One of my students in grade 5 (age 10) had this creative idea to ensure no one in her class would use her tissue...
Translation:" I cofet (coughed) on this so if I were you I wouldn't touch unless you want to get sick like me."(I believe this student wrote the LOL after some of her classmates told her she was being rude. She wanted to ensure she was only joking!)
Brilliant idea, isn't it?! Another school-life moment which made my day!
As I scanned the crowd from the choir loft this morning, a quote I read over at Supersimbo 's blog popped into my head:
“What is church? It’s people, broken people, pretending not to be broken and that’s what breaks it.” (The quote is from Phil Groom’s blog post http://philgroom.wordpress.com/2010/07/23/broken-church/)
So many broken people. I see it in their eyes. So many broken people trying to be brave. So many broken people mustering all the strength they have to trust God, our Healer, with their brokenness.
We've come a long way at my church. The walls of pretending- everything- is- great are being torn down. I see more vulnerableness. I see more transparency. I see less judgement. And that makes my heart happy.
I can understand why we pretend not to be broken. It requires letting go of pride, of being humble, of being exposed. Dictionary.com defines vulnerable as, "being open to attack." Sadly, there have been many in the church who have been attacked when they have shared their fractured lives. Some chose to forgive and stay while others chose to forgive and move on.
The church is to be a refuge, a safe community where broken people - and that includes ALL of us - can find freedom and release, without judgement, from our fragmented lives through our relationship with Christ.
As one who is also broken, I hope I can reflect and encourage an attitude of openness, without judgement, for the hurting people I see from the choir loft each Sunday. We are in this together. We are the church. Let's stop pretending and allow our Healer to turn our brokenness into something beautiful which fosters truth, growth and honour to our great God.
Muskoka Chair (or as my US neighbours call it, Adirondack Chair) August 2010, Port Sydney, ON
The last few weeks have been a whirlwind. Hosting my cousins from Northern Ireland was wonderful, but I must admit, a bit exhausting. I started back to work in the middle of their visit, which proved to be a bit crazy! I am glad to be back to work and back to the fall routines mind you! One of the highlights during my cousins' visit was our camping expedition to the resort I spent all my summers at when I was a pre-teen/teenager! I hadn't camped there in years. Those were some of the best summers of my life.
Memory is an amazing gift. As I ambled down the steep, dirt pathways of the trailer park through the forest on our way to the beach, I recounted to my cousin the many crazy adventures I experienced at this "cottage country" get-a-way...
jumping off the rope swing...cliff diving off the rocks of the Canadian Shield...sunbathing in the Muskoka chairs on the beach...skinny dipping...campfires...s'mores...singing around the campfire...hayrides...horse back riding...honeymoon trail...summer friends...fresh air...clear view of the bright starry sky...chipmunks eating out of your hand...raccoons rummaging through our garbage... swimming out to the dock at dusk...Friday the 13th scare through the forest paths...Midnight Madness in Huntsville... cruising into Huntsville via the river and through the locks...Port Sydney rapids...Port Sydney beach Sundays...great 80's music like Bryan Adams, The Police...breathtaking fall colours...cross country skiing in the middle of winter...winter youth retreats...aawww...sigh...
The magic of memories made me realize I was truly "home."
