The Latest…

It was a pleasure to work with Faith Today to see this short piece come to fruition, enjoy!

https://www.faithtoday.ca/Magazines/2024-Mar-Apr/Learning-from-Jesus-and-the-woman-at-the-well

The Service I was reflecting on:

That’s NOT Normal

That is NOT Normal

“I’m going to have to ask you, Ty to take Leland out, he is to distract for me to preach” after a visceral head snap back and flash of anger at my child’s joy during a Santa Clause service at a spiritual centre. This is just one of many types of inhospitable spaces of the Holy that Thomas E. Reynolds (2008) in his practical, personal and theological work, Vulnerable Communion: A Theology of Disability and Hospitality would have explored as he too is a Dad with a child with exceptionalities, differently abled (my son’s term is super powers) or as we know them at a cultural level whether visible or invisible as disabilities (though in Alberta at least, there are still some Canadians that use the atrocious “r” word slur or short bus jokes, and yes these can be in the church). Other examples pop to mind of folks in churches articulating sounds being distracting, or that “children like that do not belong here” to scapegoating disruption or bullying from wealthier families to the children with exceptionalities (these examples came back to mind as I read Reynolds).  Reynolds at this point is an entryway, especially for those who have not slowed to contemplate, for those engaged in the theological work whether consciously or unconsciously due to intersections with community, it is reflective.  Reflective on the concept of the myth of normal, how this book may aid a spiritual community, understanding of Imageo Dei and intersections of the journey of ableism. Can there be reconciliation in these communities or others, after the truths shared?  For, the cornerstone in the church that allows this truth to exist is simply the fact the child or adult it is directed as is not normal.

The Myth of Normal

What is normal?  This is at the root of ableism and eugenics. Essentially, it is whatever the majority or the wealthy of a society stipulate is the benchmark for normal.  Yes, there are tests that show whether or not an infant or child is thriving or not that aid in diagnosis. Historically this diagnosis would lead to segregation and isolation within institutions, horrific trials and tribulations, perhaps unmitigated electroshock therapy, neglect/abuse, harsh psychotherapeutics to catatonia, forced sterilizations to name a few.  As time progressed, there is the shift to community living and supports, integration supposedly into community life. Government entitlements if they can prove themselves worthy, supports for families or the adult caregivers if the parents surrender into care for not being able to care from early intervention through to adulthood.  Some are covered, most for extra care and staff are designed in Alberta for the parents to pay out first and then await the reimbursement. An assumption that only wealthy can embrace the beautiful diversity of the Imageo Dei.

The diagnosis whether historically or currently are used to separate. It can be into blessed communities that embrace the diversity, but the support staff when grieving are not given supports other schools would be given. Using the idiom, it’s part of the job get back to work. For the children, the catchphrase they don’t understand, they are not cognitive (removing the concept of emotion, connection and belonging from the child because they do not fulfill a “normal” benchmark for cognition or interaction). Grief is universal, but we do not want to understand how to aid our vulnerable to grieve.

Even think of how we introduce folks, we focus on the deficit. This is how you can help them or explaining what to expect behaviour wise from their diagnosis.  At any point in the introduction did we get to know them? What is their passion? Their purpose? Who they actually are?  It is one of the ways diagnosis or labels can be detrimental instead of being used to set up space for accessibility and inclusion for the highest need for access we use it to move a person from personhood to medical jargon, which makes othering easier.

Makes as, Reynolds (2008) shares in his book, they are not normal, so we do not need to see them as neighbour.  Anyone who has a disability or is a loved one of a person with a disability knows how this happens in society, and sadly, if we attempt to engage in church many times we are met with overt or covert ableism. The implicit or explicit bias, depending on the person and their position or giving in the church it is either challenged or accepted. For we have a concept of normal, it is a myth.

Imageo Dei

Normalcy is a myth, there is the old chestnut or dad joke, what is normal? That is precisely the answer and should be the Christian response with our theological understanding of the created image of God. I have spoken and written on this topic immensely over the lifespan of my ministries, taken time to cultivate spaces of welcome for all abilities. Suffered the slings and arrows for a colloquialism for it, and yes in one associate role, was voted into non-existence at an Annual General Meeting I was in attendance in of a progressive congregation for having members in the children and youth ministries on the Autism Spectrum and Cerebral Palsy. Was it ableism because of the diagnosis? Or ableism because of the church having 3 floors and not wanting the cost of the lift? Which bias or stereotype was driving the soft excommunication of the disabled?

A missing piece of understanding the incarnation of Jesus of Nazareth, who took on the outcast story. Who pushed back, challenged, and began the steps of healing of the socio-cultural (justice issues really) of exclusion for those that missed the truth of poetry in the Hebrew Bible (I have taken to use this term for the Old Testament, after reading Sir Rabbi Jeffrey Sacks, that pointed out the term “Old Testament” was an act of Anti-Semitism), from Genesis 1:26-28 (New Revised Standard Version, Updated Edition, 2024):

²⁶ Then God said, “Let us make humans^[c] in our image, according to our likeness, and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over the cattle and over all the wild animals of the earth^[d] and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.”

²⁷ So God created humans^[e] in his image,
    in the image of God he created them;^[f]
    male and female he created them.

²⁸ God blessed them,

We are made in the Creator’s image. There was no qualifiers within the poetry. No differentiation or hierarchy. This is an understanding I was already engaging Reynolds’ with, some would not have as the journey and theological premises behind building this concept is quite clear as a shared experience of writer, teacher and Dad, I know where Reynolds’ was coming from, and his use of Jean Vanier’s theology, founder of L’Arche (and yes an abuser), also inspired one of the more known individuals who wrote of experience in disability community, Henri Nouwen.

For all four (I include myself here), and hopefully many others, the truth of the Imageo Dei, is one cannot fully understand or live this teaching without fully understanding all humanity is that image. Which ties back to the concept of introduction, and that those with disabilities are not here for us to serve, for us to teach or pity or… the list can go on.

They are here as part of the image. Like all parts of the image, that the Shema (known in the Christian Testament as the Great Commandments) speaks to love of God with our everything that is interconnected, and interdependent (not the story of life with Creator does not speak of individualism) to be able to love self and neighbour. This type of love is what my practical theology of belonging, one may say disability is built upon. We exist to be with one another, to aid one another in thriving, to create the just society that allows for these conditions understanding science, politics, arts, humanities, trades, etc. that give meaning and purpose, are all tools in our toolbox or toys in our toybox to create thriving creative and loving communities.

That is, if we can get out of our own way to allow the hope of the Holy to flow and wash away the myth of normalcy, to see the beautiful mosaic of the image of God.

Intersections with Ableism or can I belong here?

The Belonging Pyramid is an inverted pyramid precariously held up on the love from the Greatest Commandment lived out in an healthy interdependent community. The top of the pyramid is the easiest thing churches can do, but some fail. Accessibility, can one legitimately get into the building and access the spaces of the building? This is building code, there is bonus points if the access offers dignity to the image of God. There is also bonus points if the language is accessible, do we allow for pictures or other communication assist devices? Do we explain pieces of the rituals happening and why so folks who are new or different neurology’s can follow? Or do we lean into, this is the way it is an folks who know know, like a secret society? Do we point to lack of money for needed renovations without exploring grants or other fundraising concepts or partnerships? Do we plan for Universal Design for both spiritual formation (learning) and building?

The next piece leans into Universal Design, as it speaks to inclusion. Now that we are in the space, is there a space for us? A seat or a space for our ability assistance device we use (not usage not bound, it isn’t a form of bondage, I am not bonded to my legs, they move me, so do walkers, canes and wheelchairs) or do we use the idea of fire code and treat the user as furniture? Imagine that stigmatization, do we do the same thing with a slower moving or larger person who may be at an end of a row?

If we pass the row of inclusion, the precarious tip of the pyramid rooted in the heart of the threefold love of the Great Commandments, is belonging.  Belonging is hard. Belonging is knowing one beyond socioeconomics, socio-culture, diagnosis, and other labels of society. Belonging is knowing one by name, knowing who we can share and be supported by, knowing who we support, who we live life with the joys and sorrows, and moments of uncontrolled giggles for no reason, belonging is when we miss a moment or event or appointment someone cares, notices and reaches out. Belonging is the greatest risk, because there could be a day when do to moving, life circumstance or succumbing to a chronic condition or pandemic or epidemic or MAiD (in Alberta accessed after chronic conditions with the co-occurrence of loneliness or poverty or both), the space where the person usually is—empty. Belonging is knowing one day you will grieve in change and be grieving loss.

How can this book be used?

Reynolds’ work is a good entry point for congregations that have never pondered. Congregations that have yet to engage with the aging community, or with, in Alberta as we have known for over two decades by this time in history 1 in 6 children will be born with or acquire an exceptionality in their early years. It opens the conversation, and the challenges with the right guide so that biases can be challenged, and hopefully changed for healthier communities.

For the myth of normal can be eliminated. Would it change outcomes of ex-communication or ostracism as has been touched upon in the personal journey here? In some instances, it could, there could have been a work through point, up to a point. But then the challenge of the sacred building stands and whether or not to continue to accessibility, inclusion and belonging the hardest discussion of the change to the “home of God” or “our church” conflated with the real estate would happen. Essentially has the forced, yet more subtle ostracisms/ex-communication is just delayed until the individual can no longer participate.

Reference

New Revised Standard Version, Updated Edition. (2024) ESV Online.

https://www.biblegateway.com

Reynolds, Thomas E. (2008). Vulnerable Communion: A Theology of Disability and Hospitality.

Brazos Press.

https://www.indigo.ca/en-ca/vulnerable-communion-a-theology-of-disability-and-hospitality/9781587431777.html?searchType=products&searchTerm=vulnerable%20communion

Release

If it was 2023

with how disjointed family is,

I ponder if he would have still existed in our spheres.

If he would have been able to be there

if it would’ve happened

a kept secret of a tormented soul

A long history

shaped by a long family history of patriarchy and predators that shaped a young soul on what broken and violence love should never be.

some say a Jekyll and Hyde personality

that finally burned out?

the struggle with internal and what some thought eternal demons

harm done from being prey to predator to husband

liquors hold ceased

how different would the story have been

if not for the mind experiments on a broken soul at McGill

under the Government’s “ethical” guide?

As I ponder the cruching loss of life on the street’s today

He entered my thoughts,

one of the first accelerated healings,

and the words also echo about was there no good in the pain?

And the release came in the season of Christmas

the story was re-written for healing and function

but the burden had still rested

a burden I will no longer carry

May the purgatory as you entered heaven

finally bring your tortured soul piece,

Grandpa.

One Less Connection

It’s funny how grief can sneak up on one so inocculusly. Not expecting it today with a usual Christmas Tradition, my Nan was a war bride, so Christmas Day always had a piece of watching the Queen’s Christmas Message with Mum and Nan. Even though its been 10 and 11 years respectively since they went to the Great Tea Party, it was always a way to maintain a connection. A five to ten minutes of Christmas with them even without having to notice it. Just a rest into it.

And yes I realize last year Queen Elizabeth had already passed, and it was King Charles III’s first message but there was a bit more going on trying to rebound my son’s Christmas joy that I literally went through the motions, and cracked the joke about him not being like his Mum, and that Nan and Mum would have been shocked he was the actual monarch.

But then this year, it was nothing about the message, in fact I loved the translation to British Sign Language:

Yet , even though in our polarized (dualistic) times it was the message that needed to be heard.

It was the moment as it ended and I sat there, and realized what was missing, was that it no longer held that connection as I had before with my Mum and Nan, a Christmas where there presence is seen in the awesome hearts of their great grandchildren and grand children in my home but just realized that with the King, as with many things throughout this journey, now has come to the realization one less tangible connection is there.

For those who journey with those in the grieving, we tend to acknowledge up to the funeral/celebration of life. Perhaps the first major holiday without them, but there ebbs and flows, of things that tangibly change, and if you have ever done the work, you know your calendar always has the person’s personal anniversaries highlighted.

And the encouragement, that at any time, one can reconnect by simply conversing.

30 years? Really?

I will admit, I have netered that time of life where things do not seem to be as far away as they are in our form of linear time (anyway catch the DS9 reference?). Anyways, it was a few months late, but I found the 30th anniversary special on the Death of Superman.

Remember this leading up to Nov. 18, 1992:

It was the first story to hit the mainstream media and draw in new readers, how did it come about? Well, Lois & Clark: New Adventures of Superman was doing well ratings wise, and in the show and comics Clark and Lois were engaged only the show wasn’t ready for the wedding so the big 1992 story had to shift (remember the triangle numbering?). And as legend goes at the creators summit, one smart ass (whose name fails me now), made the same joke he always makes about new story ideas “Let’s kill him” only this time it made the board.

And so the trilogy began.

Superman died.

There was a Funeral for a Friend.

Then a span of time with now Super titles.

Then 4 newbies (Steel, Superboy-who have between the panel stories in the special, Eradicator and Cyborg Superman)

A destruction of Coast City, A cyborg villain Superman.

And the return of the OG to save the day.

A few crisis and reboots since then, Clark and Lois have a son, Jon.

DC never ret conned the death arc (hey Doomsday is a cool character, and beating death is epic Superman).

Yet this goes beyond one bad day.

And two parents, I mean if you are a parent there are pieces of your story or family story you keep putting off or never share or put into the concept of when the child is old enough or the time is right we will share it.

Only the opening of the story is Jon in school, and the honouring of the anniversary of the death of his Dad… a story that was never told to him.

There is a fun adventure of a new spawning of Doomsday/possession and can Doomsday be stopped/healed withour Dad’s death?

But really as you dive into the pages (no I won’t spoil the ending), but I do encourage you to take time to read it, and enter into it through the eyes of Jon. Was there ever a family secret you tripped over? Or someone else revealed to you (whose story wasn’t there’s to tell?).

And also, has it really been 30 years since 1992? It doesn’t seem that far away.

RIP Queen Elizabeth II

Growing up my Nan always joked that she had blue blood (yes I realize blood is blue before oxygenated in air), but it was an allusion to her being royalty. She was a war bride, and we did engage in culture from England. Part of that was having the monarchy as part of who we were. We would see different events on television, watch different messages. Understood the flags, and different songs. Even though I was not a regular church attender, got that the Queen was head of the Church of England (joking with my Catholic Friends, Anglican guilt was like theres but came with a British accent).

Regular readers, will know that my family has had a tradition to listen to the Queen’s Message on Christmas Day. Before streaming, it would be at noon Calgary time on CBC or another local channel, and we would stop what was happening and watch the television. In the past 10 or so years, we have been able to watch it live on line, and then on the Royals’ channel but it has still been a part of the day’s journey.

I remember family discussions of who would be the next in line, due to tradition and laws around divorce.

My youngest, would have a ball with her Great Granny (my Nan); when we would go to church or visit, as before tea time, she would take time together to get “ready” as the Royals.

Since 2012/13 my kids lost two of their matriachs, with my Nan (Great Granny) and Mum (Nanna)’s passings, the message was a way to continue to connect.

Now we are on the day, when the message goes silent, it is a weird void. Yes I realize it would not go on forever, but let’s be honest, at 96 years old and still doing duties 48 hours ago, how many ever thought it wouldn’t?

I chuckle though, as I think of the metaphor my family uses for the next life. Our kids started losing people far to young, and it became the story of the Grand Tea Party with Jesus. And then I smile, at my Nan’s analogy of being a blue blood, and think that Grand Tea Party just got a bit more festive, and after all this time she would finally have her tea party with the Queen.

An After 23 Days Psalm for my boi

A blessing of love at Countess for the youngest,

on the day you would not awake

and the 23 day journey to come…

The fear since you stated “No more owies”

cascading through as I lifted you to the van

Was this the time?

The unwanted walk for those left behind?

Were you sipping tea at the Grand Tea Party with those that had gone before?

Unanswered questions

Prayers that fell on a deities deaf ears

As Trauma hits in the hospital

the offense of the soul is more than simply my son in distress and wondering if he will survive?

Is it Metis or Disabled on your file?

That causes the berating of questions?

Are you inbred?

Did he get into your drugs?

No, We’re a sober house.

Oh so he got into your Fentanyl.

No, ya dumb ass what do you not understand about S-O-B-E-R

Questions of the past

that no longer matter

yet they fumble about a file in the room with you

I know the revisti of pain upon you

even if they think you are not able to hear or understand

as rescue drug

after rescue drug is administered

Is it simply epilepsy?

Is it more?

Those moments you spoke of being tired of loss

Have you simply said you will not open your eyes?

In PiCU looking like a Borg…

they try to say it is stabilized base line

For they only know the you here and in the file,

not the you the world loves and loves the world,

Your Mumma shows video

of your loving curious self to prove them wrong

They see you as a person

The darkness yet to come,

not fully yet foreshadowed as they would lose the plot

of you as the super hero of this tale

Three research studies in and yet you will not wake up

BPAP comes off

You struggle to breathe on your own

an oxygen line

Sepsis

and mystery

as we move (4 days in) to a unit

bacterial pnuemonia

You still won’t awaken

Another round of push back to unit staff

about going home

As you are at baseline

NG Tube as you show some alertness

Two Student doctors

who do not see the person

push

crisis

as the feed tube comes out

nourishment

how you got your medications

refusal to do what needs to re-insert

the clock is ticking

4 attempts

14 hours

no go

they finally hear

when asked, if they do not see you as a person

because you are disabled or a metis

They saw it as hostile

I saw my boi in pain

caused by those who were to heal

4 more attempts with x-ray

clock ticking

22 hours

still nothing

new doctor

as I sit vigil

to try to ensure you do not slip away due to SUDEP

asks what can be done

A useless question

A happenstance

of a fill in the next day

Tries to say the staff sees you as a person

Shocked by the word bullocks state only actions matter now

And at hour 40 you got into radiology, live imaging, tube back in…

meds…nourishment

another lie revealed,

physio never contacted…

an order finally put in

and within hours in to see you.

The regular team tries to brush off as a minor hiccup,

only a few hours,

Another time of push back,

revealed a star pupil was the cause

could this be why the cover up?

Research study #4

on racism int he system

too many scared to speak out, my gut says simply, for fear of further lack of care

So many fun nurses and doctors

engage

laugh,

learn who you are

as you are heard, we are heard

they slow down

your system in healing, catches up

and your own super powers kick in

from bed to sitting to a walker

to walking from gym to room

to me seeing the twinkle on day 2 of this

you giggle, “gotta say hi”

and your greeters soul

walks the unit greeting staff and neighbours

No tubes

from purees to soft foods to beloved foods

Not fully at baseline

but more you than you have been for awhile

is it time to go home?

As dinner time approaches

Day 23

we enter rush hour…

home…

*The vast majority of staff we encountered on this journey saw my son as a person, and were negaged in his healing, the unfortunate piece is the few that were not, caused the largest traumas and set backs because the rest of the team would not speak up or out against them.

Irrelevant?

It can be hard not to feel that way, when you look back on a life of attempting to create belonging. Doomscroll where we are at this societal crossroads today closer to Imperial Star Wars than Star Trek Federation and wonder if, you are not simply irrelevant? These thoughts have been cascading for a while in my mind, it can be hard not to as I battle the great fear of my life as Dad, outliving my child (in the case of both my kiddoes) or my son outliving me (and leaving someone not seen as person, in the care of the system that holds this to be true).

These ideas came stronger, after seeing a simple tweet this morning, something akin to Gen X’ers aren’t okay, as all that we fought against, and created a better forward, has been ripped away with worse returning. It is true, we at a whiney minority vocally level are letting the bullies shape the world. That which we were always taught to stand up to, push back into the beneath the rocks where they existed and were dying under, now allowed back out into the sun, and like the worst garden choking weeds are thriving in the rain pain of the world.

How can a world of belonging be created? Is it still possible?

I have to say yes, not just because I am an eternal optimist, but I was also raised with a firm belief that evil does not win in the end.

Yes I am exhausted. Yes I am tired in a world, where we have to tirelessly advocate for my children to be seen as people, where we continue to exist in the tension of life expectancy for my son. Where systems fail to support staff, and as such, as we explain reality, well damn it, at this moment and time corporation or government I do not feel like being your staff’s counsellor or pastor as they process the reality of my son’s lifespan.

But I digress, for I also worry, looking back at a time in my life of about 2 year where I wrote op-ed pieces for a local paper. Where I spoke out in support for Angels in America, LGBTQ Rights, and marriage equality (that last one almost cost me my life) in the mid-1990’s. Fast forward to 2022, and once again, I worry of the violence or death that may be visited upon my youngest and their friends.

We live in a world where The Orville: New Horizons Seasons 3 episode 5 “Tale of Two Topa’s” should be seen as timely or necessary, but especially for extremists and church, take view, and know, in the world of Klydon and Bortus as parents, be a Bortus. The closing image one of the most powerful of belonging on screen:

See Topa is a Mochlan child, who wants to join the union when he is old enough, yet he knows something is not right. If you have viewed previous season episodes around Bortus and Klydon’s child you know. See Mochlan’s are all male. Or are they? Topa was born female, and underwent a gender reassignment surgery to bring him in line with other Mochlan’s. Even after another female Mochlan would testify it was unnecessary. It never sat fully with Bortus, but for Klydon a true believer (and himself, a surgically altered female shortly after birth) a necessity.

A Tale of Two Topa’s is a story of truth, reconciliation, and being who you were created to be. It also shows how fear and hatred can shatter connection, as Klydon walks away from his child “I wish you were never born”…but the Orville Family, as seen in the image, calls Topa to the bridge, for her to belong.

If you fear authenticity in the image of God, why?

It is a powerful episode, and raises some hope that stories of power can still be told, though like, Deep Space Nine episodes seeming current and timely in the social justice issues they confront, it does become exhausitng. Though as watching, there was another aha moment that clicked for me.

So often when we have pilgrimaged/journeyed to other spiritual centres, some would chastise us, that we should not be leaving when they are not accepting due to this or that of one of our family members. We should stay and fight, for how will change happen? Simple, our spiritual centres are a space for connection, belonging, and renewal. I have no issue educating or equipping, but I am not there to fight, there is sapce for us and we will be there and present. If we are not wanted, that is fine, at some point the segregation, isolation, fear and hate, will runs its course within certain spiritual centres, and they will close (and yes we have outlived a few).

The other show that hit hard this week, was the latest Star Trek Strange New Worlds, and it was around Hemmer, the Aener engineer:

The Magic of Science “Abrakadabra”

Reading an interview with Canadian Actor, Bruce Horak, who plays Hemmer, about the character’s sacrifice in episode 9 (a well plotted horror inspired episode with the Gorn). Where infested his only choice was to end his life, that his character was created for a specific purpose. Hemmer, noted his purpose in the series when talking with Cadet Uhura “I fix broken things”. A foreshadowing statement, for a character created as a mentor for Cadet Uhura on their journey to open up to connection and belonging.

Which, in your own vocational and life formation, opens up two questions for you:

1. What is your life purpose?
2. Who are the mentors that helpded you in discovering and entering this purpose?

This has been a rough week or two journey for me. Where the word irrelevant has preyed upon my heart. Making me wonder if it was worthwhile, if I could still do something valid. Especially as it appears that our world is darker than it should be as anger and hate push for control and power.

“Your employers actions will show how they value you, more than their words”

Yet,

in these moments, a question from so long ago, on a night shift in a Calgary shelter, as I spoke with a guest rings in my soul:

“How do I ger hope?”

Hope.

A simple four letter word.

Can we regain it? Where do you feel it?

Can we emerge into the light? And see one’s simple intrinsic value in the beautiful diverse mosaic that we are created in the image of? Are we, even more powerfully, able to look in the mirror, and see that in ourselves?

“I wonder if Alberta Separatists wishing your Happy Canada Day, hear the hypocrisy?”

Unwanted Walk 2

Speak to freely

of wanting to be with your loved ones and buddies at the grand tea party on the other side

The struggle within that you try to share outwards

falls on many as non-verbal

for those who know and love

hear what you share and say

no more invasive pain for a little bit of change

no more owies

Your light dims, like under a bushel,

want to laugh and love

our little miracle

that machines said all those years ago

game over,

and you laughed into the void

and the Holy smiled

and the machines said life goes on

the experts stumped

what is usual

becomes the living Holy Mystery

the joy bringer

the love spreader

the one that shatters the concrete barriers

as some shared

in their cards of stories of you

As the mid-journey begins

how much time?

For that time so long ago, when Great Granny had such joy to have her great-grandbabies in church, she spent time so you could sing proud of the love you brought, and Jesus had for you.

Echoes in my soul,

as you ask

for Daddy to be the pastor

for your tea party time

and I shatter

can I be with you

at this time

as those that are to respond

see nothing wrong

when you are emotionally blue

mentally blue

physically blue

go home,

it’s safer

for a world under pandemic

you hear resoundingly from around you

are not a valid life

my joy

my light

my son,

do not go,

linger longer

laugh more

cheer more

Hockey!

play more,

For a day from 43

can I not cry into the unknown

Holistically-physically-neurologically which stroy is true?

A teenager? A middler? A senior?

How much time?

For the fun moments

Like your Ozzy sing-alongs

Mouth trumpets

high fives

hugs

As you continue to ponder joining the Great Tea Party—–

Stay a while longer

To continue to change the world

For how does a Daddy answer that which you ask?

I love you…stay while and continue the party here…

Let your light shine…

Been a blessed road…

Many moons ago, with a Rosary in my weary end of night shift hand in the sanctuary of a Roman Catholic church awaiting the weekday Mass, the still small voice would whisper to me “build my church”, it was an echo sentiment from years before, in a United Church, where I cam back to church as adult with my Nan, after presiding over the Sunday Service, and greeting faith family afterwards, the still small voice would simply say, “you are called”… To scant months before in my first service, where after singing in pre-sing my Granddad’s favourite hymn, the voice, his voice, would simply say “it’ll be alright”, Each of these instances are a piece of book one of three for my life. The book of laying the foudnations and preparing. Experiencing what it means to build the church. That is simply, to create the courageous safe space of connection, purpose and belonging for the beautiful mosaic that is our neighbourhood (the Imageo Dei)…

So many bumps along the road. Stories. Pieces of knowledge, ancient wisdom applied to the modern world, and modern wisdom working on the souls of many. Truly striving and stumbling to live out what home is, and having the true open door that I have been told has blessed many. But at my core, I am a simple story teller. That is the core of my parallel multi-career paths, and the core of the calling as book two opens…for what is the core of blessed community but the story of love and hope at its centre?

It is stories that have shaped my life, and still do. Many look at me weirdly in the academic, political and spiritual circles I exist in for the resonance I have to so many of our modern legends and mythologies. Not only the resonance, but how effectively they can be used as points of connection, intersection and discussion… so many ways to meet and understand neighbour. Whether it is the modern super hero stories (I am sure many know of the reflections shared around Spider-Man, X-Men, Batman, Superman, Flash, the list goes on and on) our modern pantheon of gods and demi-gods as found in anceint folklore and mythologies (which I also love). Or the more recent addition of Doctor Who? The Doctor an amazing story of constant curiousity, inspired problem solving, fun and, yes, new life (ah regeneration, since I went through my own health issues, and now into c-tine, it does so feel like a moment of regeneration?). To the inquisitive nature of Sherlock Holmes, the mysteries solved, and the importance of the right partners.

The Arthurian Legends, stories I so wanted to read as a child, and a system said I could not comprehend, and a Dad that said yes he can…and well, the copy of that hardcover from Smithbooks still resides on my bookshelf, never tell a child they can’t when an interest is shown. The wonder, magic and splendour of Camelot. The idea of quest, blessing, calling, and the connection/belonging of the Round Table. To the first movie I ever saw in theatres, Walt Disney’s Robin Hood, and the core truth that all have value, and every role in society is needed for us to be healthy, how easily power can corrupt (and I have seen it happen to far too many good people) for when power becomes the goal like with Prince John– well, the fact it is actually people involved is forgotten for the pursuit of gold (or is it oil?). When a season of life ended, I hope my team at that time understand the blessing of sharing that story book with each of them.

But a core story that has stayed with me throughout my life. From when there was the one night of the week as repeats aired on CBC, Star Trek. A true reflection for me, of what Brother Jesus taught our world was meant to be. Our universe, where all have equity, justice, equality, hope, can pursue who they are meant to be and we affirm the ideal you they are currently and are becoming. Where we aid others. Each of its iterations has brought a new era of story and contemplations into my life. From the Next Generation to Deep Space Nine to Voyager to Enterprise to (Kelvin) Star Trek movies to Discovery to Lower Decks to Picard…each piece introducing new characters, new allegories to our reality now and where we can be, what we can aspire to.

The re-connection to the stories, happened sharply over the last several years as I started to build myself back. As we unearthed, and healed the darkness, smudge and trauma that almost, yes, took my life, though it took me off of one path and opened up an epilogue/prologue upon a new path. A new story. My loving wife and kiddos that have journeyed through much, and we know eyes wide open what has been in all its diverse sorrows to joys, to what we know can be in a hope seen and soon to be lived.

See, for me, as I reflect back on the journey, the long road of getting here. Some may look at the hiccups, the setbacks, the loss, and say, why bother? Or didn’t so and so ruin your life…No they did not. I still remember the day in the early part of my PNES where a congregational cycle of prayer had my son make that statement as I had stepped away a few times from church based ministry to protect him from their heresy & ableism, as with other members of my family at other moments. For me it is about living love, and it is truly about discerning if there is authentic misunderstanding, or simply a desire for a quick apology so one’s own hates are not revealed on the altar for all to see.

But I digress, see there is an understanding that it is not a pollyanic view, especially in our polarized world where many akin the word Christian or Pastor to some device of hatred and exclusion. Or like in Star Trek V when they finally gound “god” and it was revealed to be nothing more than a monster in godcloaking:

Yet, here we are, a long road, some wear and tear, great learnings, lovings, and discoveries.

As was revealed earlier in the movie with the discussion of pain, and the need for the pain to emerge into who we truly are. So it is with each aspect of our life, all the ups and downs, sorrows and joys, losses and wins…they have shaped us…to be with others. To hear the authentic quite voice once more on this journey, one that others have heard.

“it is time to answer hope’s call”

Taking a risk, at this stage of the emegent chapter one of book two, prepared and now stepping in to the uknown. Accepted back to seminary as a student to complete my Master of Divinity. Awaiting the links to open up to apply for funding. To grow my skills, for my writing, community building, and to step back into ministry within the church. And maybe, perhaps, once settled to finish the journey that started with my Psy.D. to finally get my Doctor of Ministry.

To once more, be a pastor.

To aid others in being authentic communities of hope.

To discover honestly, what the quiet voice of the Holy Spirit is whispering to each of us to live out and transform our world for the better.

And yeah, it is one of the scariest steps in my life I have taken.

But also fills me with simply being

content.