The last couple of weeks have been a good time for the Rambler...it's a cliche, maybe, to talk about "healing," but I certainly do feel more able to function and with more energy than for quite some time.
The trip south of the Longest Undefended Border in the World (!) was a great source of joy.
I should backtrack here a little bit, perhaps. When I was first able to read, we spent a lot of time with my grandparents, who subscribed to a lot of American magazines (because that's what there WAS, children, is why). They were ideal reading for a curious child: "Life" with wonderful photographs, "Look," "Collier's," and of course "The Saturday Evening Post," with plenty of fiction in every issue, terrific cartoons, Norman Rockwell covers, and all.
I was aware that we lived in Canada, and that south of us there was another country called the United States -- we were close to the border, and now and then visited a great-aunt near Seattle. But most of my awareness came from American magazines. And over time I came to the deep conviction that although the bits around the edge might be a bit dodgy, if you got into the very middle part of the United States, you would find that THAT was where the "Good People" lived. It was a pretty untested assumption, but comforting nonetheless.
And then I grew up, or at least got older, and became more worldly-wise, and dismissed that youthful impression with derision.
But every now and then I get to travel into the "very middle part of the United States," and am forced to admit, every time, "By damn, I was right in the first place."
Setting aside for the moment the stellar hospitality of my hosts in the Cheesy Bit of the Very Middle Part -- folks, they even let me cut up the lefse for the ordination dinner, I was so honoured -- just the experience of travel ... from the efforts of all at Teeny Municipal Airport, ticket agents, security crew, jet-bridge attendants, flight attendants, who all but threw me bodily onto a flight for which I turned up so late it was embarrassing...to the total strangers I encountered on the people-movers in Enormous Hub of Air Travel...I was flabbergasted, people looked me in the eye and smiled and said "hello there!" Friends, it's downright Uncanadian Behaviour. But I think I like it.
More, another time.
Showing posts with label Young'uns. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Young'uns. Show all posts
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
a happy Sunday
Preached this morning at St. Curious on the temptations of Christ and what they say about the nature of God and the nature of a human being, and managed to set it in context with both other readings AND the Psalm. Once again...I thought I "had it covered" and then the latterly verses of the Psalm detonated in my hearing AS I heard them read at the early morning service. I got rather carried away, I'm afraid...
A light lunch with the Daughter Unit and then home to prepare a sustaining early supper, catch about an hour's sleep, and away with #1 Son to see a local production of Annie, featuring #2 Son. He reported with humorous chagrin of the audition procedure, that he was asked to do a dance routine and then cast as FDR: "Right, I dance like a guy with polio, good to know that." (I am old enough BTW -- and INCORRECT enough -- to miss the presence in the cast of characters of "the Punjab" and "the Asp"--anybody else remember them???)
I do try not to dote, you know, and to be fair-minded and impartial in my assessment of what I see on stage when the offspring are participating. FAIL. The little so-and-so can speak so as to be understood...and when he sings he sings on pitch. Both of which in my astigmatic opinion set him distinctly apart from the rest of the cast. In short, Ma is proud tonight.
And so to bed.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
episkope and other matters
Reflecting on the picture of His Grace in my last post (dear me, that sounds quite military and sad, doesn't it)...I remember my very first encounter with things Anglican, indeed with the episcopate in any form.
It was sixty years ago this past summer (merciful Heaven...the Rambler goes into Ancient Mariner mode here for a bit) "in a galaxy far, far away" -- well, no, but it was in the Yukon Territory, at a place called Carmacks, on the Yukon River. There was a coal mine at Carmacks, and my father managed it.
Along about midsummer, visitors arrived, by boat -- an "outboard" -- and stayed for lunch and for an afternoon's visit: the Anglican Bishop of the Yukon and his curate, the Rev. Randall Stringer (son of the Rt. Rev. Isaac O Stringer, "the Bishop who ate his boots." You could look it up). My Dad and Randall had known each other growing up in Dawson City, and they and my mother had a lively conversation around the table after lunch. But Bishop Adams sat down on the floor with me. We didn't play tea-party; but I had some plasticine, and he made me an entirely charming pig complete with curly tail.
I checked the Diocese of Yukon website just now -- he was a man of 70 when I met him. Visiting his diocese, in an open boat on a not-altogether-tame river through the wilderness...stopping wherever he encountered a human being...and taking the time to play with a little girl.
Yes, I think that's leadership.
(And as my friends say at this point: "And then, you became ordained.")
Busy times at MH & U -- baptisms and confirmations scheduled for October 18th beting St. Luke, and parish anniversary, and the Rambler's 13th anniversary of ordination; we have young adult, middle-aged, and senior candidates for both sacraments as well as adolescents and infants.
And I have three major pieces of writing on my plate today along with Clericus, hospital communion service, wedding interview, and spiritual journalling meeting. Whee! More coffee is called for!
Monday, August 17, 2009
books (ever-lovin')
From time to time the DU enquires gently of me how many bookcases I have in this office.
The answer is always the same -- "about five."
"And how many of them are full?"
"Well, all of them and there are some stacked..."
"And tell me, Mom -- where are they going when you move out of the office? Cuz they're not going on the floor in cardboard boxes..."
My problem is -- that I learned to read. No, sorry. My problem is that when I want to read a book, I buy it. And then -- since hardly anyone writes just ONE book, it makes sense to see what else the author has produced, and acquire that, and then one might as well make a push for the entire oeuvre, pronounced "OOVER", and then the curatorial instinct kicks in, and the thought of the books, so painstakingly collected, being dispersed and vanishing away is sheer heartbreak.
Be that as it may, I don't have shelf space at home for the books I have at home, and I'm proposing to run 5 additional bookcases-ful, minus the bookcases, into that mess? One understands DU's concern.
I had got this far into the conundrum when I reflected that I know a considerable number of inspiringly bright young theological students... and in special particular the bright-eyed DU of former Marvellous Rector and Best Boss, now Marvellous Bishop. Said DU currently sweeping all before her in her studies and a candidate for ordination.
And the heartbreak just went away. She was here yesterday with her Mom and Dad, and went away to begin her final year of studies with a large box and two carry bags full of books.
And if it hurt at all -- the hurt was more than done away by the glee of saying, "And you'd better have THIS while you're at it..." and hearing her squeaks of "Are you serious? Really?"
I think that may well be all I have ever had in the way of gift or calling...to bring books to people and people to books.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
since you asked me...
"was the Princess NICE?"
Yes, she was. The little girl she is greeting here has profound hearing challenges; she is one of an African family sponsored by Most Holy and Undivided.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
reflections on teaching, and "Can you spell VOCATION?"
We are rejoicing -- or maybe just exhibiting reprehensible smugness -- at MH & U these days over our NINE, count'em, confirmands. Each provided with a mentor, too; and none of the mentors likely to cause harm of any sort to their charges.
This is all good! The young people are mostly boys, just a couple of girls, ranging in age from a very mature 9 to 16.
This means lots of adult males involved in the mentoring, also good.
I also have a handful of wee ones interested in first-communion instruction and/or baptismal instruction.
The issue here is that we welcome whole families with a range of ages and a range of theological backgrounds including the Anabaptist, so there are anomalies in the ages at which our children do things for the first time.
I thought I might economize on effort and energy by teaching the whole mob (the little ones are 6 or 7 years old) through the most basic "Life in the Eucharist" work and then get stuck into William Willimon's material on "Making Disciples" for the balance of the confirmation instruction.
And so on Sunday I found myself in the nave of the church with about 8 of the confirmands, and mentors according, and two bright-eyed church-oriented little girls, and a small crowd of parents, various.
We had spent some time last Sunday on the ante-communion part of the liturgy.
So I moved a small table to the head of the aisle, set it with my travelling communion kit, including wafers, wine, and water, and called the little girls to me, because I thought that doing the teaching "fishbowl" style might be best -- two participants and the rest observers... this seemed to be OK for the group.
I borrowed the two long white brocade bookmarks from the altar-book and put them on the little girls like stoles...and then encouraged them to see what happens at communion time from where the priest sees it...we counted out wafers, poured water, poured wine, washed little hands with the lavabo bowl...we recalled the story of the Last Supper which we tell every Good Friday as part of the children's Way of the Cross.
and I asked them to wonder how many of the roughly-a-dozen of young people there might find themselves doing this work as their life's work. (Actually, I said, "I'll just bet that at least one of you, someday...")
I had NO IDEA how that thought would go over, at all. But it did seem to me that a way to pull them through their confirmation instruction might be by applying the superior magnetic effect of ordination...I still don't know with any confidence whether that's legitimate, or inspired, or unscrupulously manipulative, or what.
But they were MIGHTY thoughtful. The little girls meanwhile were INTO IT...surreptitiously stroking their stoles, and -- one of them -- extending a very small forefinger to touch the wafers in the paten.
So we wrapped up the lesson with some discussion of ways that communion is shared in different churches and in different situations, and they all went home.
But I had feedback...indirectly, from the parents of the little girl who isn't yet baptized. At home with her parents, she told them, "THAT WAS THE MOST MOST SPECIAL THING THAT I HAVE EVER DONE."
And I think that is, after all, what I wanted them to feel about the Eucharist.
This is all good! The young people are mostly boys, just a couple of girls, ranging in age from a very mature 9 to 16.
This means lots of adult males involved in the mentoring, also good.
I also have a handful of wee ones interested in first-communion instruction and/or baptismal instruction.
The issue here is that we welcome whole families with a range of ages and a range of theological backgrounds including the Anabaptist, so there are anomalies in the ages at which our children do things for the first time.
I thought I might economize on effort and energy by teaching the whole mob (the little ones are 6 or 7 years old) through the most basic "Life in the Eucharist" work and then get stuck into William Willimon's material on "Making Disciples" for the balance of the confirmation instruction.
And so on Sunday I found myself in the nave of the church with about 8 of the confirmands, and mentors according, and two bright-eyed church-oriented little girls, and a small crowd of parents, various.
We had spent some time last Sunday on the ante-communion part of the liturgy.
So I moved a small table to the head of the aisle, set it with my travelling communion kit, including wafers, wine, and water, and called the little girls to me, because I thought that doing the teaching "fishbowl" style might be best -- two participants and the rest observers... this seemed to be OK for the group.
I borrowed the two long white brocade bookmarks from the altar-book and put them on the little girls like stoles...and then encouraged them to see what happens at communion time from where the priest sees it...we counted out wafers, poured water, poured wine, washed little hands with the lavabo bowl...we recalled the story of the Last Supper which we tell every Good Friday as part of the children's Way of the Cross.
and I asked them to wonder how many of the roughly-a-dozen of young people there might find themselves doing this work as their life's work. (Actually, I said, "I'll just bet that at least one of you, someday...")
I had NO IDEA how that thought would go over, at all. But it did seem to me that a way to pull them through their confirmation instruction might be by applying the superior magnetic effect of ordination...I still don't know with any confidence whether that's legitimate, or inspired, or unscrupulously manipulative, or what.
But they were MIGHTY thoughtful. The little girls meanwhile were INTO IT...surreptitiously stroking their stoles, and -- one of them -- extending a very small forefinger to touch the wafers in the paten.
So we wrapped up the lesson with some discussion of ways that communion is shared in different churches and in different situations, and they all went home.
But I had feedback...indirectly, from the parents of the little girl who isn't yet baptized. At home with her parents, she told them, "THAT WAS THE MOST MOST SPECIAL THING THAT I HAVE EVER DONE."
And I think that is, after all, what I wanted them to feel about the Eucharist.
Monday, May 25, 2009
oh the difference...
Yesterday was intense.
Fifteen hours from arrival at MH & U in the morning to pulling out of the parking lot en route home in the evening...
Saturday was spent MOSTLY at the church as well, on the periphery of madly energetic cleaning-up going on indoors and outdoors. Most of it pretty good work, but some of it pretty mindless. "Let's clean up the chancel, and let's start by unplugging everything and leaving it that way." "Let's clean up the narthex, and let's start by gathering up all the little church-front portable easel signs, and HIDING THEM SOMEWHERE." Somewhere remote from the front door, which of course is where they're deployed.
I didn't sleep very well Saturday night, and arriving at church to find these...anomalies...produced something close to a clerical meltdown, I am embarrassed to say. Running about of churchwardens, "It's OK, Rambler. It'll be all right. We'll just ask the congregation at announcement time, where the signs went. Just be calm. You're OK."
The assistant preached in exemplary fashion... it is such a blessing to have the stimulus of another preacher on the premises...especially when his work evokes the "yes-indeed-but-on-the-other-hand" Anglican response. Leading me to reflect on the difference between statements of fact and statements of truth. (not wanting to think about statements of cornmeal mush, which constitute most of the preaching one hears.)
Got through the second service. (Signs were duly produced at announcement time, expressions of injured innocence all 'round.)
Lined up to get invitation/ticket from Ticket Maven. Accosted in line-up by Exemplary Laywoman reminding me that the "youth" were awaiting me for their confirmation class. Came "this close" to biting said laywoman right in the goozle for asking me to be in two places at once...she retreated, prudently.
Got ticket, had confirmation class, worked through prayer of consecration with little children while big children looked on. We have NINE, count'em, NINE confirmands for the service in October, and at least a couple of baptizands, it's all delightful.
Co-ordinated perceptions with Ticket Maven Lady and sent her off to phone Chronic Stayers-Away lest they show up the Sunday AFTER the royal hoo-hah, and then the screaming begins, again.
Worked on paperwork all afternoon barring quick dash out for a lunch/supper pizza.
Back to computer at 6:35 and wrote sermon for Evensong (Choral) which happened at 7 pm, attended by members of Prairie Metropolis and Hinterland Council of Churches, and a few parishioners, and, God bless and reward them, a solid phalanx of choir.
There was chanting, Anglican chanting, big time.
Preached on Jeremiah 31:1-13, Ephesians 5, and ecumenism with reflections from John 17 (from the morning services).
Sang lovely Anglican evening hymns too..."O Gracious Light, Lord Jesus Christ" (Tallis), "Light of the World, in Grace and Beauty" (Rendez a Dieu), and "Day is Done, But Love Unfailing" (Ar Hyd Y Nos). MOST satisfying to one and all.
Then convened and chaired AGM of Council of Churches, which went well despite no-shows and no-replies (and no minutes -- my fault)...and wrapped up evening with "whining and cheesiness" supplied by the Very Forgiving Laywoman who had narrowly escaped being Rambler-bitten earlier in the day.
And so, as they say, to bed.
All in all, a good day.
And, I'm happy to say, a good night's sleep, which made all the difference today!
Fifteen hours from arrival at MH & U in the morning to pulling out of the parking lot en route home in the evening...
Saturday was spent MOSTLY at the church as well, on the periphery of madly energetic cleaning-up going on indoors and outdoors. Most of it pretty good work, but some of it pretty mindless. "Let's clean up the chancel, and let's start by unplugging everything and leaving it that way." "Let's clean up the narthex, and let's start by gathering up all the little church-front portable easel signs, and HIDING THEM SOMEWHERE." Somewhere remote from the front door, which of course is where they're deployed.
I didn't sleep very well Saturday night, and arriving at church to find these...anomalies...produced something close to a clerical meltdown, I am embarrassed to say. Running about of churchwardens, "It's OK, Rambler. It'll be all right. We'll just ask the congregation at announcement time, where the signs went. Just be calm. You're OK."
The assistant preached in exemplary fashion... it is such a blessing to have the stimulus of another preacher on the premises...especially when his work evokes the "yes-indeed-but-on-the-other-hand" Anglican response. Leading me to reflect on the difference between statements of fact and statements of truth. (not wanting to think about statements of cornmeal mush, which constitute most of the preaching one hears.)
Got through the second service. (Signs were duly produced at announcement time, expressions of injured innocence all 'round.)
Lined up to get invitation/ticket from Ticket Maven. Accosted in line-up by Exemplary Laywoman reminding me that the "youth" were awaiting me for their confirmation class. Came "this close" to biting said laywoman right in the goozle for asking me to be in two places at once...she retreated, prudently.
Got ticket, had confirmation class, worked through prayer of consecration with little children while big children looked on. We have NINE, count'em, NINE confirmands for the service in October, and at least a couple of baptizands, it's all delightful.
Co-ordinated perceptions with Ticket Maven Lady and sent her off to phone Chronic Stayers-Away lest they show up the Sunday AFTER the royal hoo-hah, and then the screaming begins, again.
Worked on paperwork all afternoon barring quick dash out for a lunch/supper pizza.
Back to computer at 6:35 and wrote sermon for Evensong (Choral) which happened at 7 pm, attended by members of Prairie Metropolis and Hinterland Council of Churches, and a few parishioners, and, God bless and reward them, a solid phalanx of choir.
There was chanting, Anglican chanting, big time.
Preached on Jeremiah 31:1-13, Ephesians 5, and ecumenism with reflections from John 17 (from the morning services).
Sang lovely Anglican evening hymns too..."O Gracious Light, Lord Jesus Christ" (Tallis), "Light of the World, in Grace and Beauty" (Rendez a Dieu), and "Day is Done, But Love Unfailing" (Ar Hyd Y Nos). MOST satisfying to one and all.
Then convened and chaired AGM of Council of Churches, which went well despite no-shows and no-replies (and no minutes -- my fault)...and wrapped up evening with "whining and cheesiness" supplied by the Very Forgiving Laywoman who had narrowly escaped being Rambler-bitten earlier in the day.
And so, as they say, to bed.
All in all, a good day.
And, I'm happy to say, a good night's sleep, which made all the difference today!
Thursday, April 9, 2009
amid toil and grief and pain
...trouble, sorrow, need, sickness, and any other adversity...
from time to time I think of a couple of Young Lady Theology Students of my acquaintance...
and my heart really does leap up, and I think there may be hope for the church after all.
from time to time I think of a couple of Young Lady Theology Students of my acquaintance...
and my heart really does leap up, and I think there may be hope for the church after all.
a breathless hush...
...before we go gurgling into the vortex of the Triduum.
It is a lovely sunny late afternoon...I ventured out for some lunch and then went to the Stupor-Store for last-minute groceries: hot cross buns and grape juice for the children tomorrow (WHITE grape juice, in consideration of the carpet) -- bought matzoth earlier in the week... also several pounds of small foil-wrapped solid chocolate Easter eggs. At the door, after the Vigil and after the two services Easter Sunday morning, I slip Easter eggs to folks as I shake hands with them. It is amusing to see how far some folks walk before it registers that they are now holding a small, solid object. (Children 'get it' instantly, of course.)
Also bought a package of knee-high stockings, our new Hon. Assistant having expressed his intention to wash the Rambler's feet tonight... there are too many funny stories in circulation already about church-ladies forgetting NOT to wear panty-hose or tights, and divesting themselves at the last minute, undercover of albs, cassocks, prayer-desks -- and, for all I know, dossal curtains too.
Our Holy Week eucharists have been well attended, within the parameters of that term...never fewer than a half-dozen since Monday...this is unusual and heartening.
There are masses of flowers ready for the decoration of the chancel on Saturday.
Two of my most reliable elderly gents in the parish decided they couldn't stand my office windows any longer (spring fever takes odd forms), and set themselves to clean them on the outside one afternoon this week (fortunately with long-handled squeegees rather than ladders etc.) -- they launched into this task complete with audible commentary on each other's performance, capacity, parentage, etc., while I was attempting to engross the attention of a drop-in couple looking for a July wedding venue.
The slip-slopping of the squeegees and the commentary were rather more than the young folks' attentiveness could cope with. Too funny.
One of these gentlemen is the artificer of our new aumbry (and much else both beautiful and useful); the other is the donor-elect of the Sanctuary Lamp. The latter helps out at the early Sunday service as acolyte and intercessor. He panicked over the prayer list on Palm Sunday and requested our prayers on behalf of "Verona-kwee"... in spite of coaching beforehand ("Vay-roe-NEEK, Vay-roe-NEEK")...ah well.
This week, by the way, we've used the Introit and Tract Psalm sections laid out in the old Book of Common Prayer rubrics for Holy Week. It was a fascinating experience; there's a real trajectory of feeling and insight and response if you lay them out all end to end, from "help help, they're going to hurt me" to "Let all the people praise thee..."
It is a lovely sunny late afternoon...I ventured out for some lunch and then went to the Stupor-Store for last-minute groceries: hot cross buns and grape juice for the children tomorrow (WHITE grape juice, in consideration of the carpet) -- bought matzoth earlier in the week... also several pounds of small foil-wrapped solid chocolate Easter eggs. At the door, after the Vigil and after the two services Easter Sunday morning, I slip Easter eggs to folks as I shake hands with them. It is amusing to see how far some folks walk before it registers that they are now holding a small, solid object. (Children 'get it' instantly, of course.)
Also bought a package of knee-high stockings, our new Hon. Assistant having expressed his intention to wash the Rambler's feet tonight... there are too many funny stories in circulation already about church-ladies forgetting NOT to wear panty-hose or tights, and divesting themselves at the last minute, undercover of albs, cassocks, prayer-desks -- and, for all I know, dossal curtains too.
Our Holy Week eucharists have been well attended, within the parameters of that term...never fewer than a half-dozen since Monday...this is unusual and heartening.
There are masses of flowers ready for the decoration of the chancel on Saturday.
Two of my most reliable elderly gents in the parish decided they couldn't stand my office windows any longer (spring fever takes odd forms), and set themselves to clean them on the outside one afternoon this week (fortunately with long-handled squeegees rather than ladders etc.) -- they launched into this task complete with audible commentary on each other's performance, capacity, parentage, etc., while I was attempting to engross the attention of a drop-in couple looking for a July wedding venue.
The slip-slopping of the squeegees and the commentary were rather more than the young folks' attentiveness could cope with. Too funny.
One of these gentlemen is the artificer of our new aumbry (and much else both beautiful and useful); the other is the donor-elect of the Sanctuary Lamp. The latter helps out at the early Sunday service as acolyte and intercessor. He panicked over the prayer list on Palm Sunday and requested our prayers on behalf of "Verona-kwee"... in spite of coaching beforehand ("Vay-roe-NEEK, Vay-roe-NEEK")...ah well.
This week, by the way, we've used the Introit and Tract Psalm sections laid out in the old Book of Common Prayer rubrics for Holy Week. It was a fascinating experience; there's a real trajectory of feeling and insight and response if you lay them out all end to end, from "help help, they're going to hurt me" to "Let all the people praise thee..."
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
A thrill a minute...
...at Tether's End, these days...
Yesterday was designated as "FAMILY DAY" here in Prairie Province: i.e., "any excuse for a statutory-holiday Monday in February" in the total absence of Presidents to commemorate...
Number Two Son Unit came over in the morning with tools and Mysterious Box of electrical supplies and re-illumined the laundry room with two new twisty bulbs in separate fixtures in lieu of the half-failed fluorescent fixture that was there..."A light to lighten the Gentiles" and much appreciated.
Then a meeting with church-wardens late afternoon, and when I got home, after dawdling about in the office for some time...I couldn't get the front door open. Hysterics from Nefertiti on the other side.
Evening, statutory holiday, the Locksmith's Delight all around...as a "non-functioning key" became a "broken lock" became a "broken lock incapable of being half-replaced" became "hole in door not large enough for new lockset" became "new lockset not engaging strike plate in door jamb..."
Tether's End heaves about, you see, like a dory on the waves, and the doors interior and exterior prove it...
Ninety minutes and three hundred dollars later, all is functional and secure...the lock locks, the key unlocks, the latch latches, and life goes on.
Yesterday was designated as "FAMILY DAY" here in Prairie Province: i.e., "any excuse for a statutory-holiday Monday in February" in the total absence of Presidents to commemorate...
Number Two Son Unit came over in the morning with tools and Mysterious Box of electrical supplies and re-illumined the laundry room with two new twisty bulbs in separate fixtures in lieu of the half-failed fluorescent fixture that was there..."A light to lighten the Gentiles" and much appreciated.
Then a meeting with church-wardens late afternoon, and when I got home, after dawdling about in the office for some time...I couldn't get the front door open. Hysterics from Nefertiti on the other side.
Evening, statutory holiday, the Locksmith's Delight all around...as a "non-functioning key" became a "broken lock" became a "broken lock incapable of being half-replaced" became "hole in door not large enough for new lockset" became "new lockset not engaging strike plate in door jamb..."
Tether's End heaves about, you see, like a dory on the waves, and the doors interior and exterior prove it...
Ninety minutes and three hundred dollars later, all is functional and secure...the lock locks, the key unlocks, the latch latches, and life goes on.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
in which the Rambler overhears the ontological question...
Earlier this week the cleaning firm was at work here at MH & U, represented by a daughter of the founding partners in the firm, and her pre-school-aged children.
While Mama vacuumed, the toddlers...toddled. In, out, up, down, and around, and eventually to the open door of the Rambler-Den (the chancel-door, that is; there are three doors to this office altogether. "When I say SCAT, I mean SCAT!"). Dialogue ensued, over the sound of the vacuum cleaner.
"Mama!"
"Yes dear..."
"Who DAT, Mama?"
[pause] "Oh that, that's...the Reverend."
[long, long, long pause]
"WHY?"
and answer came there none.
While Mama vacuumed, the toddlers...toddled. In, out, up, down, and around, and eventually to the open door of the Rambler-Den (the chancel-door, that is; there are three doors to this office altogether. "When I say SCAT, I mean SCAT!"). Dialogue ensued, over the sound of the vacuum cleaner.
"Mama!"
"Yes dear..."
"Who DAT, Mama?"
[pause] "Oh that, that's...the Reverend."
[long, long, long pause]
"WHY?"
and answer came there none.
Monday, January 12, 2009
updates!
Apologies for the long blog-hiatus. I Rambled myself onto the livingroom couch right after Christmas and spent many hours there in a TV-enhanced coma...
Although there is still a bit of a graveyard cough from time to time, I think I'm healthy again basically. And it isn't quite as dark as it was...and we've had a few mild days' respite from the twenty- to forty-below temperatures. And the willows along the edge of the University Farm are showing colour in their stems; it isn't spring, but it WILL BE spring.
The sole prospective candidate for baptism yesterday on the "feast of" bailed out on us last week, which left me seriously gravelled for a topic for children's focus. And then I remembered...I'm in my "nothing to lose now" year, so why not encourage the children to ASPERSE the adult congregation, by way of reminding them of their own baptism, all very healthy and wholesome??? Please note this was to be "yer actual with-water aspersion" -- other kinds of aspersions we have plenty of already, alas alas.
Now the last time I saw this done, in another parish long ago and far away, the younger contingent were provided with bunches of parsley for their aspersing, and entered into the exercise with vast glee and energy, much to the outrage of the rest of the congregation and the ill-concealed glee of the priest (not the Rambler, on that occasion).
Not so the offspring of MH & U. Careful dabbling of fingers in the baptismal basin (carried by the Rambler)...and very gentle moistening of foreheads up and down the centre aisle, murmuring, "Remember you are God's sons and daughters". And THIS congregation was thrilled and moved.
Which was a fine thing too. But some days you can't get a good outrage off the ground for love nor money...
Friday, October 31, 2008
cookery and other things
Broke away from the office yesterday mid-afternoon to collect Honorary Grandson from where the bus drops him off and convey him to his DRUM LESSON. (No, the drums are not part of the entourage, DG!) We were enjoying a healthful snack at the Conservatory and awaiting his 4:30 lesson-time when his teacher emerged from the bowels of the institution to inform us the 4 p.m. student wasn't coming, would Z like the earlier lesson? "YES," said Z's gramma...that half-hour made considerable difference in the smoothness of the evening schedule.
Drove the boy home, swung around the block and collected Daughter Unit and SIL for a quick supper, dropped SIL back at their house to get ready for choir practice, and Herself and I were off to Major Downtown Hostelry for an alumni association event (mine).
A couple of dozen alumni of Snotty Eastern Post-Secondary Hub were assembled, and there were elegant things to eat and potable things to drink, and then we had a fine presentation by Noted Alumna and Professional Cook, and then the inevitable opportunity to buy the cookbook and have it autographed, and so home.
This morning I am trying to make all reasonably tidy in the desk dep't. and perhaps advance one or two balky projects, and then head for home again midday, collecting pumpkin and candy en route, and some major housecleaning, and trick-or-treaters this evening, "and so to bed," as they say.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
On the upswing again
All right darlings, thank you for your kind and affectionate remarks on yesterday's disasters...
I am happy to say that things are better. Or perhaps, as they used to say where I grew up, "Pas trop pire" -- "not too worse." (Very Canadian, that.)
Daughter Unit and Wonderful SIL drove back to my house and collected spare car keys and brought them to me at MH & U, and I went home, abandoning the Monteverdi concert because I was just so sad and disgusted, and also apprehensive that whoever had stolen the handbag would put driver's license and keys together and get into my house in my absence.
And I was thinking with much chagrin and reluctance that I was going to have to get both house and car "re-keyed," and probably do something about changing church locks...and get new cards for vehicle registration and vehicle insurance, as well as driver's licence
And then the sad broke out in a new place when I reflected that my handbag also contained my journal, AND the most excellent fountain pen that I bought in Rome at the Cartoleria behind the Pantheon (wail softly), AND my most excellent pocket knife that I bought at the Visitors' Centre at Agawa Bay...
So I was in full pity-party mode at home, when the phone rang...and it was Daughter Unit...two of the young ladies in the visiting choir had been attending to their pre-concert needs in the women's washroom when one asked the other, "What's the priest's name, in this church? Cuz I think I've just found her purse..."
And except for the wallet -- money, credit cards, and driver's licence...the contents were all present and accounted for. ALL my keys and the fob that lets me into the church, and my registration and my insurance, and my cheques...altho' I'd already closed both those bank accounts.
It has just lightened the psychic load immeasurably.
Thank God, thank God.
And today hasn't been too bad at all. I fell asleep early, got up and sermonized between midnight and three, slept some more...
There is a golden wedding party here this afternoon and after that I am going home to have a nice, quiet evening, and tomorrow an altogether quiet day...
And then Tuesday, frontal assault on the financial institutions and the motor association!!!
And some new protocols and procedures for financial management including cash under the mattress!!!
I do wish y'all a most happy and restful Labo[u]r Day.
I am happy to say that things are better. Or perhaps, as they used to say where I grew up, "Pas trop pire" -- "not too worse." (Very Canadian, that.)
Daughter Unit and Wonderful SIL drove back to my house and collected spare car keys and brought them to me at MH & U, and I went home, abandoning the Monteverdi concert because I was just so sad and disgusted, and also apprehensive that whoever had stolen the handbag would put driver's license and keys together and get into my house in my absence.
And I was thinking with much chagrin and reluctance that I was going to have to get both house and car "re-keyed," and probably do something about changing church locks...and get new cards for vehicle registration and vehicle insurance, as well as driver's licence
And then the sad broke out in a new place when I reflected that my handbag also contained my journal, AND the most excellent fountain pen that I bought in Rome at the Cartoleria behind the Pantheon (wail softly), AND my most excellent pocket knife that I bought at the Visitors' Centre at Agawa Bay...
So I was in full pity-party mode at home, when the phone rang...and it was Daughter Unit...two of the young ladies in the visiting choir had been attending to their pre-concert needs in the women's washroom when one asked the other, "What's the priest's name, in this church? Cuz I think I've just found her purse..."
And except for the wallet -- money, credit cards, and driver's licence...the contents were all present and accounted for. ALL my keys and the fob that lets me into the church, and my registration and my insurance, and my cheques...altho' I'd already closed both those bank accounts.
It has just lightened the psychic load immeasurably.
Thank God, thank God.
And today hasn't been too bad at all. I fell asleep early, got up and sermonized between midnight and three, slept some more...
There is a golden wedding party here this afternoon and after that I am going home to have a nice, quiet evening, and tomorrow an altogether quiet day...
And then Tuesday, frontal assault on the financial institutions and the motor association!!!
And some new protocols and procedures for financial management including cash under the mattress!!!
I do wish y'all a most happy and restful Labo[u]r Day.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Oh, the tedium of it all.
So this was one of those maniacal, super-maniacal weekends: funeral yesterday, with a reception, long unbloggable story attached to that.
Then a wedding rehearsal -- at 7:30, why did I ever agree to such a late one? -- with musicians practising for a recital a week hence right until the very last minute. About 50 people turned up for the rehearsal, some of them even on time. It was basically our modern-language wedding service, with South-East Asian cultural embellishments. After an hour and a quarter of rehearsal, "Oh, we forgot the candle part, we have to do that too..." An inter-cultural compromise of sorts is forged.
Meantime our new cleaning persons had decided this would be the week they would strip and resurface the Upper Hall floor, assuring one and all that it could be accomplished in the twinkling of an eye.
Well, no, because the scratches and gouges turned out to be much deeper than they thought, and long ineffably boring story made short, it meant that TODAY, with this very large wedding at 12:30, they had to resort to the old-fashioned drum sander...so the Upper Hall is off limits, and the upper corridor is impassible with stacked furniture, and everything, but everything is covered in sander-dust.
Picture, if you will, a bridegroom and four groomsmen in black suits. Yes.
In the meantime there are complications with the wedding families' post-wedding lunch set-up in the Lower Hall;
And just to keep the pot a-boiling, visiting choir is in intense rehearsal mode for their Monteverdi concert tonight.
They swoop back into the church as the last notes of Mendelssohn are dying away, neck and neck with the Altar Guild who need to change all the paraments back to GREEN; for tomorrow...and here come the wedding party, "it's too blusterous out there to take pictures, can we take them in the church???" Halt the taking down of white hangings.
And somewhere in all this FUN...the Rambler's handbag went out of her office. Yes. Again. This time with ALL its contents. Some of them valuable and some of them precious.
I'm tired of this, tired of this work, tired of this place, and frankly, tired of these people. I'm going home.
Then a wedding rehearsal -- at 7:30, why did I ever agree to such a late one? -- with musicians practising for a recital a week hence right until the very last minute. About 50 people turned up for the rehearsal, some of them even on time. It was basically our modern-language wedding service, with South-East Asian cultural embellishments. After an hour and a quarter of rehearsal, "Oh, we forgot the candle part, we have to do that too..." An inter-cultural compromise of sorts is forged.
Meantime our new cleaning persons had decided this would be the week they would strip and resurface the Upper Hall floor, assuring one and all that it could be accomplished in the twinkling of an eye.
Well, no, because the scratches and gouges turned out to be much deeper than they thought, and long ineffably boring story made short, it meant that TODAY, with this very large wedding at 12:30, they had to resort to the old-fashioned drum sander...so the Upper Hall is off limits, and the upper corridor is impassible with stacked furniture, and everything, but everything is covered in sander-dust.
Picture, if you will, a bridegroom and four groomsmen in black suits. Yes.
In the meantime there are complications with the wedding families' post-wedding lunch set-up in the Lower Hall;
And just to keep the pot a-boiling, visiting choir is in intense rehearsal mode for their Monteverdi concert tonight.
They swoop back into the church as the last notes of Mendelssohn are dying away, neck and neck with the Altar Guild who need to change all the paraments back to GREEN; for tomorrow...and here come the wedding party, "it's too blusterous out there to take pictures, can we take them in the church???" Halt the taking down of white hangings.
And somewhere in all this FUN...the Rambler's handbag went out of her office. Yes. Again. This time with ALL its contents. Some of them valuable and some of them precious.
I'm tired of this, tired of this work, tired of this place, and frankly, tired of these people. I'm going home.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Rain!
We woke up this morning to the rumble of thunder, not so usual at that time of day. It has been raining steadily since first light.
Lunch out with friends yesterday, a treat...and a minimum of ecclesiology involved!
Letters to write...proper pen'n'paper letters to write...and phone calls to return.
Question arose in recent conversation re: the place of etiquette in clergy formation. I mean the basic, "this is a knife, and this is a fork, take one in each hand" kind of stuff; "this is a parishioner approaching the front door of the Rectory; and this is what you say when you open the door."
The question arose in terms of different generational preparednesses for the day-to-day stuff of parish ministry...and how the gaps, where they appear, are or are not dealt with in seminary, in internships...
What's your experience? What's your thinking?
(My interlocutor and I also talked about professional self-presentation in terms of garb and grooming; the things that people need to be told...and sometimes aren't...)
Lunch out with friends yesterday, a treat...and a minimum of ecclesiology involved!
Letters to write...proper pen'n'paper letters to write...and phone calls to return.
Question arose in recent conversation re: the place of etiquette in clergy formation. I mean the basic, "this is a knife, and this is a fork, take one in each hand" kind of stuff; "this is a parishioner approaching the front door of the Rectory; and this is what you say when you open the door."
The question arose in terms of different generational preparednesses for the day-to-day stuff of parish ministry...and how the gaps, where they appear, are or are not dealt with in seminary, in internships...
What's your experience? What's your thinking?
(My interlocutor and I also talked about professional self-presentation in terms of garb and grooming; the things that people need to be told...and sometimes aren't...)
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
enough good news for at least a week
The first of the current crop of babies made his appearance four weeks early last week, but all is well, and all manner of thing is well, and we rejoice. Henry, his name is to be. It's been some time since we baptized a Henry!
And T., who has had such a savage struggle with postpartum distresses over the last year, has been appearing quietly in church with her husband and children for some weeks now.
And on Sunday, she shared Holy Communion with us again.
And T., who has had such a savage struggle with postpartum distresses over the last year, has been appearing quietly in church with her husband and children for some weeks now.
And on Sunday, she shared Holy Communion with us again.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
a fine moment...
After the wedding this afternoon I skibbled over to Major Supermarket with Bakery and found 2 1/4 slab decent looking cakes, one with pink roses, one with blue. After some negotiation I bought them both and was allowed to leave them in the store's cooler for pickup later.
There was an Affable Youth at the bakery counter who took them from me for safekeeping. On the off chance I asked whether it was too late to have anything written on them.
"Well," he said, "I can TRY: I'm not a Normal Cake Person, but I can try." I suggested he was an Extraordinary Cake Person and left him to it, to write "Happy Baptism" on both of them.
At the wedding reception one of my fellow guests asked, "Did you tell him how to SPELL baptism?" and expressed skepticism when I said I thought he could handle it.
Sure enough, the lettering is correct and tidy ... I was congratulating him on being able to spell "baptism."
"Oh hey," he said, "that's no problem, I was raised Catholic, eh? Heck, I can even spell RECONCILIATION!!!"
I laughed all the way back to the church... so thankful for these heart-comforting vignettes!
There was an Affable Youth at the bakery counter who took them from me for safekeeping. On the off chance I asked whether it was too late to have anything written on them.
"Well," he said, "I can TRY: I'm not a Normal Cake Person, but I can try." I suggested he was an Extraordinary Cake Person and left him to it, to write "Happy Baptism" on both of them.
At the wedding reception one of my fellow guests asked, "Did you tell him how to SPELL baptism?" and expressed skepticism when I said I thought he could handle it.
Sure enough, the lettering is correct and tidy ... I was congratulating him on being able to spell "baptism."
"Oh hey," he said, "that's no problem, I was raised Catholic, eh? Heck, I can even spell RECONCILIATION!!!"
I laughed all the way back to the church... so thankful for these heart-comforting vignettes!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
a tranquil moment
We've had two beautiful days, too warm even for a sweater...now in the early evening the clouds have moved in, there have been a few drops of rain, the wind is picking up...the dust smells--I guess the word would be "slaked"...very refreshing.
Up early to take Number One Son and Comely Friend, archaeologists both, to the airport...we had had a very pleasant dinner last night at Big Chain Steak House, sat long over our coffee...went to Big Chain Bookstore to see whether we could find the April 28th issue of the New Yorker with the fine review article on Herodotus. Pause to reflect that it's a pleasure to eat dinner and discuss things with young people who know how to pronounce "Herodotus." (I remember a line from an old, old, old, Saturday Evening Post story, in which a person of yokelish propensities commented, "Ah knowed a feller named Otis, one time, but Ah don't think his first name was Hee-Rod...")
Hustled up the road to MH & U from the airport...got to work on the paper pile on the desk. Sent off a letter severing our relationship with our janitorial contractor. Sent off a letter establishing a relationship with a NEW janitorial contractor. Reviewed Vestry minutes. Cleared up some e-mails. Made a few phone calls.
Away downtown to celebrate the noon Eucharist at the Cathedral...with a small congregation, but a bit of conversation with folks I know.
More paperwork and reading, confabs with my Building Committee guys about possible electrical anomalies in the building (pause to twitch all over)...confabs with the Knit-Wits over what to do with all the yarn we garnered from the Rummage Sale (including a lot of old-style Phentex, phew)...confab with a colleague who comes here to do spiritual direction once a month.
And now I'm waiting to see whether anyone shows up for Bible study. If not...HOMEWARDS at a rate of knots, and some housework. I'm on my own now until early July, when the Son Unit returns from his "dig." Just me and the frowsy old cat!
Enquiries from a parishioner or two about the most recent round of "defections" to the Church of the Southern Cone. May I go on record here as stating that I have no objection whatever to senior clergy, bishops, professors of theology, etc., putting themselves under the jurisdiction of the Church of the Southern Cone, PROVIDED that they remove themselves, physically and materially, at the earliest possible date, to Patagonia its own self. And stay there.
Again, I am reminded of a long-ago conversation overheard on a train on British Rail. It was when Bernadette Devlin of fading memory was making all kinds of headlines as an MP for an Ulster riding. One of my fellow passengers OPINED that both Ms. Devlin and the Rev. Dr. Ian Paisley ("both of them, mark you, not one, OR the other, but BOTH") should be transported to the Andaman Islands...
Up early to take Number One Son and Comely Friend, archaeologists both, to the airport...we had had a very pleasant dinner last night at Big Chain Steak House, sat long over our coffee...went to Big Chain Bookstore to see whether we could find the April 28th issue of the New Yorker with the fine review article on Herodotus. Pause to reflect that it's a pleasure to eat dinner and discuss things with young people who know how to pronounce "Herodotus." (I remember a line from an old, old, old, Saturday Evening Post story, in which a person of yokelish propensities commented, "Ah knowed a feller named Otis, one time, but Ah don't think his first name was Hee-Rod...")
Hustled up the road to MH & U from the airport...got to work on the paper pile on the desk. Sent off a letter severing our relationship with our janitorial contractor. Sent off a letter establishing a relationship with a NEW janitorial contractor. Reviewed Vestry minutes. Cleared up some e-mails. Made a few phone calls.
Away downtown to celebrate the noon Eucharist at the Cathedral...with a small congregation, but a bit of conversation with folks I know.
More paperwork and reading, confabs with my Building Committee guys about possible electrical anomalies in the building (pause to twitch all over)...confabs with the Knit-Wits over what to do with all the yarn we garnered from the Rummage Sale (including a lot of old-style Phentex, phew)...confab with a colleague who comes here to do spiritual direction once a month.
And now I'm waiting to see whether anyone shows up for Bible study. If not...HOMEWARDS at a rate of knots, and some housework. I'm on my own now until early July, when the Son Unit returns from his "dig." Just me and the frowsy old cat!
Enquiries from a parishioner or two about the most recent round of "defections" to the Church of the Southern Cone. May I go on record here as stating that I have no objection whatever to senior clergy, bishops, professors of theology, etc., putting themselves under the jurisdiction of the Church of the Southern Cone, PROVIDED that they remove themselves, physically and materially, at the earliest possible date, to Patagonia its own self. And stay there.
Again, I am reminded of a long-ago conversation overheard on a train on British Rail. It was when Bernadette Devlin of fading memory was making all kinds of headlines as an MP for an Ulster riding. One of my fellow passengers OPINED that both Ms. Devlin and the Rev. Dr. Ian Paisley ("both of them, mark you, not one, OR the other, but BOTH") should be transported to the Andaman Islands...
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