Sermon: December 11, 2011

Readings: Isaiah 61: 1-4, 8-11 / 1 Thessalonians 5: 16-24 / John 1: 6-8,19-28

Oh that you would tear open the heavens and come down! Oh that you would make yourself known to us, so that we could see you and hear you. But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

I have a fear that I am going to become the apocalyptic preacher. There is a part of me that is confused by and with the texts this last month. I don’t remember sitting in pews hearing these readings! What is going on?

These readings, however, put me in mind of a short story. I thought I had distinct memories of climbing into my mother’s lap when I was sad, confused, a little hurt, or just down and out. They are fleeting things, those memories, and I don’t know how true they are, but the feeling that my Mum gives in those moments has stuck with me. She’s the only one who knows how to rub my back in just the right way. The weight of her hand on the small of my back is sheer joy, stillness, and comfort. As an adult I still like to rest my head on her shoulder from behind her – because I’m now taller than her – and she is still that source of great comfort to me. I do have a particular clear memory of how much her comfort means to me: University was a tough time for me. I moved away from family and friends and attempted to start up an adult life away from everything I knew. It was lonely and hard. I can remember calling Mum, in tears and very upset because I was tired and didn’t want to do it anymore. I told her that I wanted to be that little 5-year old again, so I could crawl into her lap and have her make it all better. To be comforted. There was an incredible desire for her to swoop in and make everything fall into place.

Life gets hard, and some may say that it gets harder as you get older. The reality of coming into our own is not all that great. There is so much uncertainty. I think the wise of the world know that true wisdom comes when you stop trying to maintain control over all that uncertainty. There is an allure to control, to knowing and mastering the future. We want to know what our lives will be and exactly what we need to do in order to be happy, rich, influential, and powerful. All of those things. We extend this to our faith lives as well. We want to know exactly how God will come again into the world. What is it that we need to do exactly to be good, faithful, forgiven, justified. Why can’t God just come down here and clean it all up? We want that “mighty God” again.

This is the thing about the theme of waiting in Advent: When we wait for the coming of God, we acknowledge that there is a palpable lack of a presence. We see a lack of God in the chaos and confusion around us. We feel that absence, and it is easy to feel thus abandoned. Where is God in the midst of all of the war and fighting, hatred, selfishness, injustice, and all of that? Where is God when the innocent are dying for a cause they know nothing about? When the world feels overwhelmed and heavy by all of the negativity, it looks to God for comfort and healing. The world seeks to find a God who seems so tangibly absent. As a humanity that seeks to place control within a seemingly chaotic situation, we aim to place God’s decisive action in such a way that we can point at a place or person, and say: There. There is God. We go so far as to set God’s decisive action neatly into a manger scene and try to make it nice. Almost like neatly wrapping it up with a pretty glittery bow. One you can hand over to the world’s weary, and say: Here. Here is God. Christ coming into the midst of humanity, however, is that Mighty God that we are looking for. It is an incredibly awesome thing. Christ became human, so that we would find light in the midst of all the world’s darkness.

How do we expect God to be? Where is God going to show up now and in the future? Perhaps Advent is about being aware of the places where we are convinced we’ve got God and questioning if that’s entirely true. Christ cautions us: Stay awake. Don’t get lulled into false expressions of God or of the future, because we might get caught up in preparing for the wrong event, or anticipating something that is unrealistic and incapable of happening.

The day I called my Mum was an especially low one for me. I was struggling with low grades, few friends, and little income. I was feeling an increasing pressure to perform and excel. My mother imparted great wisdom to me that day. She very calmly asked me what it was exactly that I wanted from her. What did I expect her to be? The truth of my desire was that I could never be a little girl anymore. I could never crawl into her lap again without crushing her entirely. And she couldn’t take over and make everything perfect. But she was very proud of a daughter who left everything she knew and was comfortable with to become an adult, to learn new things, see new options, and try something frightening. She told me that even though the days I was longing for were good and truly gone, she was still there, with me, going through everything that I was going through as only a mother could, and I could rely on that for encouragement and comfort. I really wasn’t alone, and she became a light of Christ in the midst of my pain.

Light is a very important thing in the Markan text. There is an interesting theme to it. Mark may be the briefest gospel text on Christ’s life and teaching, but the structure to what is there gives us insight into a deep and meaningful theology that the writer was trying to impart. Today’s Gospel reading comes from a three part section once Jesus and the disciples have made it to Jerusalem. This section is about Christ changing the perspective of the church being Jerusalem into a perspective that looks to Christ as the centre of the church. Everything that Jesus has spoken about that everyone has taken to mean a NEW Jerusalem is redirected at himself. It makes the destruction of Jerusalem seem more real, more destructive, and full of more meaning when it is turned toward a man.

My favourite text about the human character of Christ is about Jesus cursing the fig tree outside of Jerusalem. It happens right before he tosses the market at the Temple. That curse withers that poor little tree as an example of God’s power. And in today’s gospel text Jesus turns it around. That little fig tree will become tender again – there will be signs of Christ’s return, and no one will know the exact time and date, but we can have faith that no matter how negative the world gets, Heaven and earth will not pass away. Christ’s words are there to light the way.

This theme delves deeper still. Mark’s gospel text is set up like a full day with a twist. It is the day of Christ’s death and resurrection. There is evening, midnight, the cock crow, and dawn. It is not just the crucifixion and passion tale that has this theme. All of Christ’s life is this theme over and over. And to Mark, the coming of Christ is going to look a lot like it did before. We can take strength and courage from this. We are not really alone...God is still all around us. This Advent: Stand in the presence of God. The one who came and will come again. Wait for the Lord, be strong, take heart.

Sermon: November 27, 2011

Readings: Isaiah 64:1-9 / 1 Corinthians 1:3-9 / Mark 13: 24-37

Oh that you would tear open the heavens and come down! Oh that you would make yourself known to us, so that we could see you and hear you. But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

I have a fear that I am going to become the apocalyptic preacher. There is a part of me that is confused by and with the texts this last month. I don’t remember sitting in pews hearing these readings! What is going on?

These readings, however, put me in mind of a short story. I thought I had distinct memories of climbing into my mother’s lap when I was sad, confused, a little hurt, or just down and out. They are fleeting things, those memories, and I don’t know how true they are, but the feeling that my Mum gives in those moments has stuck with me. She’s the only one who knows how to rub my back in just the right way. The weight of her hand on the small of my back is sheer joy, stillness, and comfort. As an adult I still like to rest my head on her shoulder from behind her – because I’m now taller than her – and she is still that source of great comfort to me. I do have a particular clear memory of how much her comfort means to me: University was a tough time for me. I moved away from family and friends and attempted to start up an adult life away from everything I knew. It was lonely and hard. I can remember calling Mum, in tears and very upset because I was tired and didn’t want to do it anymore. I told her that I wanted to be that little 5-year old again, so I could crawl into her lap and have her make it all better. To be comforted. There was an incredible desire for her to swoop in and make everything fall into place.

Life gets hard, and some may say that it gets harder as you get older. The reality of coming into our own is not all that great. There is so much uncertainty. I think the wise of the world know that true wisdom comes when you stop trying to maintain control over all that uncertainty. There is an allure to control, to knowing and mastering the future. We want to know what our lives will be and exactly what we need to do in order to be happy, rich, influential, and powerful. All of those things. We extend this to our faith lives as well. We want to know exactly how God will come again into the world. What is it that we need to do exactly to be good, faithful, forgiven, justified. Why can’t God just come down here and clean it all up? We want that “mighty God” again.

This is the thing about the theme of waiting in Advent: When we wait for the coming of God, we acknowledge that there is a palpable lack of a presence. We see a lack of God in the chaos and confusion around us. We feel that absence, and it is easy to feel thus abandoned. Where is God in the midst of all of the war and fighting, hatred, selfishness, injustice, and all of that? Where is God when the innocent are dying for a cause they know nothing about? When the world feels overwhelmed and heavy by all of the negativity, it looks to God for comfort and healing. The world seeks to find a God who seems so tangibly absent. As a humanity that seeks to place control within a seemingly chaotic situation, we aim to place God’s decisive action in such a way that we can point at a place or person, and say: There. There is God. We go so far as to set God’s decisive action neatly into a manger scene and try to make it nice. Almost like neatly wrapping it up with a pretty glittery bow. One you can hand over to the world’s weary, and say: Here. Here is God. Christ coming into the midst of humanity, however, is that Mighty God that we are looking for. It is an incredibly awesome thing. Christ became human, so that we would find light in the midst of all the world’s darkness.

How do we expect God to be? Where is God going to show up now and in the future? Perhaps Advent is about being aware of the places where we are convinced we’ve got God and questioning if that’s entirely true. Christ cautions us: Stay awake. Don’t get lulled into false expressions of God or of the future, because we might get caught up in preparing for the wrong event, or anticipating something that is unrealistic and incapable of happening.

The day I called my Mum was an especially low one for me. I was struggling with low grades, few friends, and little income. I was feeling an increasing pressure to perform and excel. My mother imparted great wisdom to me that day. She very calmly asked me what it was exactly that I wanted from her. What did I expect her to be? The truth of my desire was that I could never be a little girl anymore. I could never crawl into her lap again without crushing her entirely. And she couldn’t take over and make everything perfect. But she was very proud of a daughter who left everything she knew and was comfortable with to become an adult, to learn new things, see new options, and try something frightening. She told me that even though the days I was longing for were good and truly gone, she was still there, with me, going through everything that I was going through as only a mother could, and I could rely on that for encouragement and comfort. I really wasn’t alone, and she became a light of Christ in the midst of my pain.

Light is a very important thing in the Markan text. There is an interesting theme to it. Mark may be the briefest gospel text on Christ’s life and teaching, but the structure to what is there gives us insight into a deep and meaningful theology that the writer was trying to impart. Today’s Gospel reading comes from a three part section once Jesus and the disciples have made it to Jerusalem. This section is about Christ changing the perspective of the church being Jerusalem into a perspective that looks to Christ as the centre of the church. Everything that Jesus has spoken about that everyone has taken to mean a NEW Jerusalem is redirected at himself. It makes the destruction of Jerusalem seem more real, more destructive, and full of more meaning when it is turned toward a man.

My favourite text about the human character of Christ is about Jesus cursing the fig tree outside of Jerusalem. It happens right before he tosses the market at the Temple. That curse withers that poor little tree as an example of God’s power. And in today’s gospel text Jesus turns it around. That little fig tree will become tender again – there will be signs of Christ’s return, and no one will know the exact time and date, but we can have faith that no matter how negative the world gets, Heaven and earth will not pass away. Christ’s words are there to light the way.

This theme delves deeper still. Mark’s gospel text is set up like a full day with a twist. It is the day of Christ’s death and resurrection. There is evening, midnight, the cock crow, and dawn. It is not just the crucifixion and passion tale that has this theme. All of Christ’s life is this theme over and over. And to Mark, the coming of Christ is going to look a lot like it did before. We can take strength and courage from this. We are not really alone...God is still all around us. This Advent: Stand in the presence of God. The one who came and will come again. Wait for the Lord, be strong, take heart.

Sermon: September 25, 2011

Based on the readings from Exodus 17:1-7 and Matthew 21:23-32

I’m standing fifteen feet in the air, on the edge of a concrete wall about eighteen inches wide. Below me is a river surrounded by tall grass and trees and populated with birds I have never seen before. Huge storks. They’re almost as tall as I am. Someone next to me has pointed and asked, “Is that an alligator?” For miles and miles around there is nothing but dry, dusty earth. Here in this place, this river is teaming with life. Everything around it is thriving. Here, water is the source of life.

Two years ago, I travelled to Ethiopia with a group of Seminarians for a cross-cultural experience. I have heard about drought, and I have seen hot dry summers on the prairies, but nothing really prepares you for the heat of the sun that burns the skin in less than five minutes; for thirst so strong that you can easily drink four litres of water in a day; for a land so desolate that nothing grows for miles around you. We travelled to a region in the northeast part of Ethiopia called the Afar region because CLWR wanted us to see what work was being done in this place, with their help and with the guidance of a non-profit Ethiopian organization.

Fifteen feet in the air we are walking on a weir that diverts a tiny amount of water from this life-giving river. The water taken is such a tiny amount that even in the driest time of the year, the river continues to sustain its own environment. The diverted water then travels five kilometres through channels, all dug and created by hand, pushed by gravity and stepped layers, flowing to a camp and a field. We are taken along those five kilometres to show how the water moves. And we came to the end at the field and camp. This water is life-giving. The land around us, the desert, barren of anything great or spectacular, is laying in wait. It is incredibly fertile land, we are told, and you simply need to add water and it is amazing how fast everything grows. There is so much potential here.

The people who live in this desert region are nomadic goat and cattle herders. They are also vegetarians, they don’t eat their cattle. They are nomadic because they might have to travel for a full day for their animals to find enough to eat. They were open to any solution that would help them and keep their animals, or them, from starving or dying of hunger and thirst. By the work of their own hands, with the guidance of concerned neighbours, they have learned to grow rich, lush, and vibrant crops that will feed their herds and feed themselves. Water was the key.

The absolute lack of anything in the desert was trying for the Israelites too. When there’s nothing to look at, our minds can wander, complaints surface, and hardship seems even more difficult to surmount. The journey through the wilderness of Sin was really more like a moonwalk without the fun of discovery and limited gravity. There wasn’t much excitement in this journey. While in the Afar desert, all the seminarians were filled with curiosity and wonder. Everything was new and exciting to us. The ground beneath our feet was filled with fascination the second we drove onto the desert road. The people around us who were from the region thought we were all pretty silly, shuffling in the sand, making moon tracks, picking up handfuls and letting it pour out of our hands. The word "Sin" (sh-EEn) in Hebrew means 'moon'. The wilderness of Sin is most likely so-named because the only significant landmark of this region was the moon.

The Israelites were tired and thirsty. They had been travelling for weeks, moving toward a goal and a promise that only God really knew about. It didn’t take long for the grumbling to start. Even though we were filled with wonder and fun, it certainly didn’t take long for us to begin to grumble and complain either. We were in the Afar to see not one, but six of these river diversion projects. We would arrive late at night at a camp, get up early in the morning to look at a site in the cooler weather, then drive almost all day to the next camp through the heat of the day. A dry place like the Afar is fun for a short while. The dust in Ethiopia is unique. It gets into everything. Your hair, your skin pores, your lungs, your nostrils, your ears. It’ll turn a white shirt red, nigh permanently. We would arrive tired and hungry at a destination. It wasn’t the final destination, and we were prone to grumbling. I have a lot of sympathy for the Israelites. At least I knew that I had a place back in Saskatoon. They were unsure of where they were headed.

God may have been providing manna and quail daily for their hunger needs, but water became the issue of the day. Human beings are made up of mostly water, and it needs replenishing when we are taxing our bodies, when we are hot, when we are wandering around in a desert. Water is a source of life. The grumbling can quickly turn to blame. Moses became the target as the authority of the group, the so-called leader. Yet, Moses when talking to God, is just as quick to overstate the situation to God, who is the ultimate authority in this tale. The Israelites are going to stone me, they’re going to kill me. Do something to show them who’s in charge.

It’s interesting how water and authority are themes in both the Old Testament and the Gospel reading. In all the synoptic gospels, Jesus is often asked by whose authority he does something. When Jesus is questioned about authority in today’s lesson, he responds with a question of his own. The questions to Jesus aren’t usually about Jesus or learning more about this man. They are usually about the people asking the question. So, Jesus responds with a question of his own: about the baptism of John. Where does the authority for that act come from? From the divine or the human? Who do we blame for the problems we’re facing right now as we wander about it our own wilderness situations?

Sometimes the question is more important than the answer. Sometimes the question gives us a better understanding than the answer. It doesn’t always matter what one says, it matters what one does. The people asking Jesus about his authority are concerned about their own places of power. They are the community leaders and teachers. They have the training and the call. John and Jesus are threats because the people follow them, the people give them the authority to lead, but who made them the leaders? Was it Divine or human? The Pharisees and elders aren’t sure how to answer the question because it isn’t clear. They get tangled in their own thoughts. Their grumbling and accusations surface because the time they are living in is changing – they are looking for a solution to help them survive.

Jesus says that John came to everyone in the way of righteousness. The ‘outcasts’ of the Jewish community found purpose and help in walking the way of John and Jesus. It might not be the only way, Jesus does say that they will go into the kingdom ahead of the other “leaders,” but a new action has generated new thoughts. The authority that John has is both divine and human in origin. Oh. That’s an interesting thought. Likewise, the authority that Moses has is both divine and human. It’s not about power, it’s about relationship. It’s not always about what someone is saying, but it does matter what one is doing.

Discovering how quickly sustainable environments could grow up from just a little water was an incredible blessing on that Ethiopia journey. To know that these giant oases that greet us as we travel from newer developments to older ones was incredible. To know that a simple thought about water generated these huge gardens and fields and horticultural training was incredible. To see all of the actions, people working as a community, sustaining each other and learning from each other to go in the way of righteousness. This wilderness is now turning into an Eden and Promised Land, flowing with growth and abundance. To see the potential turn into reality was awesome and inspiring. We desperately wanted to get involved, and so the question was asked: How can we help?

The reply: Tell our story. Tell it because it is now also your story. You now have the authority to speak, so go. You have seen, you now know, only you can tell your own people what is happening here. We have seen the actions and I am now sharing with you a story about the wilderness bearing forth promise and potential. Was it divine or human, or maybe it was just both.

I would like to end this tale as Jesus began his parable: What do you think?

Failing on a few counts

" I am the voice of the one crying out in the wilderness,

Make straight the way of the Lord."

John the Baptiser quoting Isaiah

I have been poked, prodded, and questioned multiple times on the theme of where my blog posts have been. And, for that I apologize. As a way to make it up, I will be posting the sermons that I have preached so far on internship so that you can also give me some feedback (if you'd like). I am feeling a bit of a failure lately when it comes to reevaluating my goals for internship. I haven't dedicated myself to them fully (mainly because some of them fall outside of the "what I can do at the office" realm of behaviour).

Internship is going well, despite the lack of personal goal control. I will be posting pictures of Grace and my office space soon. I've taken some lovely Christmas ones. I am busy.

I think it is fairly common knowledge that the Advent and Christmas season is a busy one for the church at large. I know that I knew it. Knowing, however, hasn't really prepared me for the reality. I have always been an active participant in volunteerism at the Church this time of year. And for the first time, I am actively participating on the "other side" - the staff and clergy side. All of the thinking, brainstorming, planning, discussions, rehearsals, potlucks and special dinners, etc.! There are so many ways to fill one's time with work. My challenge has been to make time for a meditation and reflection throughout Advent that centres me and brings me to the root of faith within myself. I am happy that I have taken the time to do that. I would encourage everyone to do something similar in future years. It's a nice break from all the hurriedness and heightened emotions that seem to come on just as strongly at this time of year.

The New year is not showing any signs of slowing. There is an amazing amount of activity here at Grace. We're already rehearsing for dinner theatre, and shortly the Dinner & a Study will begin as well. I have a large number of people signed up for my Bible Study. Looking forward to it! Soon it will be Easter! I will try my best to post well before that -- maybe even multiple times.

Merry Christmas and a Joyous New Year!

Mighty Morphin' Preacher Teacher

"Not that I have already attained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:12-14

I have become aware of the power of business in the last couple of months. I've now been at my internship placement for six weeks or so. And what a time it's been! The reason that being busy is on my mind is simply because I have been. It's in the lulls and stillness that we can discover how truly busy we have been. And I am coming to appreciate the ebb and flow of my time here.

Without wanting to paint a negative or overly positive picture of internship, the reality of everything is sinking in. While I love the learning and the work I am doing, I am concretely aware that there have been a number of hardships.

I have received much advice from former interns about: coping with the reality of living away from all the people I love, feelings of loss and loneliness, self-care, and a number of things for which I am grateful to hear that I am not alone in feeling. I am filled with gratitude to see how connected pastors in this church body remain, how supportive everyone is, and how caring questions and reminders are. There is SO much to be said for living in community.

I posed a question as to why I continue to do things that would set me up for disappointment, and the reply was one that I have been pondering in light of a somewhat self-motivated learning experience like internship. I have difficulty believing that something really can come easy to me; that there are things that I can do without much difficulty. So, like any crazed person, I set out to test my limits. One of the places where I have already started doing that is in my preaching.

I have almost always wanted to be a teacher of some kind. I never thought I would be a teacher in a school, but I wanted to do something that would promote teaching outside of a classroom's four walls. In a way, I suppose I am teaching myself.

Knowing the limit of the exercise, I have currently set out to try something new with each sermon I have preached. This is a stylistic growth so I can help identify my preaching style. I appreciate the opportunity to experiment and spend some time learning and trying things out. And this is what internship is about, in my mind. Testing my limits in an encouraging and supportive environment so that I may learn what my talents are.

I suppose that's why I appreciate that even when someone in the congregation tells me that I'm full of shit when I say that I am not confident about my abilities to do something, I can laugh and continue a conversation that helps me to form who I am becoming. I am striving to make something my own even when I know that it truly is something bigger than just me.

And we're off... like a herd of turtles.

"But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God. I trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever. I will thank you forever, because of what you have done. In the presence of the faithful I will proclaim your name, for it is good." Psalm 52:8-9

September is here, and the Fall season of programming has commenced. I always find it interesting that we consider the Tuesday after Labour Day to be the unofficial beginning of Fall. Maybe it's because we don't like the idea of kids going back to school in the summer? I'm not entirely sure.

Normally, I would be gearing up for a semester's worth of courses at this point, but I'm not. It's Internship year! I can't believe we're here already.

I'm in Winnipeg, MB for the year with a lovely and large congregation. I've been at work for almost two weeks, and I am slowly getting accustomed to a new schedule. Over the next twelve months I expect to learn a lot, and grow a lot too. It will be interesting to document this journey for all the readers out there who care to know what's going on.

I am amazed at the amount of work this congregation is doing and look forward to getting to know as many of them as I can. I really like the staff I work with, and can easily see loving them all quickly. My supervisor and I get along and we talk about a lot of things. His door is open, and I'm often across the hub asking one question ro another. I'm now working on sermons and getting to know folks, but I'm finding that there are many things that I get to experience in a regular week here. It's easy to see that the time will pass quickly and probably in more of a blur than I expect.

Peace to all who are also venturing out into something new. May God bless your journey and give you the strength to accept the new with wide arms of joy.

Helfway there.

It's interesting to have a slow day at the hospital. Suddenly there isn't as much to do, and you're left wondering how you can fill your time appropriately. And then a funny thing happened.

I was left confronting myself.

It's hard to escape all the thoughts and feelings coming at me in a great rush. Firstly, why didn't this happen yesterday when I was having a quiet alone day? Secondly, it becomes quickly apparent that I have to deal with the fact that I am a lonely person when it gets quiet enough to actually hear what's going on inside of me.

Don't get me wrong, CPE has been a wonderful experience. I am learning so much every day. A part of me knew that coming away so far from everything that I know and am comfortable with might stir up a lot of insecurity and emotional baggage. It just hadn't happened until today because I've been contentedly learning and keeping relatively busy. A lull in all of that brings me rather abruptly to myself.

And I'm facing the fear that Internship may feel the same way. I hope not, and I have plans to get out and do things that are relaxing for me, but there is a quiet fear that I will continue to feel disconnected and lonely in a place away from the things I know.

It's possible that this is simply a 'down day,' but in the world of self-reflection and consideration, I am looking to confront the problems head on to see if I really have come to a point where I keep myself busy in order to avoid myself. How did I become this 'doer'?

Something to think about anyway.

CPE and life on the Atlantic

Well, the semester's done (and been so for a while now...) and I've been transplanted to the coast of Nova Scotia.

I'm here for an 11-week course as part of my training. It's called CPE: Clinical Pastoral Education. The simplest explanation is that I am learning what it means to be a hospital chaplain. For those of you who've been in hospital or been a hospital visitor probably have a good idea of what a hospital chaplain is. This course is about learning the skills to do the work of a hospital chaplain and to spend time with course-mates learning and talking about how the experience is teaching us new things about ourselves as much as simply learning skills to work in a hospital.

I am very much enjoying my experience, even if I seem to be the only Lutheran in the hospital. I am working at the IWK Children and Women's Health Hospital in Halifax: a very interesting place to be. There is so much to learn! I work exclusively on one floor in Pediatrics. I have 24 beds to visit that are usually completely occupied, but not consistently the same patients. There are both long term stayers and short term visits. The patients range in age from a day old to 18 years old. I visit with patients as much as I visit with patient's families who are often staying in the rooms with them. I really like the people I'm working with, and have had good opportunities to get to know the whole staff.

I'm 5 weeks done, which is incredible. The days are passing rather quickly. Soon I will be back in Saskatchewan, only to turn back around and move to Winnipeg for my internship placement. I am only now starting to think about internship (and even then it's usually just after I've gotten settled in bed before I fall asleep) because I had so many other things that I needed to do before I got out here.

I came out to Nova Scotia a week early in order to visit with some friends and attempt to relax a little after the most tiring semester I've had. I got to see some sights and have been to Zion Lutheran in Lunenburg - the oldest Lutheran congregation in Canada! It is very pretty here. I am becoming fast friends with the local Lutheran clergy (they are warming me to the idea of seeking a call in the Atlantic Conference when I have completed my schooling).

The last part of this week I've been attending 'Luther Hostel,' an Eastern Synod Workshop conference in Lunenburg County. I've been appreciative of the chance to gather and learn a little about the folks who make up the Eastern side of the ELCIC. I am a bit of a curiosity in my coming to Halifax for CPE - but people seem to completely understand my explanation of wanting to go somewhere I've never been before.

All in all, things are going well.

Trying times at Seminary.

I've been trying to think of a way to share some news with the people I care about and who care about me. This year at Sem has tried me, challenged me, scared me, and found me nearing the end of the school year looking ahead and continually amazed at what God has in store for all of us. The last month or so has been a bit of a roller-coaster ride.

I found out that I have Type 2 Diabetes. Severe enough that I am on medication and have had to strongly alter my daily diet. It's still early in my diagnosis, so I don't have all the information that I would like to have, but I am getting things to manageable levels. If that weren't enough, there are also concerns about my kidneys - something that I am not thinking about until I meet with the specialist. The medication and life changes are enough for now.

What I don't want is for this post to become a list of 'things that I am complaining about'. I really do believe that these are steps in my life that are a little difficult, but they are by no means a plea for platitudes or even heartfelt sympathy.

Seminary is tough. Life doesn't stop when you come to Sem. And through all the ups and downs I have had the support I've needed. There has been and is a lot of joy in what I am working at here. I just wanted to take the time to let people know what's going on. Peace.

And they're off!

It's almost time for another semester to start. I am keenly aware that I haven't done much* this January, and I am ready for classes to commence once again. I am taking a normal course load this semester, and the classes are exciting:
- Isaiah. This is my exegesis class, so bring on the Hebrew!
- Christian Education. An interesting class being taught by Jackie Nunns. It's sort of half reading class, half intensive study.
- History of Canadian Lutheranism & Ecumenism. I am always happy about another history class.
- Faith & Fantasy. Christianity through 'Lord of the Rings' and 'The Chronicles of Narnia,' and I think it's safe to say that the geek in me is quite content.
- Vocational Formation. The preparatory class for internship.

Ah, internship. I have become increasingly anxious. Not about internship, per say. I am, I suppose, more anxious about the unknown at the end of these next 3 months. I don't know where I am going for my CPE placement yet, and that makes the stress of internship high (because I need to have CPE completed in order to go on internship). And then, I don't know where I am headed for internship either. This makes for a very panicky me. As I am a "plan person," I want to be able to come up with plans for the next six months. Some of the factors haven't presented complete resolution yet, so I worry. I am trying not to.

So, looking forward to classes instead. And that trip to Edmonton.


*I've read three books, finished the "art project from the seventh layer of hell" (pictures to follow), managed the Residence and looked at trying to fill all the rooms, cleaned the apartment, written two CPE applications, planned for a trip to Edmonton next weekend, studied the course syllabi that I have and read the homework for Monday's class, been down to Regina for a visit, etc. Obviously, you can see it's not much. :)

The New Year.

I had a couple of interesting questions when I awoke this morning. What if I had never come to seminary? How would my life with God be different if I hadn't taken these classes and never read the things that I have read so far? Would I be as happy?

I suppose I ponder these questions from time to time because I see notable differences in the way I attend church, engage with people around me, and exist in the world as a Christian. I don't know if other people see changes in me too. It would have been interesting to have a created list of questions that I could ask myself at various times throughout this journey. I suppose I do in a way. CTEL has a survey for me to fill out every year, and there is always the faculty review that I did last year (and am sure to do this year). Somehow, these aren't getting me to a point where I can determine real and visible change.

Perhaps I should start asking people what they see that is different about me.

No resolutions this year. I haven't thought of a single one that will be kept the whole year. And I'm okay with that.