed. I believe that justice includes accountability for the offender. The question is, what is appropriate? Is there more than just a sentence that needs to be served? How can healing take place? After all, that should be the goal, should it not?  Healing for the offended - and, dare I suggest it? - for the offender.

As the name suggests, restoration is the premise of the restorative justice process.  It's easy for victims of violence to become entrenched in a cycle of hatred, revenge and a victim mentality, a cycle non-conducive to healing. The cycle, while understandable, begets further hatred and possible violence. Some kind of intervention is helpful in ending the cycle.

Restorative justice, where both victim and offender are willing, brings both parties together. It allows the offender to offer sincere regret for what they've done, to acknowledge their part in altering the lives of the offended, and to take responsibility for their actions. The victims or their families are given the opportunity to hear and acknowledge the apology - to know there is some regret on the part of the offender.

Confession provides healing, even if punishment is still due. It's a relief to confess what has been festering inside our souls. Hearing someone confess to us can also provide opportunity for mercy to make an appearance. Apologies do not remove effects of a crime. Mercy or forgiveness does not preclude a sentence fitting the crime. It does ease the heart of both parties to some degree. It can help to end the cycle of hatred and violence.

RJ is not a quick fix. Working through loss towards mercy or through guilt towards freedom can take a lifetime. We have heard the saying 'an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.'  But now, have been shown a better way.

Paying Attention in the New Year

Another year passed, a new one begun - Happy New Year!  May 2014 be a year in which truth, peace and love are evident in our own lives, and also globally.

I went for a long walk this morning, and (no surprise) noticed many people out walking or running.  This is the day when we turn over a new leaf, set our goals for another year.  The calendar has turned to a page that is fresh and white, with a new number - 2014. Could this be the year our dreams become reality? The possibilities are endless. The old is gone, the new is here - we get to re-draw the picture, or re-write the script.  It's an opportunity too good to miss. 

It feels good to have another chance, doesn't it?  As a kid, I remember - every September - entering a new classroom, getting new notebooks, and writing beautifully in those clean, perfect notebooks for at least the first week. But then the assignments piled up, I started to hurry, and got careless.  Pretty soon, my writing was looking messy (no wonder we called our notebooks 'scribblers').  And every September I'd try again.  I never gave up.

Looking back through several  journal entries, I notice that each year, the goals I come up with are often very similar to what I resolved in previous years.  Maybe this is because I never really 'arrive'.  Most times, my determination holds strong for a few months, until I (ever so slowly) slide back into old familiar habits.  I start to eat the wrong foods, I neglect to set specific time aside for my spiritual growth, I grow weary of searching out publishers for my work.

It's likely that I'm not alone in this.  If everyone met their goals, being granted new opportunities in a new year wouldn't be nearly as appealing. There would be no talk of New Years' resolutions. If we accomplished our goals, we wouldn't need that fresh calendar page to give us hope.  We'd simply carry on from one success to the next.  But our personalities, formative influences and circumstances often hamper our ability to be persistent and consistent.

What comforts me in all of this is that I don't need a new year to begin again.  Every day affords a fresh start; God gives me that opportunity with each new sunrise.

But this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. (Lam 3:21-23)

God's mercies are there to pick me up, and they're never ending. How amazing is that? No matter how many times I'm stuck in my failure, He urges me to acknowledge my weakness, submit it to Him, and move on with renewed hope in His faithfulness. 

The other thing that comforts me is that I've got Someone in my corner - not just passively watching, but leading me forward, providing all I need. If I'm paying attention, I'll notice that the path is laid out for me.  The canvas and the page have been well prepared.

I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. (Isaiah 43:19)

A new thing - the desert's gonna bloom!  Forgetting the past, leaving my failures behind, I have new hope, knowing I'm loved for who I am, and that my dreams are valued.  So I resolve to pay attention; I'm eager to perceive the newness that's ready to spring forth!  How about you?