St. Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556)

Inspired today by this saint...(and have fond memories of being in Montserrat...think it's time to dig out those spiritual exercises again):

The founder of the Jesuits was on his way to military fame and fortune when a cannon ball shattered his leg. Because there were no books of romance on hand during his convalescence, he whiled away the time reading a life of Christ and lives of the saints. His conscience was deeply touched, and a long, painful turning to Christ began. Having seen the Mother of God in a vision, he made a pilgrimage to her shrine at Montserrat (near Barcelona).

He remained for almost a year at nearby Manresa, sometimes with the Dominicans, sometimes in a pauper's hospice, often in a cave in the hills praying. After a period of great peace of mind, he went through a harrowing trial of scruples. There was no comfort in anything: prayer, fasting, sacraments, penance. At length, his peace of mind returned. It was during this year of conversion that he began to write down material that later became his greatest work, the Spiritual Exercises.

He finally achieved his purpose of going to the Holy Land, but could not remain, as he planned, because of the hostility of the Turks. He spent the next 11 years in various European universities, studying with great difficulty, beginning almost as a
child. Like many others, he fell victim twice to the suspicions of the time, and
was twice jailed for brief periods.

In 1534, at the age of 43, he and six others (one of whom was St. Francis Xavier) vowed to live in poverty and chastity and to go to the Holy Land. If this became impossible, they vowed to offer themselves to the apostolic service of the pope. The latter became the only choice. Four years later Ignatius made the association permanent. The new Society of Jesus was approved by Paul III, and Ignatius was elected to serve as the first general.

When companions were sent on various missions by the pope, Ignatius remained in Rome, consolidating the new venture, but still finding time to found homes for orphans, catechumens and penitents. He founded the Roman College, intended to be the model of all other colleges of the Society. Ignatius was a true mystic. He centered his spiritual life on the essential foundations of Christianity: the Trinity, Christ, the Eucharist.

Thanks for praying....

Romans 3:21-22
Jeremiah 33:6-9
Hebrews: 9:28

I'm always amazed at how many times I can read a passage of scripture and new things come to life for me. I'm amazed that my heart can soften even further to the Word as it seems to leap from the pages of my bible (NLT is the preferred version for me, but I have several I regularly meander through to confirm my understanding).

From time to time, I receive scripture references from friends. From those who love Jesus and feel prompted to send a word or two after they have been praying or thinking of me. There are few things make my day brighter. Partly because of the surprise they bring... and partly because it reminds how easily He can send a clear word, even when I'm not particularly listening...

It shouldn't surprise me really. I've been waken out of bed, or simply stopped in the middle of my busy work day, with a clear impression to pray for someone. Often it's for someone I know...but sometimes its for someone I've never met, and for those in countries and situations that seem so far away. I used to brush those moments aside, wondering about whether it was my imagination....or just a faint recollection from something I'd been reading. But it's more than imagination. More than sentimental notions stemming from fatigue...

I've read several books and notes trying to answer 'why pray?' Some are from the perspective of "what's in it for me?", some from the perspective of theologians directly trying to answer the theorectial questions in a systematic manner. Popular books on the topic and old texts as well. While I'm willing to learn from all of those views, my heart simply enjoys those moments of simple fellowship when honest words are shared as an offering to Jesus.

So, from one of my favourite books:

Christ, the Son of God made man, is the Father's one perfect, and unsurpassable Word. In him he has said everything..... (CCC65)

Jesus, you are the eternal Word of God who comes to meet me in the Scriptures. Jesus, you are the Word made flesh, the bread of life, who nourishes me in the Eucharist. In you, Lord, I have everything.

Jesus is the Word to be spoken.
Jesus is the truth to be told.
Jesus is the was to be walked.
Jesus is the light to be lit.
Jesus is the life to be lived.
Jesus is the love to be loved...
Jesus is my life.
Jesus is my only love.
Jesus is my all in all.
Jesus is my everything.

(from a prayer by Mother Teresa)

A quote from St. Lawrence of Brindisi

I've been away for a few days, visiting with some friends and being in the mountains of Alberta. I'll post again soon. In the meantime, here's something that I've been thinking about:

God is love, and all his operations proceed from love.

Once he wills to manifest that goodness

by sharing his love outside himself,

then the Incarnation becomes

the supreme manifestation

of his goodness and love and glory.

So, Christ was intended

before all other creatures

and for his own sake.

For him all things were created

and to him all things must be subject,

and God loves all creatures in and because of Christ.

Christ is the first-born of every creature,

and the whole of humanity as well as the created world

finds its foundation and meaning in him.

Moreover, this would have been the case

even if Adam had not sinned.

St. Lawrence of Brindisi, Doctor of the Universal Church

Happy Birthday Dad

I'm kind of glad that I don't really have a theme yet for this blog. It leaves me completely open to share the moments from any given day. Today was full of all kinds of busyness....but for a brief few moments I called my dad. He turns 74 today.

I should have sung Happy B-day...we too quickly got into some business (some things just don't change I guess). He was glad just to hear my voice...and that I remembered.

Funny thing is, we just had his party yesterday (for my sister-in-law too). Doesn't matter how old we get, we still get together and exchange gifts. This time it had a different feeling for me. Rather than the formal dinners we sometimes do, it was bbq burgers (the gas even ran out and we finished them on the stove). Salads and corn on the cob. Neices and nephews running around, plates turned over when the wind gushed unexpectedly. Chaos, but fun to hear the 'whoa' in unison as Sarah's plate tumbled off of the deck. Then raspberry picking - the first of the season. Banana cake and icecream for desert.

It was a fun afternoon. A great day with family.

Funny how much home can feel like home, so many years later.

Terracotta Warriors

A friend spoke out this image today during a time of prayer. He was reluctant to share it, but as soon as he started speaking, something stirred in my heart. He had been praying, as others were praying for a variety of nations. We hadn't mentioned China... so this seemed to come up out of the blue. But the more he tried to set it aside, the clearer the impression became for him. He's a shy man, but he felt he just had to speak. And so he did.

He said only a few words. He looked for recognition in someones eyes..."do you know what I mean, those clay soldiers?" A few heads nodded. And then he simply said that he believed it was time for the church to rise up from the dust. He nodded himself, apparently pleased with that being enough said and sat down again.

But his words echoed for me.

A buried army, made with toxins...at the hands of men. Qin's Armies
"Funerary art " ...an immobilized but perfected army...returning to dust.
A very curious world heritage that has me thinking....

As I've meandered through this day, my thoughts drift to all the things in my own life that are like those clay statues. The wood, hay, and stubble that will eventually be burned away.... all those things that are done of myself. Even the words we speak without waiting for the Lord. Those monumental arts commemorating death. My hope is to be more like Joshua. Waiting at the tent of meeting, for the Lord. Not stirring, not saying anything, until He moves.

My prayer today is simply to rise up.
To honour the Holy Spirit that is in me.
Be fully alive in Christ.
And to wait upon the Lord.

(I pray that for you also.)

Psalm 24

This Town

I've been a bit buried by work again. Lots of projects, deadlines galore...and somehow I'm in the middle of a lot of them. Treading water and dealing with the most urgent of the day's crises. When it gets like that, I don't have much time to read the paper, or listen to the news. But this week was a bit different. And I was struck again by a number of articles, and I'm again praying for those I've met downtown.

For a season, I walked and prayed through the streets of our city core. I used to be there a lot. Just walking, praying... even serving meals and worshipping in one of the churches whose goal was just to be a bright spot for those who were rejected in so many ways. The people I met along the way touched my heart. Their stories were often dramatic and sometimes they were just stories. Mostly they were appreciative of someone who would listen, even just for a moment.

The news this week has brought me back to those days, and back to my knees again...

This week I've been praying for:
a) The family and friends of a girl who was found in a motel room. (Good bye Nikki).
b) A 52 year old drummer who was beaten and left on the street. The bus driver, turned good Samaritan who helped him. The two teens who kicked and pounded him with a weight. The two teens who fled the scene.
c) Wellington street residents who have witnessed so much this year.
d) The officers who diligently work for our protection and witness so much in the process.
e) Paramedics who calmly work in difficult moments.

There are others too.
But those are the ones that are on my heart at the moment.

I hope to stop downtown later today. Pray again at the clock tower.

I love this town.

Gifts from Israel...and thoughts of many nations.

Last week I connected with a friend who had recently been in Israel. We haven't had much chance to connect, but when we do it is always so rich. She is a dear sister to me, and we just bubble over each time we meet.

This time we actually had time to sit and talk...for several hours. We shared stories and laughed, and I cried. The waitress we had was amazing. It made me think of other servers who have encountered such visits and their perfect timing with more water...a desert menu...or a cup of tea. We were in my home town this time, at "Jane Bond"...and as the dinner crowd shifted into the student night life we told stories of what Jesus was doing in our lives.

We both had lots to share. Somehow I am still amazed that He is so alive and active in all of our lives, so uniquely with each of us. Sometimes I wonder if that is how it is for everyone knows Him....and I pray that it is. At least it seems that way with each person I've had the chance to visit this year...there seems something so fresh and wonderful. Stories of personal growth and pilgrimage fill the pages of our conversations. I'm usually blessed by the firey new life in their eyes...and I hope my friends see the same in me.

On this particular night, this friend asked me to follow her to her car, just for a minute. Surprise! She produced a little plastic bag and a bottle of wine. Wonderful gifts unceremoniously wrapped... but that made me smile all the more...inside were lovingly hand-selected items...presented with the biggest of smiles...and so much love. She asked me to wait until I got home before peaking inside...which I did. And I'm glad I did.

Inside were several little treasures... including a coffee mug (about all I'll share). But I remember standing in my kitchen as I opened the gifts. I stopped for a long time...just holding my breath. Until I heard the Lord say..."breathe. It's time to breathe".

There were other whispers in those gifts that went straight to my heart as well. Eventually, I heard myself say... "I remember"....and, "Je me souviens". I was surprised to hear both languages (it's been so long since I've spoken French). But in that moment I remembered the many places I've shared coffee with friends on the journey... and the places and people I have yet to see. This friend may not know it, but her gifts to me have helped me hold onto the promises Jesus has whispered to my heart over the years.

Those whispers have been coming in different ways almost every day this past week. When a gift arrived in the mail (a special coin from Israel)... I gave in...and I gave thanks again. Humbled by my doubt when faced with His faithfulness. Surprised at how easily I get wrapped up with distractions, and how consistent the reminders to press in... just to stay on the path, in spite of everything which seems contrary.

I do believe Jesus will take me to some new places. Clearly Israel has been on my heart again. But there are other places I'd like to go as well. In time, as the Lord wills.

So with fond memories of walking on far away shores, and my own precious lands...and dreaming of new places to journey, I'm again celebrating the nations. It's so fun to do that.

Especially this year as we in Canada remember the founding of Quebec City...the birth place of this young but beautiful nation. I enjoyed hearing the bells chiming together last week. All across the provinces and territories, celebrating when foreigners came to these shores. I love hearing bells...they always reminds me of Christmas morning, no matter what season it is...

And with that, I'll leave you with this song...I hope you celebrate Quebec & Canada this week too.

Oh Canada

I'm listening to a broadcast and a number of Canadians mumble their way through the national anthem (mumbling in two languages). But it makes me smile.

I remember celebrating at a local grade school in my home town. I remember being a parade marshall in my university days. I remember sitting with friends other years. But one year still stands out from the others - that year was the first time I celebrated on parliament hill.

I was a co-op student in Ottawa. I was supposed to be working for an oil company in Alberta that summer. But my friend took that job and I went off in another direction. As I sit here tonight, I remember walking through the streets, the massive crowds....and remember one very bold dance troup who split crowds in the street.

It was the most unusual sight amid the balloons and hot dog carts. There was this group, much skilled in mime, but in much more dramatic costume. They portrayed, silently, the passion of Christ. Jesus Christ crucified on the cross. A profound juxtaposition with the festivities of the day. I don't know if the others who watched were affected by their silent but bold proclamation of Jesus, and of God the Father as he looked on his son during the crucifixion. I was deeply moved by the drama before me. Whispers were loudly echoing in my heart the whole time. Twenty years later, it still moves me.

I watch the crowd this year, I wonder if anyone was out touching the hearts of others in a similar way. I know of one friend whose purpose today was simply to share the good news, as a friend.... He does this every day, but today was special for him... I look forward to hearing his stories. "Just seeds," he says. But good seeds. And sometimes, in the hardest of hearts, they take root.

Tonight, I am thankful for those who reached out to me so long ago.