God in all things

I grew up summers on this lake and loved it more than anything. I still do. I think it is where I fell in love with water and why when I am inconsolable, being near water helps. When I am near waves, I feel calm and centred. Alternatively, the waves are wild and spirited. They can heal or harm.

I am remembering one year on the east coast of the United States where I was living at the time, playing in the waves and getting smacked down. I was lucky to walk away with only having broken my nose and not my neck. Prairie girls really know very little of the power of the sea and yet this lake certainly is not only a source of joy but also a stronghold that can shatter lives. Every summer someone usually drowns on this lake. It is a force with which to be reckoned.

As I stood on the shore of this beach where I spent a decade or so of summers, I marveled at how much it had been built up. These chairs, for example, would never have found their way there. Beach blankets or lawn chairs scattered the beach then. Bushes to hide in are replaced by large cottages that look like year-round homes. The ice-cold stream that filtered into the lake which kept our drinks cold on the hottest of days was completely gone. I did not know whether to marvel or mope at all the changes. My childhood images were completely gone, except for the lake.

On the long weekend this beach would have been a busy hive of activity and yet I stood alone on the beach, not a soul in sight. I was tempted only for a moment to sit in one of these pods of colour but I somehow did not feel welcomed. I felt more like the beach belonged to an exclusive club now. I remembered my first real summer crush, catching frogs, smelling wild roses, and building sand castles as I stood there. None of these remained. What happened to those frogs and roses? Certainly someone must still build sand castles here? And what about that boy that stole my heart all those years ago? What was he now doing?

All of us should have somewhere we can return to in our minds–a happy place, as they call it. This was certainly one of mine. My siblings and I spent endless hours here each July and August. We were sunkissed and free. Nothing could harm us then–or so we thought. The world seemed so stunningly beautiful and life so easy-going. That is my memory now. I am not sure that is accurate. Our memories are coloured just like these chairs. Nonetheless it was a joy to stand again on those sands, shifted as they were, and remember a carefree time.

Peace,

Suzanne

While I traveled I could not help but think about how extraordinary the work ethic of people must have been back then. In a time without all the machinery we currently have, how did great cathedrals get built? How long did sculptors spend on a piece? Where did the perfect slab of marble come from and how did it arrive at this spot?

Today we also labour long and hard, just differently. We still create works of beauty and use our talents to help society excel in different ways. Labour Day is meant to recognize those who have literally helped pave the way and to rest from labour and express our gratitude for the work that we have.

As the new year arises tomorrow, I am grateful for all that has been and all that will be. I have spent some time musing about how best to use my gifts this fall and how to find a balance of work and rest. This summer was a good change for me and an opportunity to explore new places but it was not much of a rest. I hope that I will learn the secret of balance some day. In the meantime, bring on the new year and give me all I need to serve You well, God. Help me to look for you in all things, at all times.

Peace,

Suzanne

Today is the Passion of Saint John the Baptist and the Gospel story unfolds as Herod’s desires get the best of him and before he knows it, he is completely undone by his word. The daughter or Herodias dances and his desires damn his intentions. She requests the head of John the Baptist–on a platter no less.

The king cannot go back on his word and delivers John’s head to her who in turn gifts it to her mother. I have wondered at times of the nightmares that must have befallen this young woman. Even in the photo here, one gets a sense that a beheading is not a pleasant event. Did she look John in his lifeless eyes and wonder what it was her mother hated about this man? Was she repulsed at what she had done? Did it haunt her for the rest of her life? One action and one response is all it took to set the stage for sin. She had pleased Herod and his guests and he was wooed to insensibility. Isn’t that how we all fall? One moment of forgetfulness of Whose we are and What we believe? We too lose our head in the heat of the moment.

When was the last time your desires led you down a path you did not want to go? When did your actions have a devastating effect on someone else?

Peace,

Suzanne

One of the disappointing factors on this recent vacation of mine was not to see and listen to this current pope. In yesterday’s message to the crowds, he asked people not to gossip within the church. Sometimes when we get pooped on, we retaliate by spewing not so pleasant stories out of our own mouths. I like this current pope and how he is navigating the needs of the Church today. He uses humour when he chastises his people, suggesting that we do not need to cut out our tongues but we do need to watch them more carefully.

I look forward to hearing what other thought-provoking words he has for us. In the meantime, I am going to try to put his wise counsel into practice this fall.

How about you? What flows from your mouth?

Peace,

Suzanne

Several places I went to in Europe tourists had put locks on landmarks to memorialize their visits. Is there a piece of us that longs to be here once we are gone? My uncle and so many others who have gone before have left part of their lives here through the people and places they love. They will not be forgotten. Throw away the key and live fully. Your life is your gift and will remain in the hearts of those you touch and change. 

Peace,

Suzanne

In yesterday’s Gospel, Jesus asks his beloved friends who they say He is. Peter responds with “You are the Christ.” Who we are to one another varies.  Some days we can recognize the Christ in those around us; other days we are the Christ. Some days we build the kingdom and are the rock that others need. Some days we bear much fruit. 

I was thinking oddly enough at mass with my recently widowed aunt yesterday how people see each one another. I watched as other parishioners gave condolences to my aunt and was warmed at how they thought my uncle was a good man. An image came to my mind though as one woman who obviously did not know my uncle had passed talked about trivial things. In Hunger Games when one of the competitors dies, a cannon is fired off and everyone stops to look up at the image of the deceased that appears. That seems like such a fitting way to let the world know that someone has passed. Everyone stops for a moment and acknowledges the death of this person who has passed. The world pauses temporarily, long enough to shed a tear or shake their head, and then can carry on. 

Who do people say we are? Tomorrow my cousin will deliver the eulogy and we will hear who he thought my uncle was but each of the children have their own precious memories of my uncle. His wife will have similar ones but also more intimate memories of sharing 49 years together. There is not a lot you can hide when you live with someone for that length of time.  One of the dearest handles for believers is to be known as Jesus was-a son of the Living God.  My uncle wore that cloak well. May he rest In peace.

Peace,

Suzanne 

Endings are never easy. Even when you think you are somewhat prepared, reality still crashes in. I was in a deep sleep, still recovering from sleep deprivation and jet lag, when my mom called to let me know her brother had passed away. It took me a moment or two to comprehend that I was in my home, in bed, sound asleep and hearing the news. The past three weeks had been a change of scenery very few days so I was quite disoriented in answering the call.

We were expecting his passing as we had heard the end was near. It still does not make it any easier. My uncle was a fine man and I have good memories of being welcomed in his home from a very early age. His family is very close and it is a true testimony to his value system that family was gold to him.  He was a loving father and grandfather and a devoted husband. He was a son who was there for his aging mother.  He was a steadfast brother to his siblings.  He served well in his church and community. He enjoyed simple pleasures such as camping, board games, and the odd trip to the casino. He had opinions that were clear and not wishy-washy. Overall, the world lost a very good man yesterday. 

Now he has joined that great cloud of witnesses that goes before us to show us the way home. As with my grandmother I understand that sometimes he would throw open his arms as if to welcome someone unseen as he became sicker. I am sure he was greeted by Someone who had arms wide open to receive him Home. You’ll be missed, Uncle. May perpetual light shine upon you. 

Peace,

Suzanne