In quietness and rest this home is a vessel.
A vessel which carries life and being, but does not limit its function, malfunction or growth.
As I rest here on the couch I hear the gentle whirring of the dishwasher, lulling the quietness of the warm air in this house, as it makes clean the lesser vessels which held the well prepared dinner just enjoyed.
I can hear the gentle rumble of the stove, with its slow creaking as its metal expands; this vessel of fire which keeps the air warm, which can take a chill out of a cold room, a cold body, sometimes even out of a cold heart.
Above this, but gently, I hear the voices of two generations, though time and experience divide them; they are cooing to each other. I can hear grandmother gently holding, and grand-daughter reaching out to time and experience. For a moment the two seem as one, both intertwined with the other, grandmother drawn to be child-like and grand-daughter grasping for grandmother's experience. How we grow with and into each other in mysterious ways.
We are vessels of life, of hope and love, of growth and brokenness, of quietness and strength, vessels that carry light and warmth, in this furnace made of skin, of tender enduring material, which stretches and creaks with experience and time, that gives light and warmth for those nearby to enjoy, to stand close to and heal, to find nourishment in the feast of company and love, to cleanse and wash each other through water and tears and sometimes fire, to hold and to shelter and to bring together. How we grow with and into each other in mysterious ways.
Yet though we are the vessels of light and life, we are not the light itself. We are the vessels. Yet, we are more than vessels.

"There are many who love God and wander in the wilderness; I will follow the one who loves the persons made by God."

I've been writing papers and exams over the last couple weeks now and have come across so much interesting information! I wish I could subject everyone to it.

This quote I came across today. It comes from one who some call Islam's most outstanding thinker, Mahummad Iqbal.
(ref. Muhammad Iqbal, Bang-e-Dara (Urdu)(Lahore, 1962), 151)

An Advent Prayer: The Second Sunday of Advent

I usually end up forgetting about Advent until partway through the season. It's easy to get swept into the busy fray, especially with final papers and exams, and not take the time to soak in this season. But each year, as I am pulled into the Advent celebrations, I find more and more value in it, in meditating on the themes brought up, especially in my community here in St. Stephen. It' more than recognizing an event that has happened in the birth of Christ, marking a Christian holiday, spending time with family and focusing more on Christ. It is all of these things in more or less ways, but I think I am learning that it is also being deeply aware that Christ is still becoming present and working in and through people, our communities and in each of one of us. The time of Advent is a time of anticipating this presence. One of the members of our community, Rachel Barham, wrote a prayer for the second week of Advent and it emphasizes this anticipation of the presence of Christ in our lives and the life of the world.

We wait with Mary for Christ to be formed in us,

Daring to trust this hidden womb-weaving,

And treasuring the smallest signs of growth.

As Mary took heart to see

the wondrous swelling of Elizabeth’s belly,

So the burgeoning life of God we see in others

encourages us that this sacred life grows also in us.

More and more, we long to bring Christ into the world,

Though we know that pain and labour accompany the birth of new life

As surely as joy and wonder.

Groaning and waiting,

Pregnant with hope and desire,

We prepare today a place for your coming,

Son of Mary’s womb, and Christ of our own hearts.

I feel like my life is unbalanced.

How is it that I can take out a student loan and live on money I don't really have? I understand the meaning of investment. Good ones, bad ones, what will get a return, what won't. But even still, am I moving forward by going back?

How is it that I have to place a monetary value on my being able to spend Christmas at home? I don't want to feel burdened for going home. My plane ticket is my ticket to see my family. Why should buying a ticket make me less excited to go home? Or will I value my family time more by being able to or not being able to go home? is the question "can I afford the ticket?" or "should I afford the ticket?" or should I even ask a question?

How is it that I am almost done my education and I still feel like I'm just barely beginning to grasp how to bring a thought together intelligently and thoughtfully, slowly drawing it out on a piece of paper, grasping for words?

How is it that the world moves so quickly, that time passes without letting me mine the moment for the worth, and I'm stuck with a pick axe or jackhammer in hand, trying to mine a moment in the past as time continues to move forward? Does the time that passes while I'm jack-hammering on a earlier moment mean more because I'm mining, even though hundreds and perhaps thousands of other moments are passing by? Do we waste time mining something of little worth when something of greater worth lies in a moment that we haven't touched?

I can't be all places at once. I can't be all things at once. I can't do all things at once. But I am always at once alive.

Lobster Fishing

It will be two weeks ago this coming Wednesday that I had the amazing opportunity to experience an essential part of the Maritimes. I was invited to be a fourth man on a fishing boat on the second day of lobster season.

My Wednesday began at 5 am. My International Studies professor, Lois, and her husband Dale live on Deer Island, an island that is a short ferry ride off the southern Canadian Atlantic coast, part of the Bay of Fundy. I had driven there the night before in anticipation of the early morning and long day. One of the primary occupations on Deer Island is fishing, and I was waking up early with Dale and others from the island to join them in pulling in the nights catch.

The day before Dale and the crew (his son Judson, Judson's friend and a classmate of mine, Kyle) had baited and dropped the lobster traps (300 of them!). As the traps rest on the ocean floor, the bait attracts the lobster and they get caught in the cage, "trapped" until the cage is hauled up and the lobsters removed.

Hauling in the cages was our job that Wednesday. And because it was the first catch of the season it was also one of the most important. The cages are attached to a rope with a buoy on the end of it (sometimes the rope is up to 50 fathoms or 300 feet long). The rope retrieved by hooking the buoy and then fed into a hydrolic pulley which begins pulling up the cage. Once up the cage is then emptied of its catch (lobster, fish, crabs, sometimes pop cans), re-baited with fresh bait and dropped back down into the ocean.

The lobsters are kept, obviously, but only those over a certain size. Rubber bands are put on their claws to keep them from fighting and injuring each other when they are stored in their crates. It was my job to put rubber bands on the lobsters and pack them in the crates while Dale drove the boat and Judson retrieved and re-baited the cages. We worked on the boat from around 6:30 am until 5 pm, moving from buoy to buoy and pulling up each cage. By the time we headed back for the harbour we had managed to pull up 295 of the 300 cages and about 2000 lbs of lobster!

Some might be interested in what side affects I felt from a day on the ocean. Well, sorry to disappoint, but I found my legs and stomach were quite solid. It was a beautiful day though, with calm water and the only major waves being the ones that the fishing boats were making. I may or may not have fell into the bait box a couple times when I lost my balance banding the lobsters. I also lost feeling in my hand about halfway through the day from using the banding pliers so repetitively.

It's funny to think that an animal which was once thought of as a bottom feeder, and not to be eaten unless at last resort, is today one of the more popular and expensive dishes. The coasts of New Brunswick and Maine are well known for their lobster. An article I read from back in 2007 pointed out that lobster is one of Canada's most valuable seafood resources, with live lobster generating anywhere from 400 to 600 million dollars in revenue per year. The last couple years have been tougher with catches lower than usual. He said the catch we pulled in that Wednesday was good for an average year. Dale said prices for live lobster were low now, but he still seemed optimistic. Like many fisherman, Dale counts on the various fishing seasons throughout the year. Lobster season opens in mid November and closes mid January, and then scallop season begins and others follow. Canada's fishing industry is important to the many maritimers throughout New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI and Newfoundland who depend on the fish and lobster each year.

During my time here I've experienced a lobster "feed" a couple of times. I think it takes some getting used to. For any who have yet to experience it, eating lobster is interesting and messy work. If done right it tastes great, and the experience quite unforgettable. Here are a few pictures from the day on the boat and also one from from our lobster feed earlier this year.

Birthpangs

"Not too long ago a priest told me that he cancelled his subscription to The New York Times because he felt that the endless stories about war, crime, power games and political manipulation only disturbed his mind and heart and prevented him from meditation and prayer. That is a sad story because it suggests that only by surrounding yourself by an artificial, self-induced quietude can you live a spiritual life. A real spiritual life does exactly the opposite: it makes us so alert and aware of the world around us that all that is and happens becomes part of our contemplation and meditation and invites us to a free and fearless response."
- Henri Nouwen (Reaching Out)

The lectionary readings from today (1 Samuel 1:4-20; 1 Samuel 2:1-10; Mark 13:1-8) carries a common theme of contrast; it connects the reality of brokenness found in the desperate and mundane of our world to the realizing of a fuller life and fuller humanity. What we would see as lowness, brokenness, destruction holds with it the actualizing of promise and life.

In the 1 Samuel passages Hannah's barrenness and the social humiliation that comes with this becomes a turning to God and the birth of Samuel. In Mark, Jesus describes to the awe-struck disciples the destruction of the temple, the turning of the great stones that were so remarkable to them. "When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed" Jesus says, "this must take place but the end is still to come". He goes on to describe that nations and kingdoms will clash, that the earth will have natural disasters - "this is the beginning of the birthpangs." I thought "birthpangs" was an interesting word choice. Especially in light of the other two readings about Hannah's barrenness and the promise of Hannah's own birthpangs.

Altogether, it made me wonder if the point is that barrenness, breaking and clashing is actually a necessary part of a fuller life. Not to forget that Christ brings the life more abundant through the breaking of his own body, that the symbol of our association with Christ and the community of believers is the breaking of bread and wine of crushed grapes.

Read the Nouwen quote again, and ask ourselves how we should live in this world.

The Sleep before the Spring

So we watched a good short video in class yesterday.

Like it or not, we are getting close to Christmas again. There are a lot of things I personally enjoy about this time or year. I like the cold and the snow, and the going inside and warming myself by the fire or having a cup of hot chocolate. I like sitting around the living room with a good book while there is a snow storm outside. I like the crisp air, the blanket of white, the season where the land seems to sleep before it comes alive again in the spring. I value the celebration of our quiet hope that comes in the Incarnation.

There are a few things about this time of year I could do without though. The shorter days, I find it harder to wake up in the morning without the early sunlight. I don't always care for the way my hands loose all feeling after doing chores on the farm because its so cold and my "circulation" isn't very good. But probably most of all it unsettles me when I'm walking down the street on November 1st and find that suddenly all the Halloween pumpkin grimaces and candies have been replaced by smiling snowmen and "gift ideas". I understand that people want to celebrate, decorate and give, but it is the way this is propagated and commercialized... it seems like we are in a sense selling our souls and buying something else instead.
I think that inwardly I find greater value in the winter season than all that currently detracts from it, but I feel the need to reiterate some of what we talked about in our class discussion yesterday.

We were talking about globalization and the impact of the dominant system of capitalism that our western economies and lives function on. The short video we watched in class cuts to the issue of consumerism and gives a brief look at how unbalanced our spending habits are when compared to some of the real needs of people around the world, especially in light of why and how Jesus came (and sadly how this consumerism is especially prevalent during the season of Christmas). Think about it. Just as encouragement to live simply, spend time meaningful and learn how to support habits in our society/culture that either create inequalities around the world or ignores them. Here's the link to the 2008 video on youtube and a link to the site, the movement is called Advent Conspiracy:
2008 video & Advent Conspiracy Site

"We don't know how to be generous if it isn't tied to commercialism..."

How true is this statement, in my life, your own life and in the wider context of our communities, nations and world we live in? I realize that not everyone links generosity to giving money, or buying something for someone else. But for me the underlying idea here is that our society's economic structure has an influence on our relationship and even our morality. I'm not making a call for everyone to react dramatically and drastically change the way they spend money, though maybe this is what should happen. But think about. How can we live a life that does not support the habit of materialism and easy gratification that is entrenched in our Western culture? Gratification. It is so easy to get something, anything in our culture, to be instantly gratified. Shouldn't it be that our relationships and morality have the greater influence on our society's economic structure, and not the other way around?

Let's not sell our souls or put them to sleep during the winter. I want mine warmed by the fire of hope, joy and love.

I accept you, long distance living

I have recently been struck by the thought that in my lifetime of 23 years I cannot recall one time that I have gone on hungry because of the lack of something to eat.

I tried two nights ago to find something more to write after that initial thought. I think it stands for pondering just the way it is.

About a month ago I moved back to New Brunswick after spending two months in Alberta, helping with seeding and yard work on my parents farm. During those two months I was involved in two weddings (one being my brother Darcy's), took a road trip to BC with my friend Caleb (who entertained me with experiences from his hitch-hiking excursion from New Brunswick to Alberta), climbed two mountains, rappelled into a cave and among other things, generally spent some much needed time catching up with family and friends.

It really was a much needed time, especially after having just spent two month in Southeast Asia. But it also highlighted some of the difficulties with having roots in two sides of the continent (and beyond). In a small way I wonder if this isn't what many missionaries and international workers experience when they come back home after a long time giving much of themselves and being given so much in another place, often with little to connect two worlds that they are very much a part of, but two worlds that have few other bridges to the other. I sometimes can't help but feel like I'm living two lives, both of them meaningful but in worlds that are disconnected.

I'm slowly getting better at finding ways of connecting home-life in Alberta to home-life in New Brunswick, or at least finding ways to let the differences be. It's great to have friends from out east come to the farm. In some small way it proves to myself that all my academics and fun on the coast are a reality even when I'm in Alberta. And in the same sense, when friends and family from the west come out to the coast it makes me remember that I really am from the prairies.

Differences are differences. There are obvious admirable characteristics that make the coast 'the coast!' and the prairies 'the prairies!'. In each I have found a unique beauty in nature and the joy in community. A question that has been getting me in the last couple years though... 'can someone be a full person in two places?'.

Whoever I have become in one place, with all of the people and experiences that have poured into me, gets carried with me to next. Maybe the better question that is really underneath this is 'what is a full person?'.

Travels in Southeast Asia

I recently returned from a travel term in three countries within the region known as Southeast Asia. Like the trip to Europe I went on last summer, this one included a full semester of courses, and 32 people traveling together as academic pilgrims. We spent approximately 7 weeks living and studying in the Philippines, Malaysia and Thailand. As in Europe, we were able to gain a taste of the history and culture of the countries we were visiting by being there, eating the foods, seeing the region and landscape and touring the occasional museum or historical location. The main difference between this trip and the Europe trip, besides experiencing the amazing Asian cultures, was that as students we stayed with home-stay families in each country. As well, we also received lectures from professors at Northwestern University (Philippines) and Chiang Mai University (Thailand).

Trying to keep this short for now, I think the broadest thing I learned through this experience was the sense of the unknown being filled with history, meaning and relationship. Before this term I knew very little about Southeast Asia. I would not have been able to add much to any conversation that included the Philippines. The mention of Thailand or Malaysia would have brought uncertainty of being foreign, far-off and other. But now after having learned the brilliant history of the Thai kings, or of the Spanish colonization of the Philippines, after having lived with a family whose religious faith is Islam or after having walked through the streets and markets of Laoag City in the Philippines, after treking through the rainforest to climb a mountain in the rain and after chatting with Buddhist monk about his life and faith... I no longer feel like I can see and understand countries and people from Southeast Asia as the 'other'.
And I'm glad.

Of Clementines and Journeys

Time is moving quickly, or maybe I'm the one that has been moving too quickly. One of the advantages of a blog is that it can force one to sit down and reflect on what might otherwise never be reflected upon. Our experiences sometimes need to be unpacked. I suppose I could compare "experience" to the Clementines or Christmas oranges which show up in our kitchen at home each Christmas season. They are attractive to see and touch, but, to truly know all one has to offer the orange needs to be peeled and then savoured. Sometimes experiences can be enjoyed in their entirety all at once. Sometimes experiences need to ripen. And maybe sometimes, like an over-ripe, hard and discoloured orange, we let our experiences go by without having known them fully.

I'm on the verge, and now in the process, of another new and amazing traveling experience. I'll be part of a group at my university that is studying, and will soon be traveling through, South East Asia. But before I get too far along in this exciting new fruition of learning, I'm wanting to reflect and share some of my other experiences, before my hypothetical and experiential orange finds itself lacking in luster and taste.

So, back to Europe I go. Looking back, my travel semester that took me through eight weeks of eight countries this past summer was nothing short of incredible. I'll share some of the highlights: The rain in Spain - Seeing first hand the paintings, sculptures and buildings of Michelangelo, Leonardo Da Vinci, Van Gogh, Gaudi and many, many others of Europe's most gifted artists - Roman aqueducts and bath complexes - Eating amazing Gelato in Italy, sometimes more than once a day - Kayaking in Austria on Europe's cleanest lake at 6 am in the morning - Viewing Rome from the top of St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican - A woman weeping at the tomb of Saint Francis of Assisi in the crypt of the Basilica of St. Francis - Standing in the main square of Prague where thousands of Czech people protested the oppression of communism, knowing it was only word and people against control and machine - Feeling the sobering silence and stillness in the concentration camp in Dachau - Spending an afternoon riding a tram and hiking in the Swiss Alps - Standing on the Beaches where Canadian, American and British troops landed on the 6th of June in 1944, D-Day - Most of our group getting sea sick crossing the English Channel - Having fish and chips and a pint in the Oxford pub where C.S. Lewis and the Inklings would meet - Sleeping in a tent, under the open sky and knowing there is a good chance of waking up to rain - Grocery shopping and making meals together - Laughing, singing and crying together - Trying to stay together and trying to get away - Hating being with people, loving being with people - Community - Diversity.

In case anyone wonders if I was really doing anything of academic value during the travel term to Europe (good question), it may be encouraging for you to know some of the numbers I recently crunched: I read at least 9 books and textbooks, over 50 articles, wrote over 100 pages of assignments and an 80 page journal. All this fitted alongside traveling that included packing and unpacking of tents and gear, lectures and presentations, travel by bus, subway, tram-car, bicycle, scooter and shoes, the shopping for and making of meals everyday and the safety and travel of 35 students and professors.

I've been learning that the history of my life has been completely shaped by the history of the world. Understanding Christianity and Western culture has been greatly enhanced for me by giving history the time to sink in deeper. I did not know that both Protestants and Catholics were responsible for the persecution of thousands of Anabaptists, some of which would eventually form a group known as the Mennonites. I did not know that over two hundred years before Martin Luther, John Wycliffe was calling for the church to take charge of its short-comings. I did not know that the invasion of allied forces into Normandy was the largest military operation in history which involved over 3000 aircraft stretching 300 miles across the sky, over 20, 000 paratroopers, and almost 134, 000 troops landing on the five beaches -- I'm learning that history often has a much greater story to tell.