I have a soon-to-be five year old nephew who I adore (as I adore all my nieces and nephews.)  He is also my Godson.  I had the privilege of baptizing him and on that celebration Sunday we certainly made a good pair.   He was a little baby all smiles and drool and I was a student minister all smiles and drool,  just cutting my teeth in ministry.

He was dressed in a family heirloom baptismal gown.  He was in his parent’s arms as his mom and dad stood at the front of the church answering the questions of faith.  Where they stood was over an old air grate. As they were answering, “Do you believe in God and in God’s love?” the air kicked on causing my nephew’s gown to flutter like it had suddenly come to life.   With the sudden rush of air it was like  the announcement was being made:  the Holy Spirit has arrived!

The Christian faith is something so precious and important to me.  I love to share it with others though increasingly in our cynical world I am shy to do so.  There are a lot of misconceptions about religious people (just look at the way Christians are portrayed in the Media and pop culture.)  I continue to come across biases even in my own extended family.  But since my nephew is also my Godson, technically speaking, I have permission to share my faith with him.

My husband and I got him a lectionary story bible as a gift at his baptism.  A year or so ago I got him a book of bible stories for young kids and found out that he loved the one about Daniel in the Lion’s Den.   This time I got him another book.

Now it isn’t a bible but it highlights the bible and beautifully describes and illustrates images of God.  So often the image of God for people is limited to the proverbial old man with a white beard sitting in the clouds.  Few take the time to explore the many ways that God is revealed in the Christian scriptures.

The book is called Images of God for Young Children by Marie-Helene Delval.  It is lovely. Because of today’s challenge, I plan on highlighting my favourite pages before giving the book to him.  My hope is that he’ll have his favourites, too.

There are a lot of great Bibles, and different versions depending on what you’re interested in.

One translation that I’m really enjoying right now is the Common English Version.  Another one that I find quite creative is called The Brick Testament  (the illustrations are all done in Lego)

What version do you read?

My husband and I try to be conscious consumers. As much as possible and wherever possible we try and buy fair trade and organic.  This of course can prove challenging but we feel it is worth the effort.

Jake orders our coffee beans (fair trade and organic) from a place in Toronto called the Green Beanery and he roasts them himself.

Our church serves fair trade coffee on Sundays. We have a woman within our congregation who makes sure that fair trade coffee is available for serving on Sundays during the time of fellowship after service.  She also sells, with the help of enthusiastic youth, fair trade Camino chocolate bars.

Thanks to people like her many of us are becoming increasingly aware of the importance of buying fair trade coffee and chocolate.

In addition to coffee and chocolate there are many other items that we can find “fair trade” including clothing, jewelry, fresh cut flowers, and soap, to name a few.

One of my favourite stores is Ten Thousand Villages, the oldest and largest fair trade organization in North America.  I buy many Christmas and birthday presents from them, my cupboard is stocked with many of their spices, and I have numerous accessories in my jewelry box and around the house that came from that store.  If you don’t know about Ten Thousand Villages let me introduce you because you don’t know what you’re missing.

Ten Thousand Villages is an independent non-profit fair trade charitable organization in partnership with the Mennonite Central Committee (MCC) that markets handcrafted products from around the world. Products are brought into the North American market through long-term, fair trading relationships.

Ten Thousand Villages was started in 1946 by a woman named Edna Ruth Byler who wanted to provide sustainable economic opportunities for products from developing countries in North America.  From selling products to friends out of her trunk, 65 years later there are 45 Ten Thousand Village stores in Canada and several in the U.S. You can also order products online.

I love this store for numerous reasons.  The focus of the business is on building relationships of dignity, and respect that support artisans in earning a decent living for the work they do.   The products Ten Thousand Villages sell are unique and each one has a story.  For any product they sell you can read about the artisan group that made it, who they are, where they are from and what they are about.  For instance, at Christmas I purchased a lovely owl ornament.  It was made by the artisan group Manos Amigas ( meaning “hands joined in friendship”) from Lima, Peru.  It began as a group to help disadvantaged children in their area and today twenty percent of Manos Amigas’ annual surplus is donated to a program that feeds and supports disadvantaged children in their community.

As a Christian, I know that the decisions I make about how I spend my money are not disconnected from my faith.  Jesus talked more about money and possessions than he talks about any other subject.  He knew that how we spend our money affects the welfare of others, our world, and us.  I think Jesus talked about money so much because he knew that we needed the reminders not to put our love of stuff over our love of God and neighbour.

Buying fair trade is one of the ways I can live my faith.

For more information check out www.tenthousandvilllages.ca and if you are a coffee lover, see the fair trade organic selection at www.greenbeanery.ca (or pop into the gym after service at Westminster U.C.  We’d love to see you!)

You don’t have to ask me twice to grab a cup of coffee.  I’d say it’s one of my favourite hobbies.  Anytime I go visiting, I offer to pick up coffee (or tea) to take along with me.  It’s nice to sit and chat and share a cup.  There is something about the aroma and the comfort of holding the warm liquid that makes any visit feel warmer.

This morning I was thankful for grabbing a “cuppa.”   I accompanied Jake to a medical appointment in downtown Toronto.  He’s a cancer survivor and as a result there are always tests and appointments to go to.

The appointment was at 7:15 a.m. so we had to be sure to leave our house at 6:00 a.m. to get there in time. It was cold and dark this morning and I was nervous, which seemed to make the cold and dark seem that much more pronounced.  I could only imagine how Jake—the one actually going through the procedure—was feeling.

We traveled to the city together.  On our way we stopped at a coffee shop to pick up a giant latté to share for the road.  This was non-negotiable.   I am not a morning person by nature but with some coffee I can sort of fake it.

As we drove into the city the coffees eased the cold, the caffeine chased away some of the grogginess, and our conversation eased the nervousness.  We talked about what was happening with work, with family, with things in general.  It was nice to have the time to catch up.  We talked very little about the pending procedure.

We sipped the coffee all the way into the city where we managed to find a parking spot within walking distance of our destination.  It was cold and the first blast of wind on my face made me glad that at least my belly was still warm from the heat of the coffee.

While at the hospital I waited in the waiting area and played Plants vs. Zombies on my iPad.  It’s a game where a backyard becomes a battleground as plants fight to destroy zombies before they can make it to the house.  There was something strangely symbolic about playing that game in the hospital, a place that itself is a battleground where the common objective is indeed to keep various invaders at bay.

I made it through 20 rounds of zombies before Jake came back to the waiting area.

It was only 8:30 a.m…. too early to stop by the Big Carrot, too early for sushi, too early to catch a movie.

Happily, it wasn’t too early for a coffee.   And thus began our ride home.

I’m putting these two 40acts entries into one.

You can call it cheating but honestly,  it just worked out this way because tonight (Friday night) we had a get together and generations crossed.  Six young people from our congregation are participating in a confirmation class that I am leading.  We met this evening.   That’s right.   A group of young men, ages 14 to 18, gave up their Friday night to talk about faith and this church of ours.

I’ve heard more than once from some people at the church that this is a smaller number of individuals than what has been in confirmation classes in previous years.  It seems to be to be said with disappointment and just a bit of nostalgia, with a tone that reminds me of how my Dad sounds when he reflects on how there is less hair on his head now as compared to previous years.  Sigh.

When people express lament I try to understand but between you and me, I don’t really get it.  Because I don’t see the problem.  Did I mention there are 6 teenagers who gave up their Friday night to talk about faith?

When I think about crossing generations I think about honouring individuals and situations as we find them.   It’s okay to be sad about the fact that things aren’t what they used to be… ‘twas ever thus.  But if I had approached those young people who had given up their Friday evening and said in a discouraged tone, “We used to have a lot more youth in confirmation…(sigh).” I’d effectively be giving them the message, “You guys are okay, but….not really.”

Thinking about “what used to be” just keeps us locked in the time of “what used to be” and we miss the time of this moment.  And this moment is the one that God has given us.

In this moment God has blessed us.  I want the youth to know how their presence matters, how valuable their questions are and how important they are in this community of faith.   I want them to know that they each bring unique interests and skills and perspectives that no one else, past or future, embodies in exactly the same way.  I want them to know how impressed and how grateful I am that they are willing to share their time and stories.

And finally, I want them to know that as far as get-togethers go spending a Friday evening with a group of fun, thoughtful, and inquisitive youth certainly tops the list!

Day Seven’s task involved going to a pub, the point being to gather in a casual environment to connect with God and with one another, to start a conversation.

I like pubs. I like connecting with God and friends. Clearly this was a task for me!

A colleague and friend had an idea that for this 40acts task a few of us ministers get together and go out to a local pub wearing our clerical collars. No details confirmed I nevertheless wore my clerical shirt, collar tucked in my pocket at the ready just in case.

Yesterday also marked the beginning of Lenten Lunches hosted by an ecumenical lectionary group that I’m a part of. These are casual lunches during lent when members of various churches in the area (United, Presbyterian, Lutheran) gather together for worship and a simple lunch of soup, bread, coffee, tea and cookies. There is prayer, a time of reflection, and the singing of hymns.. It all happens at a local church in the downstairs hall.

The church it is held at doesn’t have a lot of parking and there was a traffic jam as car after car stopped to drop off Lenten Lunchers. I had to laugh as a car behind me became impatient and honked the horn, obviously tired of waiting for me to turn left. Granted, I could have turned. It just would have meant running down a group of old ladies trying to make their way to the church. I can see the headlines now….

When at last I managed to find a parking spot a few blocks away, I had just enough time to make it to the church before lunch started. I was directed downstairs to a hall where tables had been set up, family-style. There was a hum of activity as people gathered. Friends chatting with old friends and meeting new acquaintances. Soup bubbled. Music played. Chairs filled. We prayed, ate and shared.

Aside from my colleagues from the lectionary group I didn’t know anyone there. But I was welcomed at a table with some lively and lovely Presbyterians. We broke bread together, shared our names and a bit of our story.

40acts still on my mind, when I got back to the office I checked my email to see if a few of us could still get together at a Pub. No such luck. Everyone was busy.

Oh well, I thought. I’ll just have to wait for another time to connect with others and God in a casual environment.

I’ve been asked by members of our Conference to mentor a young woman considering ministry. At first, I thought, “Who me…a mentor? Don’t you have to be old and full of wisdom to do that?”

And while I often feel old, I rarely if ever feel wise, which in my estimation leaves me only half qualified to take on a role of such import.

As I’m not entirely sure what a mentor is (besides a buzz word in leadership circles these days) I decided to look it up. Apparently, in Greek mythology the goddess Athena disguised herself as Mentor (a friend of Odysseus) and in that form gave encouragement and advice to a young man named Telemachus. Thus, according to Wikipedia “the personal name Mentor has been adopted in English as a term meaning someone who imparts wisdom to and shares knowledge with a less experienced colleague.”

Who knew?

Sounds to me like mentor could also mean “goddess in disguise.”

Seeking outside counsel I talked with Jake about mentoring and what he thought it was all about. He reflected that becoming a good mentor involves building trust and rapport. And “it requires the most precious of things… time.”

“Do you consider yourself a mentor,” I asked him.

“I never really thought about it, but I guess I am. I offer mentorship to my students, those who are open to it anyway, just like you offer mentorship to the congregation.”

I think he could tell I was unconvinced, especially regarding me being a mentor.

“You know when the kids at church come up to you and share stuff that’s happened in their week, and you listen? You’re being a mentor. Or when you talk to them about being kind to one another and then show them what that’s like by being kind to them. You’re being a mentor.”

He continued. “And you know how when we first got together you had never been camping in Algonquin? Never been in the back country?”

My mind went back to this past Sunday’s service when I preached on being in the wilderness…If you want to know who you are and what you’re made of, go into the wilderness…for which I used examples from personal experience of being in the wilds of Algonquin, leeches and all. Apparently, my sermon made quite an impression effectively convincing more than one person in my congregation never to go camping. Oops.

“Okay, so what about camping?”

“Well, you didn’t really know what you were doing at first, right?”

I waited to see where he was going.

He grinned. “But I did, and thanks to my mentorship, you got better at it.”

It’s true. Jake really helped me appreciate the outdoors in a new way. And with him by my side I had increased confidence to try things I hadn’t before…like carrying a 55 lb. canoe along with a 50 lb. pack over rocky terrain, or hanging bear bags, or paddling hard into a head wind. His quiet confidence in me, “You got this,” was an anchor especially in those moments of complete self-doubt. His advice to “Hold the paddle this way,” and directions to, “Stay calm,” when times called for it provided moments of learning and clarity.

Jake said that being a mentor involved trust, rapport and time. He’s right. And it involves sharing what you know and what you love with someone else–offering it openly and gladly without expectation. What a privilege.

It made me think about that young woman considering ministry. The wilds of ministry. I do love it, and suddenly, the thought of supporting someone discover their way within it is enormously appealing and humbling.

Jake said he’d like to think that some of my love of the outdoors and of camping (and I do love camping) has come from his mentorship. I hadn’t thought about it before, but he is absolutely right. He was willing to spend time with me in the wilderness…and truth be known, it has made all the difference in the world.

Okay, I confess. I read the Huffington Post, the Toronto Star and the Globe and Mail (all online) but don’t often take the time to really read the local paper. We get one on our doorstep once a week and I glance through it, but I don’t really sit down and read it. Besides (and I know this won’t make me popular to admit) I have a prejudice that the local paper is often filled with kitch and not the kind of news that a “serious person” would be concerned with (says the person who can’t pass up a headline about the latest celebrity gossip…serious news indeed!) Like so many other things, when it comes to reading the news, whether local or other, I tend to choose what interests me and leave the rest.

But this Lenten task really required me to sit down and read… and pray. This is a very different method to my usual “glance-and-discard” technique. Since we didn’t have a local paper on hand I went to the local paper online.

I wasn’t able to do it all in one sitting but a few sittings over the course of the day. This meant that over the course of the day I prayed for local schools, UOIT and Durham College, for the Humane Society, and an organization called Footprints. I prayed for teens who had been mugged and the teens who did the mugging; for a Good Samaritan who was treated with suspicion and the person who was suspicious; for local artists and a Canadian exchange student overseas. I gave thanks for students willing to “Get Swabbed” to help find matches for those waiting for bone marrow transplants and for police who stuffed themselves with purple pancakes to raise awareness for Epilepsy. I prayed over music groups and opinions and lives well lived and lives cut short. All of this in my own backyard. Through prayer (and the power of the Holy Spirit) I didn’t just read about the community, I became connected to it.

Maybe it should come as no surprise then that as I drove home from work, I felt a deepened sense of appreciation for the streets on which I traveled including the people and places on them. I was grateful for the person in that police car, and the teachers at that school, and the teenagers at that bus stop.

Something had changed: they were no longer out there…they were in here.

Maybe that explains why my heart felt so full.

This was not something I was happy to see in my mailbox: get uncomfortable. I find that enough happens in my day that is uncomfortable, why would I want to deliberately seek it out?

Of course, that’s the introvert in me talking.

I briefly wondered if this blogging thing might qualify as getting uncomfortable because I’ll be honest, it is uncomfortable. Putting out my thoughts for others to read and pick apart…I mean, appreciate. (I’m not even courageous enough to post my entries right away…I just save them up in a doc file until I feel ready…I haven’t felt ready yet, funny thing that). But all this cogitating was really just an excuse to avoid the task at hand.

My husband, Jake, and I had to head out to get some groceries at an organic place we know about near Markham. We decided to stop at Starbucks to get a coffee for the drive. While in the drive thru line it came to me, “Let’s pay for order of the people behind us.” I’ve never done such a thing before and funny as it sounds I was nervous, uncomfortable, you could say. I usually abide by that unspoken rule that you leave people alone. I guess I just assumed people preferred it that way. Paying for someone’s coffee wasn’t super intrusive, but it wasn’t leaving them alone either.
We told the barista that we’d like to look after paying for the car behind us.

“No problem,” she said, as if it happened all the time. Does it happen all the time?

On our way to Markham the snow started to really come down and we saw a car along the side of the road. We drove past, and then I thought that maybe they needed help. So we turned the car around. Again, I was nervous. Likely they were okay…I really didn’t need to bother them…it’s easier (for them? for me?) to just keep driving.

But we pulled up on the side of the road just behind the stopped car.

It was a young couple and they were having car trouble.

We asked if we could help and the man smiled. He said that a tow truck was already on the way but thanked us for stopping. “You’re sure you don’t need anything?” Jake asked. Again the young man thanked us but said they were okay.

The exchange was brief. Perhaps it made a difference, I don’t know. Actually, I do. It made a difference for me. And maybe that’s a good place to start.

“The greatest thing is to give thanks for everything. He who has learned this knows what it means to live.” ~Albert Schweitzer, Reverence for Life

I remember getting a book when I was in first year university that was for keeping track of moments of gratitude. I filled it out regularly for about 3 months, not too long, but long enough it could have become a habit. Sadly, it didn’t. Not that I don’t practice gratitude; I give thanks to God every day. But I suspect there is something to putting it in writing.

I wish I knew where that book was now because I’m curious–what were the moments I was thankful for? Are they things I overlook now? Does 16 years change someone’s gratitude list?

I imagine the core stays the same. Family, friends, food, shelter, warmth. It is wise attention to these things that keeps us grounded. Perhaps it’s the details that shift, like light through a stain glass window. Moments of radiance that you never saw before, or never took the time to notice. And sometimes that’s all it takes to steal your breath away.

So here’s my list of some of those moments today:

– The smell of coffee first thing in the morning, and that first sip, piping hot with cream and just a bit of sugar.
– My husband’s laugh and the way his eyes crinkle.
– Hot water and a working bathroom.
– Creaking floors in my little crooked house—it’s like I’m being told a story with every step.
– Thankful for people who are 88 years young and still enjoying life’s journey. Amazing.
– A church community that cares for one another in tangible ways.
– Hard working colleagues with good senses of humour.
– A packed lunch at work–convenient and delicious.
– Seat warmers in the car.
– A cardinal sitting in the bird feeder, red against the winter’s snow.
– The warmth of a cat snuggled up on my lap.

Finally…
– Light through a stain glass window, and a gratitude list that encouraged me to take the time to notice.