Endless Renovation

By the time I staggered out of bed, the sun had risen. The reluctance I’d felt toward the day while lying in my darkened bedroom magically dissipated in the bright sunshine. I was struck by the profound effects of light. 

Light is on my mind because of our ongoing house renovation. When the main electrical work was complete, I noticed pretty new patterns of light and shadow and more comfy corners that were bright enough for reading or doing crossword puzzles.

We’ve added recessed lighting in kitchen and living room, as well as a vanity light fixture above the bathroom mirror. I was appreciating our new toys, dimmer switches and all, until I noticed something I should have foreseen.

The better the light, the better one can see… EVERYTHING! 

My “vanity” light, for instance, shows me all the reasons I have for humility. Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror I can clearly see thinning hair, drooping jowls, deep wrinkles, dark blotches, rogue whiskers, a sagging neck … okay, somebody stop me.

The new fixture also reveals the grubbiness of the tile grouting and the permanent stains on our aged bathtub.

Under brighter living room ceiling lights, every table and lamp displays a skim coat of dust, even five minutes after I clean. Newly visible are all the scuffs and chips on painted trim work. The kitchen pot-lights expose a layer of grime on the stove’s dials, the spice shelf, etc. 
Mercy! Hit the dimmers! 

The mixed blessings of brighter lighting made me think. As my blog title shows, I try to focus on the sparkling aspects of life – the beauty, compassion, humour and wisdom in every day. It’s joyous to know that Jesus was called the Light of the World, and that in God’s loving light, every human being appears as a wondrous and cherished creation. 

However, the new lights also remind me of a less enticing part of spiritual illumination. God’s Spirit reveals dirt just the way my fancy fixtures do. If we’re open to Christ's offer of personal renovation, over time the Spirit gradually turns up the dimmer so that bit by bit we can see our own grubbiness. 

You know what I mean. We think we’re humble until one day we realize that we still resent that person who corrected us in public. We think we’re forgiving until we realize that we scorned someone who failed in a way that we have never failed. We think we’re kind until we realize that we were annoyed when we offered a coffee to a guy on the street and he swore at us. We think we care about the world’s children until we realize we had revenge fantasies about that kid who made our daughter cry.

It is awesome how carefully the Light of the World exposes to us our shameful failures, the cobwebs in our thinking, the parts of our lives we find too comfortable to need changing. S/He never makes us feel unloved or stupid, but gently reveals the real state of affairs: we are wondrous and beloved and yet petty and ego-driven. God’s steady beam shows that we can be freed from self-hatred, judgment, envy, greed, and the rest.The best part is that once we give the go-ahead for the reno, S/He does most of the heavy lifting.

As Simone Weil wrote,  “Love is not consolation. It is light.” 

Exaltation

Attend.

The giants are dancing at daybreak. 

Spire-tall fir trees bow before an invincible windstorm, their solid wood trunks flexing at the gale’s command. 

Whipping winter branches are choreographed by coercion.

The rooted dancers bend low and spring erect, waving with irresistable reverence.

Icy bits of snow whirl through the frigid air like dervishes, abandoned to their swoops and spirals. 

Swinging on a precarious tether, wind-chimes jingle in ecstasy: "Joy, joy, joy!” 

Pearly clouds, limned by dawn with gold, hang like art in the high blue sky.  

In crescendo our white-hot star appears above the horizon, blinding any defiant human eye. Its fundamental light decrees another day of wild risk. 

Oh, Mystery. Oh, glory.

Listen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X9scMv45bkQ 

Stress in the Mess

It didn’t seem like such a big deal to take down the original acoustic ceiling tiles in the basement ceiling and hire electricians to replace our bungalow’s knob and tube wiring according to current (!) standards. When we began the preparation, I was amused by my costume of a dust mask, goggles and ball cap (don’t scare the horses). It was fun ripping out dozens of nails with a crowbar, pretending I was young and strong…until I moaned, “Okay. I’m done” and left my husband to do more than his share of the labour.

We collected estimates (web-search, emails, appointments made, cancelled and re-booked) and settled on a company owned by a good-natured young Master Electrician. Although the trappings of Christmas hadn’t even been packed away, the work began shortly after New Year’s Day.

As everyone knows, once you start even the smallest of house renovations, a troop of problems…I mean "possibilities"… pops up. We couldn’t leave the work site for long because, especially with an old house, frequent decisions have to be made on the spur of the moment. 

Wasn’t that supposed to be a dimmer switch? Is that outlet plate crooked? Are we planning to drywall there? Should this ceiling fixture be replaced? How little electricity do we need for surviving overnight? Wait – the bathroom has no lights –catch the truck before they leave!

By the third day, there were six young men hard at work throughout the house, clomping around in work boots and tool belts. The way their clothes and hands shed dirt reminds me of PigPen in Peanuts. 

Furniture, from a baby grand piano to wastebaskets had to be piled in the centre of each room so that wall outlets were accessible. Drop-cloths covering the floors were soon littered with bits of wallboard, screws and sawdust. 
I kept flinging bed sheets over bookshelves and dressers, fearing a nightmare of dusting and damp-wiping our forty years worth of vases, candle-holders and books. Before I could get to a room, favourite art pieces got shoved into corners, or single switches were installed where two were supposed to go. 
The air filled with clouds of dust and the buzz of electric drills as we stepped over gigantic spools of wire and connected our own extension cords so that we could make tea or use our desktop computer. 
At one point there was exactly one useable chair in the building. There I sat, trying to read Lauren Winner’s new book while I waited for the next consultation and counted the minutes until the gang would leave for the day.

Stressful. 

My husband and I both have noticed unusual fatigue and tension in our bodies. Our minds spin with aspects of the project and new questions we need to ask. We have little energy for any optional errands or events. We’re feeling the effects of stress.

For once we’d had the sense to think ahead about the personal/spiritual challenges of starting the construction project. We knew we’d better find the kind of light that doesn’t depend on electricity. As the days went by, we talked to each other and we talked to God. We prayed for patience and self-control in our interaction with our workers. We asked for a kind and compassionate attitude as well as the strength and wisdom to stand firm for fair business practice. 

We relieved some of our stress by going out for yummy food, taking a brisk walk in the winter sun, and watching DVD’s on the laptop instead of our disconnected TV. 

We reminded ourselves that only the wealthy in this world have the luxury of renovation frustration like ours. We listed some of the many reasons we have to be thankful and thought about what really matters in life. 

Despite the feelings of stress, so far we haven’t said anything we regret, and have had cheerful conversations with the electrical crew. No panic at miscommunications; no breakdowns over the chaos and dirt (well, hardly any). We wish we were spiritual superstars, filled with a peace that leaves no room for negative stress, but…

If, on occasion, you feel as wimpy as we do when it comes to ordinary stressors like home improvement, we recommend turning toward the light. 
Christ's promise applies to things minor and major:
I am the light of the world. 
Anyone who follows me 
will never walk in the darkness
but will have the light of life. 

Happy New Year!

"Once you choose hope, anything's possible."

- Christopher Reeve

Here are some random reasons, from the trivial to the profound, for feeling hopeful today.

The snow has stayed in Toronto for the school holidays, enough for tobogganing. Yippee! 

We currently have women premiers in five Canadian provinces. 

The “Idle No More” movement is getting attention. 

And on the other side of the world, thousands of Indians are uniting to demand justice for women and girls in their country in the aftermath of a fatal gang rape.

As we face the future, personally and globally, it’s good to read this quote from J.R.R. Tolkien,

 “The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places. But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is now mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, the greater.” 

The world, at least my world, is also full of minor frustrations and disappointments, but still there is "much that is fair."

On New Year’s Day my family decided to go out for dinner to celebrate. Sounds elegant, doesn’t it? Ha. To keep the children happy we went to the Swiss Chalet, never a first choice for excellent food but now sunken to an even lower level. Beside its traditional chicken dinners, the menu offered what all “family” restaurants seem to, everything from pizza to stir-fries. This vegetarian dutifully ate a Greek salad and a few greasy chips, while trying to engage the grandchildren and relieve their parents for a few minutes. The restaurant’s one success was its children’s activity book for which all accompanying adults were pathetically grateful.

After the usual to-do of dropped food, changing orders and conversations interrupted by trips to the bathrooms (no soap in the Ladies!), we left the pile of messy serviettes, broken crayons and half eaten meals and trooped outside. Heading for the cars, in the cold night air, I felt grateful for my dear ones, but was trying to banish my discontent. Our short time together had consisted of limited interactions and crummy food at some financial cost.

Just then I heard a cheerful little voice at my knees, “That was fun!” I bent down and kissed her three year old cheek.

Recalculating.

My New Year's resolution is to keep on looking for light every single day.

Christmas Presents

"Presents!" The shout goes out. It’s so much fun to choose a gift for someone you love, or even for a stranger in one of the charitable Christmas drives. It warms your heart. If you’re there when the gift is opened, you look forward to seeing the recipient’s face light up. And no matter how old you are or how much you own, an unexpected gift is always a pleasure.
I hope your festive week holds many happy moments as you give and receive tokens of love.

Then again, have you ever been given a gift you didn’t like at all? It’s hard to smile sincerely and express enthusiastic appreciation to the giver. I laugh at the funny videos of children opening a present they didn’t want – a little mouth opening into a wail of disappointment, a cute child suddenly throwing the disappointing gift across the room in a tantrum. To be honest, my burst of laughter quickly turns to a headshake over these visuals of human ego at its worst.

Since an evil fairy attending my birth cursed me with the unwelcome gift of a mood disorder ( as they now call depression and its fellows), I have spent many years learning to appreciate the positive. Now that I’m mostly free from the curse, I write this blog to help me and others enjoy the bright side, to be thankful for the daily gifts that life offers. 

Indeed, in this season of giving and receiving, I am conscious of the gifts that even curses like mental illness can bring. One of God’s awesome names is “Redeemer” because of the way S/He brings value to the worst disasters by re-making, out of agony and loss, carefully crafted, valuable, treasure. You and I would far rather not get the painful and disappointing surprises in the first place, but since that’s not an option, I’m glad we can hand them to the Redeemer for transformation. 

I share with you a tough comment on gift-giving from William Willimon

“…I suggest we are better givers than getters, not because we are generous people but because we are proud, arrogant people.

We prefer to think of ourselves as givers–powerful, competent, self-sufficient, capable people whose goodness motivates us to employ some of our power, competence and gifts to benefit the less fortunate. 

 [But in the birth of Christ] God wanted to do something for us so strange, so utterly beyond the bounds of human imagination, so foreign to human projection, that God had to resort to angels, pregnant virgins, and stars in the sky to get it done. We didn’t think of it, understand it or approve it. All we could do, at Bethlehem, was receive it. A gift from a God we hardly even knew.

Party on, dear readers! No matter the messiness of your Christmas..or your life, celebrate the best gift ever!

Painful Paradox

The unspeakable news from a small town in Connecticut has slapped us wide awake again. Another wrenching tragedy has shattered any dream that the next self-help guru or political effort can save us. Like a poisonous snake, evil appeared in a primary classroom, spewing death and agony in all directions. Such evil lays bare the emptiness of our explanations for the way the cosmos works. Simplistic advisors and preachers stand exposed like the emperor in his so-called new clothes. This latest horror in a world of horrors silences any religious fantasies of a Santa Claus-God who will give us what we want if we’ve only been good enough. 

In the clarity brought by this appalling lightening flash we see our powerlessness to fix the dark side of human nature. Although there is the usual outcry for solutions and preventions, honesty demands humility, an admission that we cannot end evil. Nor can we understand why our Divine Creator does not intervene in ways that would seem obvious to us. Strike the shooter dead before he can shoot! Where are you, God?

Spiritual wisdom avers that the One who gave life to these sweet children and their teachers, deeply cherishes each one, including the young man who senselessly killed them all. How can this be?

Like Job, and David, we lament again, 

“How long, Lord? Will you forget us forever? 

How long will you hide your face from us?

How long must we wrestle with our thoughts

and day after day have sorrow in our hearts?” Psalm 13

Perhaps you saw the short video that I saw in the middle of hours of TV coverage. One young teacher told about her experience of sheltering several young children in a barricaded room. As the attacker banged on their door, she thought that hers might be the last words these little ones would hear on earth. Acknowledging that her action flouted the current restrictions on teachers, she admitted that she held each child’s face in her hands, looked into their wet, frightened eyes and said “I love you and it will be alright.” 

Awesomely, she embodied God’s loving presence in the midst of unfathomable terror and destruction. 

As the devoted teacher sensed, when fear and evil strike, we need to hear those words, once written by medieval nun, Julian of Norwich, “All will be well. All will be well.” 

A life of faith accepts the aching paradox.

There came a time for Jesus when his hard and complex teachings about God’s ways for human life drove away many of his followers. (John 6) 

He turned to his devotees and asked, “Are you going to leave me, too?” 

In the centuries since, most Christians have come to a similar crisis when things like Friday’s slaughter have happened. How can I trust a God who is beyond my understanding? After many tears and much soul-searching, after research into history and theology, eventually we reply like Peter, “Jesus, to whom would we go? You have the words of unending life.”

King David cried out the “How long?” lament above, but afterward went on to write,

“But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing the Lord’s praise,
for he has been good to me.” Psalm 13

Dear Readers, through tears of empathy for those poor families, colleagues and emergency workers who could not save the children, I echo this confession from the Jewish scriptures, and gently offer the testimony that follows: 

“My heart is not proud, Lord,
my eyes are not haughty;
I do not occupy myself with things too great or too mysterious for me.” 

“But I have calmed and quieted myself,

I am like a weaned child with its mother;

like a weaned child I am content. Psalm 131

May the hurting folks in Connecticut, and we, fully grieve evil, keep working to bring healing, and yet find God’s peace in the midst.

A Wise Encircling

       Advent season begins for me on December 1, when I get out all the Christmas decorations and turn on the seasonal music for a day’s pleasure. One of the best parts is setting up five unusual Nativity crèches, none of which I bought. 

One is a sorry little scene I formed out of homemade playdough, decades ago - three sheep, and the Holy Family. When the figures were baking they puffed up so much that when one sweet relative saw them she exclaimed delightedly,
“Oh, an Eskimo crèche!” 

A prettier grouping comprises several fragile figurines, painted white and gold, packed home from Mexico by a kindhearted friend years ago. 

Then there are the four wise men from Thailand. A tiny peach-coloured stone nativity was a thoughtful present from my brother and his wife, who live in Vietnam. The “lowing” animals include an elephant and a water buffalo, complete with nose-ring.

An African creche made from glowing acacia wood, takes its place on the fireplace mantle. Accompanied by camel, lamb and donkey, the human figures are six inches tall, their carefully carved faces tipped skyward as if in awe at the mystery. A long-time friend astonished me with this loving gift one Christmas after she returned from helping out at a hospital in Angola.

The lowliest of nativity scenes in my living room is a tacky little plastic set two friends gave me as a joke, insisting I unwrap it while they watched. The set came in a small drawstring bag and my friends could hardly contain themselves, waiting for the punch line, as I drew out one ugly piece after another:  two white sheep, two cows, black and brown, one shepherd, three kings, Joseph, and Mary, all cheaply moulded and prosaically coloured. At the bottom of the bag, my fingers finally found the baby in a manger and when I saw it I yelped with laughter. The baby was covered by a pink blanket, obviously a daughter. We three feminists enjoyed a long hilarity together. 

“Why do all the statues of Mary show her with a bowed head and somber face?”

“Because she wanted a girl!” 

HaHa.

I’m grateful for this happy variety of crèches from around the world. Most of them are too breakable for children to touch, but the other day, during the chaos of a family visit, my three-year-old granddaughter was getting bored. I pointed at the plastic set strewn on a side table and told her she could play with them. Our adult conversation continued and it wasn’t until hours later that I saw the arrangement she had left behind.

There was the plastic baby, surrounded by a perfect circle of sheep, cows and humans, all facing the newborn miracle. My heart caught for an instant at my grandchild’s intuitive wisdom. I believe that God sees you and me the way I see my African crèche, as a carefully crafted work of art, rich with meaning, a cherished treasure. But sometimes we feel and act more like ugly bits of plastic trash. At least I do. 
I sat still for a moment, taking in the message. Whatever the colliding realities of life, the Christmas baby should be at the centre. 

“Christ Jesus, being in very nature God, 

did not consider equality with God

something to be used

to his own advantage; 

rather, he made himself nothing 

by taking the very nature of a servant,

being made in human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death

—even death on a cross! 

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,

that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, 

in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 

and every tongue acknowledge 

that Jesus Christ is Lord, 

to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 2)