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…

May we discover Joy in the Pause (R.I.P. Archbishop Desmond Tutu)

Have you ever heard to spiritual elders laugh and now what joy sounds likes? When I would listen to interviews of watch the videos of Archbishop Desmond Tutu & the Dalai Lama, this sound would ring with joy. Two men, trying to speak hope in the world, in very Franciscan ways of living before speaking. In my early days returning to the church, Tutu’s works, began to shape my emergent theolgoy (Along with Talbot, JP II & Spong). Working in a book store, I came across and devoured his two books emerging out of the TRC at the end of Apartheid in South Africa, God has a Dream (2003) and No Future without Forgiveness (2000). He spoke of hope, he spoke truth, and showed that the Christian sacremant of reconciliation was not something of words spoken between cleric and parishner in a tea room or a closet, but rather something that light shines into the truth to confuse the darkness and become action steps for transfiguration of society in hope.

His other books on forgiveness, hope, inclusion, belonging, children stories, powerful prayer, rebuilding, enewal ( a fuller listing of his works on Good Reads). I mean, think of being called to the highest office within your church, at a time you could not actually go to the Cathedral, because the nation, where your church exists, does not see you as a full person with full rights? Apartheid South Africa. His wonderful children’s story analogies around noses I would use in my multi-cultural ministry settings to break the unspoken prejudices that existed within generations, but also to teach about God’s belonging and beautiful Imageo Dei.

https://www.bing.com/videos/search?view=detail&mid=079B670EE9EE2CB59A57079B670EE9EE2CB59A57&q=desmond tutu&shtp=GetUrl&shid=f290cb35-7c55-4884-9ba9-44ada3f6c102&shtk=TWFuc2JyaWRnZSBPbmUgb24gT25lOiBEZXNtb25kIFR1dHU%3D&shdk=RGVzbW9uZCBUdXR1IG9mIFNvdXRoIEFmcmljYSB0YWxrcyB0byBQZXRlciBNYW5zYnJpZGdlIGFib3V0IHRoZSBzdGF0ZSBvZiBjdXJyZW50IHdvcmxkIGFmZmFpcnMsIGFuZCBob3cgU291dGggQWZyaWNhIGhhcyBjaGFuZ2VkIHNpbmNlIGFwYXJ0aGVpZCBlbmRlZC4%3D&shhk=vUCsTLKvZVscG4%2F65LBh%2FaF04bfhxdf6XOv5zZZMAmc%3D&form=VDSHOT&shth=OVP.9BHSw3jsogzW0jmu8GIc7QDcB8

I encourage you to click on the CBC link above for an interview Peter Mansbridge had with Tutu.

As well, to remember one of his most powerful works, 2011’s God is Not a Christian and other provocations, take time during this holiday season to pick up that and his collaboration with the Dalai Lama in 2016 Book of Joy to spend time in contemplation. The great pause, that covid has caused the world, means we have an opportunity to live out joy in our lives and communities, to be povocateurs of transfiguration, with that little twinkle of Desmond in our own heart’s eye.

As we celebrate a life of Joy, the question that rests in our souls today, is:

Who is continuing the work?

Who is called to the work?

Are you being called to the work of Joy?

https://hollywoodlife.com/2021/12/26/desmond-tutu-death-celebrities-react/

Palm Sunday (Day 377- De Ja Vu?)

Not fully, as Alberta allows for some in person worship, we take a step not to attend though our congregation follows through on all the i and t’s, with extra care for neighbour. My son has complexities and is high risk, he cannot wear a mask, and sometimes needs to move to a low sensor environment, we do not want to create extra-stressors upon an already tense situation provincially in the viewing of the church by some, or create unnecesary useless conversations for anti-maskers, so we worship, as one seminary prof years ago phrased it, by an inter-stellar conference call, connecting us with our church family via online.

Yet it does cause reflection. In those moments, with a calling renewed (reaffirmed?) to begin forward once more out of what was into what was prepared to be. Some try to get into one’s heart through a negative cycle in the brain (insidious gremlins planted for growth under the guise of, well what do you believe? or Do you really think… )or whatever questions come from anyone’s own individuated story not comprehending that sometimes, and most importantly most times, it should never be driven by “I” but rather “we” especially in the building of church family.

My Nan (my kids’ great granny) who was the one that opened the door back to me in church as an adult (my Mum & Aunty Donna, set it up as a child through baptism, then pre-school, then Vacation Bible School) oh the Matriarchs strength that the faith stands upon. Was giddy to share time with pre-schoolers, her great-grandbabies in church. To teach her non-verbal great grandson how to begin making music sounds with her favourite song,

For as she always taught, children are always welcome with Brother Jesus. More so, church, is to be the place that is free (something that has shaped my ministry in more ways than she could ever imagine). My understanding of community discovery from how my Mum and Aunt shared the faith. This is what I took to my children, as well, as the almost irrelevance of the denomination, for at the heart is the love of Jesus and living that love out.

The strength, even in failing health, when the church pushed against my son, my Nan standing firm and telling the wealthy, “This boy’s love, who he takes Sundays after church with my grandson to those with dementia, and the joy he spreads matters more to our God, than you busybodies. He belongs here more than you.”

The joy in her eyes when we’d come visit her when she would be in lodges and long term care, and J would take her to get “gussied” up for tea time. And the joy of their giggles and sing-a-longs.

As some will try to dissuade us on our new journey, this is what comes to mind. Also a visit in dream scape, where my Nanny has tears in her eyes. She shares the story of her little cousin, who took his life because the world could not accept him for who he loved. How that shame she shares hurts so much, yet the joy in her heart seeing how her tea party partner is emerging into who God created them to be. The love, warmth in the walk. The tears she shares were once of shame, but in this young one’s story, they are tears of Joy, for how Jesus loves them.

And to remind both her great-grandbabies, they stand on the ground of powerful women and elders, cheering them on to build forward.

A reminder that was needed during this c-tine.

A time that we emerge into an important anniversary. A time of celebration for our kiddos. Palm Sunday which as Borg & Crossan (2007) The Last Week pointed out it was not simply a welcoming parade for Jesus, but rather an act of sedition against the Empire. It was blatantly pointing that those who were seen as non-entities had discovered belonging and love. The oppression and oppressors of religion, power, money and empire were being shaken to their core. This is the global sin that killed Jesus, and exposed the fallacy of the corrupt system for all to see in this humble rabbi- servant leader.

It has meant quite a bit to me in the journey, taking Holy Week, as it is laid out (not compressing as some do with Passion Sunday). But it also grew to mean more as the next church we would land in (even their Granny’s strong words, we would not survive the purge of the money holders). But the next would provide some rest, a bit of sancturay, and other challenges. But in the eye before the storm, there was church family, where my son was heard. His passion for his friend Jesus, that Granny taught him shone through. Whether it was nattering during sermons about the baptism of John the Baptist, trying to help when others were baptized, his time finally came.

Palm Sunday, a day when all were shown that we are beloved and blessed in the mosaic and wonderful image of God. Tearing up when told it was time.

A year later, the dancer and joy bringer that was his younger sibling, who was discipled by Granny, Nanny, and brother would be baptized. Twirling and laughing, unbeknownest to us, the last time we would celebrate in church with my Mum as a whole family.

Also Palm Sunday.

Both knowing before, and since, that God, and those in the love, create belonging.

How do you know that you belong?

Where is your courageous safe space?

What empowers you to not let others plant the gremlin seeds of discontent in your soul?

For Palm Sunday, as my children have lived, is the foudnation laid to build forward from. The love in us, connected to the love in you, that connects each of us in what can simply be known as the Holy Mystery some call God. Radicalized in the birth, life & teachings, execution, Cosmic no to the death penalty, and new life of Brother Jesus that connects each and everyone in community through the Spirit.

What is the moment in time, that when you hear it is time, surge of joy overwhelms as you know you are not alone, you are seen, you are connected, you belong?

How do you want to be remembered?

All to often we let the day to day needs for survival (whether it is actual needs or wants being driven to be filled, and the socio-econimic/psychological discussion around this component of what is colloquially called the “Rat Race” can be explored later). We focus on entitlements in our world designed to keep people out of help, rather than looking at our taxes, and the funds to aid those in need be specifically and easily accessed by those in need when needed (and then leverage our Canada Revenue Service at the other end to deal with the fraud or any income overruns). That has been exposed in c-tine as many have now had to access the system of government entitlements (whether montly stipens, grants or other aides) and realizing what the neo-liberalist conservative world has built. In some sectors, under the faux guise of a cross or crucifix. Yet at each turn, with many left behind, we have celebrated our public servants. Yet, we have believed that what matters more than anything is debit and credit columns on a budget spread sheet, not the person in front of us, regardless of the challenges/barriers/blessings in their life, has intrinsic value.

Intrinsic value, simply because they are human. No matter how you reach that truth- through religion, spirituality, ethics, morality, politics, science or all of the above. Yet, it does leave us a question then what does matter?

Why does this matter?

Think of who you are. How you exist in the world. The world does not have to be the globe (yes, flat earthers, it is a globe/sphere), but can be as small as the communities you live and work in. Think of how you introduce yourself. What are the things that you include in your introduction? Is it labels? Is it roles? Volunteer work? Paid work? Education levels? Family ties? Where you came from? Where you live? What you believe in? What your core values are? Hobbies? Interests? Political leanings? Religious affiliations? Does where you are asked to introduce yourself shift the introduction? What pieces of you does society view as having value to share? Is it true?

Why does this matter?

It speaks, much like how we qualify to access the social safety net, how we place value on one’s life, and our own. Are we simply human capital in the capitalist economic enterprise? Are we simply the good we can do in the world? Or the harm we have or may cause? It becomes harder to understand, especially in moment to moment life where the ground underneath us can feel like it is constantly shifting. It raises the importance of ongoing reflective practice. It is about understanding who we are, and in the still quiet moments, understanding that there is an ideal self we can attain and a journey to become, but also, there is the ideal self we are in the here and now living and being our life based on experience and the professional and personal circles of support around us.

But how to reflect, every so often it is good to think long game. What do we want to be remembered for. Some will point to death markers like tombstones and point to the dash between dates and ask “what does the dash represent?” In other words, what happened in the time on earth? For, I will be honest, with each death I do reflect on my beliefs around death, during c-tine there has been 8 that I know of in my circles. All I know for sure is there is a continuation to our story, but what that looks like. Well, as the old joke goes, I am sure when I reach that new prologue, and meet the greeter, and discover, I will spend the first chapter laughing about what was held to be true in the here and now.

But I digress. See in preparation for ministry or monasticism or life coaching, there is the reflective practice of writing your own obituary. Distilling down what you will be remembered for into less that 100 words (they are expensive to print); in other human services fields in academics as you progress there is the practice of writing one’s own eulogy. Same sort of thing, but the ability to be more verbose, and expose life goals laid out. Maybe this is why my goals have always been so simple, centered on making my own corner of the world a better place, and being a voice for those without…perhaps it is due to the reflective exercise and the conciseness of the nature I was given in the formation of book 1 of my life.

Yet, as I would encourage these exercises for you, they can be a tad morbid during a world wide pandemic with so much death around us. Instead, take time to think, of what it will be like to turn 100 years old. A milestone where the Queen, Governor General, Prime Minister (and if you’re Roman Catholic, Pope) will send you greetings. A time to celebrate all that you have experienced over this life. As I have been blessed to be a part of a few of these momentous occassions, media also comes to interview. Features are written. Short 250 word pieces, with pictures of your school days. Take time to curate this, what picture from your grade school or trade school or post-secondary would be used? Maybe one from your very first work day? Or day as….

Then…what do those 250 words say. Who are you in the life ahead? What is the true core you that will be celerbated? That will inspire others?

Does it resemble anything that is used for our maudlin introductions in the here and now? Or do we completely miss the mark?

My guess, and experience…we miss the mark.

Because our ideal self is now. Our ideal self is becoming.

250 words on who you are at 100 years old?

Who is the true you?

The Night of Love

Years ago I had the blessing of being asked to preach at a Moravian church on the Christmas eve service. But what does one talk about in the ideals of love at this time of year? How does one reflect on the Christmas story? The shattering of patriarchal roles in Matthew and Luke- Joseph informed if he truly is holy he’d follow Mary’s lead, and Mary being ASKED for consent to be the Christ-bearer. Where it was first announced to the lowliest, for the Love of God (truly, the underlying story of the Hebrew Bible) is open. Yet, what also struck me, is a thread of social gospel.

Today’s centering hymn, listen here.

• 

• 

For it was a story, the census, of groups of oppressed, conquered people under empire (colonialism), where there was active and passive genocide. The count was for taxes, but I would also reckon it was to ensure the Non-Romans were being kept culled and in check. It was the creation of a peoples of episodic homelessness. Those that for times each year would need to travel, and be without stable housing.

This was Mary and Joseph.

This was there story entering into Bethlehem, a place they were not wanted, a place where there literally was no room at the Inn. A place, where I can imagine the journey to, and the journey through, they heard many racial and hate filled things and stereotypes. What gremlins would be emerging in Joseph’s mind during this journey with his newly pregnant betrothed? Would this be the first time Mary had seen the evil of the world? or was she, perhaps, at nine months pregnant, feeling safer than she had ever felt in her life from the leering Roman soldiers? The religious oppressors leers?

When one finally sees the night, I wonder how much the Inn Keeper’s wife prodded to ensure safety as darkness descended? What was unknown to these weary travelers? Yet, here was love of neighbour even in its awkwardness of offering up the stable. Sometimes, when the storm is raging it is the only option-the challenge for us is to not let the port when the storm is raging (i.e. homeless shelters, fractured government entitlements, foodbanks) become the institutional solution of love when there is better options to show care for our fellow citizens and ourselves (i.e. affordable housing, universal basic income, community gardens, full public education, universal pharmacare, expanding universal health care to include optical, dental, mental health; public day care (with monies for families that have a caregiver at home); oh and as Covid has proven, public and properly funded long term care for our elders).

This is another root of the nativity story, small glimmers, love open for everyone that society said had to qualify for existence, God’s star shone. The light shattered through the darkness showing the simplest of paths, to what should be the safest of spaces:

H-O-M-E.

For home, is not the place we exist, rather it is the place where our true selves, how we were created to be, is birthed into this world.

Benediction hymn here.

What is your home?

What is being born within you for 2021?

Day 78

My daughter picks up the torch and creates a proud Daddy moment—

 

54

On the eve of Mother’s Day

simply,

thankful,

for the wonderful Mum that taught me kindness, shared love, opened here family to all

A woman that many would come to see as Mum,

a blessing in our world,

and my life

and the life of my kids

whose spirit lives on in their own lives and acts of kindness

Happy Mother’s/Mum’s/Nana’s Day! May the tea party in paradise be sweeter, and the treats shareable, Mum. Not a day goes by we don’t talk, and I think of you, and see your wisdom, wonder, love and kindness in the eyes and hearts of my beautiful children, those that you shared so many laughs, and adventures with and shaped their understanding of faith beyond you will ever know, in the to short earthly time you were able to journey with us all, may the man I am today make you proud for all the heart, tears, laughs and prayers you invested in my walk

and to celebrate my Nan, my Mum’s Mum at this time as well:

Celebrating those my kids knew for a spark on their journey that aided in shaping them this Mother’s Day Weekend, like my Mum, many knew my Nan, as either Mrs. May, Nan or Granny to them and knew the love shared, laughs, and joy. For my kids I will always remember her in church with Leland helping him form the sounds to go with “Jesus Loves me” and Justina and her always taking some time together to get “done up” before tea time that we would have in the common areas of her apartment and lodges, inviting others to join as she shared how wonderful it was that her grandkids and great grandkids came for a day of fun, and the fun has never stopped with the joy shared, I still remember the day in Kindergarten when you went to the tea party in paradise Nan, and Justy came home to tell us it was all good, Granny flew down to the play ground in her airplane for tea and play time like we always do.

Celebrate tomorrow, and let your kids listen to the words of our Prime Minister–

May during this C-Tine, you find your safe Mum to love and to love you, just the way you are.

Hi-Jacked Faith

Hope wins

Is the shattering truth of the empty tomb

and the new life,

celebrated a scant few days ago

the blood over doors

the exodus of the persecuted

a false regime propped up on religious eyes

shattered.

Religious oppressors

Empire dehumanizing

2,000 years ago give or take a few years

depending on your historical lens

Constantine’s swords sleighed

bastardizing Brother Jesus’ words of the Kingdom being near

not sword and steel to rule all,

but a transfiguration of the world

true belonging due to simply being created

in the wonderful mosaic image of the Holy

Sacredness breathed in

acknowledged,

blessed

Love wins

We continue to miss the mark

our corporal sin,

bastardizing love with qualifiers

to sink into our own badge of “sinful” forgiveness honours

to create dissent,

exclusion

contrary to the words, and life lived, lost, and resurrected

Still today

horrors cloaked in a faux cross

to pacify the masses, like an opioid

so they will believe they do note

deserve equality, equity, justice

health care, belonging

affirmation of inherent worth

for being human.

We allow too many,

as the quiet revolution speaks from the whispers to the shouts

the empire of the faux cross rattles as the embers burn away the  crucifixion wood

dominion to destruction of creation

like our neighbour

that we were blessed to inherit, to curate, cultivate, care for

to serve and live in cocreation with the Holy.

Willing to succumb to the absolute evil

that the sacred writings of those on the journey spoke of

greed in the lust after money

the lust after the matarial

the lust of defining our worth based on bank accounts, belongings owned, that has always led astray.

Mixing up material belongings and money, with values and belonging.

For the kingdom as Brother Jesus said, is near…

we can touch the thin space.

We simply need to throw off the yoke and shackles of the Empire

The faux cross we clamour to,

and stand in the margins,

with the labourer who taught us through living

that

Hope Wins

Love Wins

Are you willing?