Dogs 2

     I have always had a dog, sometimes two, three even at one point. One of my favourite photos is me, as a toddler standing beside my very first dog, Trudy. I have been in love with dogs of every size, shape, breed and colour ever since. To me, they are the perfect companion: loyal, lively and loving. They are happy to be a part of almost anything that's going on except fireworks and thunderstorms but otherwise they are pretty low maintenance. Dogs can find fun in the simplest of things, even a stinky sock or an old tennis ball. If there are snacks involved, they are in, and they have a very loose definition of what constitutes snacks to my mind. They are not connoisseurs of what is edible but dogs know what they like and they like us, and other dogs, and sometimes cats and even squirrels if they can catch them. But they almost never do, thank goodness!

     I think that every occasion is improved by the presence of a dog, from a casual walk on the beach to a big family wedding (they can be awesome ring-bearers).
Dogs give us reasons to walk, to walk longer and more often, in all kinds of weather. They help us make new friends all the time just by making friends with one another, which usually happens quite quickly with just a bit of sniffing involved. They are great listeners and usually don't mind if your nose is wet or your breath is bad. I am not sure how a wild wolf evolved into the cute, fluffy dog that is our daughter's doodle Stella but I endorse the process one hundred percent. Most nights she is crowding me out of our king size bed but I don't mind. What can I say? I love dogs!

Alzheimer’s

     I walk quickly up the hall towards her; I see her in the distance and I wave, “Hi Mum, hi, how are you?”,  I call out. I walk towards her and she, in a wheelchair, puts her hands up in the air and then brings them down to her face as if to say “Oh my goodness!” and then she declares “You found me! How did you find me? How did you know that I was here? I knew that you would come!” She is incredulous, amazed, blown away even. She clutches my father’s hands and can’t let go; we are something familiar in a world where nothing is really familiar. She praises us and gives us compliments we don’t deserve: how smart, how clever, how amazing even we are to have found her….

     She gazes adoringly at my father and can hardly take her eyes off him. She holds his hands hungrily and drinks in the sight of him like someone parched and thirsty. She kisses his hands and asks him how he is; her concern for his health is deep and profound. He basks in it despite his incredible pain. I witness their love of seventy years and take photos for my siblings. We cannot respond to her pleas to go with us; we must distract her and speak of incidentals: the weather, the garden, the birdhouses.

     Before we go, I wheel her to her place at the table for lunch and grab a bib from the hamper to protect her clothes. I push her wheelchair into her spot and kiss her face. My father makes his way slowly to the doorway and waves to her from a distance. I walk away, fighting the urge to turn around and look at her once more. He and I find the path out the door into the sunshine and once again, we drive away, until next time.

Legacy 2

With the date of the anniversary of the consecration of our parish fast approaching, I have been thinking about our legacy and what it means to us as a parish and as individuals. The definition according to Google is: “A legacy is money or property left to someone in a will, or a lasting impact, tradition, or piece of technology handed down from the past.” The phrase “ a lasting impact” stands out to me as something seemingly abstract but actually quite tangible to those impacted. My time worshipping at the Church of the Holy Trinity has encouraged me to look around and notice, really notice all the names and dates and reasons that people are memorialized in our space. Whether because ashes were interred, grief was made visible or appreciation for the blessings received was expressed, all these stories are threads in the history and legacy of our lovely old church. They contribute to the furnishings and the worship we enjoy as well as reaffirming the faith that has sustained others before us.  

Parishioners have made gifts or bequests to Holy Trinity in the past and we have benefitted immensely from this. Whether by proceeds from a will or money for particular furnishings donated, the impact of this generosity is felt decades after the gift. Our church exists because of the faith and charity and love of the people that came before us; their belief in God, community and each other gives us the continuing legacy of the Church of the Holy Trinity. These lasting gifts empower our ministry today.

When I sit in the pew beside our family window at Silent Prayer, I feel a tangible connection to my Sephton relatives and a sense of peace. Knowing that this beautiful window will continue to shed light into our church building long after I have died also gives me a sense of peace. I love what all of us have built here over the 70 years since our consecration: a church where God is loved and worshipped and a place where everyone is welcome: our church home.  

Joy 2

     Tonight one of our regular Tuesday night silent prayers shared with us a scripture reading--- John 16:24 "Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be complete." It was a perfect complement to our evening; a perfect reference for prayer and praying. Another one of our regulars brought us a poster for a local event for peace and asked if we could display it. We are becoming a community! Although we meet in the almost dark, with no introductions, no name tags, no conversation even, we are used to coming together in a way that is regular, sacred and therefore joyous.

     There are regulars, people who sit in the usual places, parishioners who would not miss a week and folks who have never been through our door before. The number of people attending has climbed steadily but otherwise nothing has changed. There are a couple of lit candles and Gregorian chant but otherwise it is the same place, same day, same time. What has changed is that we are becoming a community. 

     Have you come to Silent Prayer? For me, it's calm, quiet, undemanding and remarkably fulfilling. Joy, or something like it....

 

Holy

      It's clear that the opening of our lovely little church on Tuesday evenings is doing something beautiful. We are enjoying being here on Tuesday evenings too. It seems to be a transformative experience now not just for us, but for the people it serves. Usually there are about a dozen people. Sometimes they stay for five minutes and sometimes for two hours but usually somewhere in between. Some folks pray quietly, some audibly, some cry, but most sit silently taking in the music, the peace, this space that is holy. Most light a candle or two.... We feel blessed to be part of this tiny but powerful ministry and feel that even if only one person shows up, the evening is a success and a blessing. Thank you for your support!

O God, the protector of all who trust in you, without whom nothing is strong, nothing is holy, increase and multiply upon us your mercy, that with you as our ruler and guide, we may so pass through things temporal, that we lose not the things eternal; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Brian

     The Reverend Brian Vickers and his family were such a welcome addition to the Anglican Church of the Holy Trinity community when they arrived in White Rock, B.C.. His lovely wife Sally, his beautiful little children Michael and Katie were all wonderful in their own way and such a blessing to our congregation!

     When first together, my husband Paul and I enjoyed Brian and his family and in turn felt so welcome at the Church of the Holy Trinity. Though their kids were older than ours there was a lovely feeling of community. Michael and Katie, our daughters and many treasured friends seemed to grow up together in the Sunday School there. 

     My parents were very attached to the church over the years as parishioners, choir members, wardens and caretakers and consider Brian and Sally as friends.

     Personally, I was very encouraged by Brian to follow my passion for pastoral care which eventually led to a career in hospice and palliative care. Paul and I were sad when Brian and his family left the area and we missed them all very much! We are thankful now to receive a Christmas card from the Vickers and are thrilled to see how their children's families have grown and flourished.

   We all congratulate Brian on his retirement! His years of ministry in many different parishes has positively affected so many lives and we thank Brian for his time with us and our community. We think of him and his family often and hope that our paths may cross yet again!

Light

     One of the spiritual practices that people enjoy at our church is lighting our votive candles. They have been installed in our Newcomers Chapel recently and are a welcome addition. The word votive comes from the Latin word “votum ” meaning vow or promise. Lighting a candle serves as a visible extension of a prayer. 

     Early Christians used candles to provide light for nighttime services. They quickly took on religious symbolism representing Christ as the light of the world.

John 8:12 tells us “Again, Jesus spoke to them, saying ‘I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.’”

     When I light a candle and invoke a loved one’s name, I take comfort in knowing that my prayer lives on, even after I have left the church. Jesus is the light of the world and the burning candle reminds me of His everlasting, ever living love for us all. Although I did not grow up with this faith expression, I am enjoying it and apparently others of us are appreciating it too.