Mementos ... a reminder of what is really important ...

I'm becoming increasingly cynical about our culture and society lately ... As I drive to and from the larger urban centres I can't help but wonder (bordering on a rant) why we (speaking collectively) keep building such MASSIVE houses.

I honestly wonder what the appeal of having a 4000+ sqr ft home really is ... I can barely keep up keeping my little 1900 sqr foot house clean ... twice the space makes me wonder what these people do to have that kind of time ... or income to hire cleaning services ...

Really though ... when will the realization be made that ALL of this consumerism is a dead end street move beyond the Occupy Movement and the few voices that stand on the margins lamenting what we as a society and culture have lost?? When will people wake up to realize that shopping will never ease the ache within, and bigger and better just means running on a treadmill that has no end ... as I ponder this I can't help but picture George Jetson on the treadmill that he and Astro hop on at the end of the Jetson's ... once you buy into the consumerist model of "shop, shop, shop" you can't hop off until it destroys you. And the rise of shows about consumers overwhelmed by debt and spending combined with the economic meltdown in our Southern Neighbour a few short months ago, would suggest that destruction is already being felt ...

This Holiday Season, what I've come to appreciate is the value of the intangible things in our lives ... our family ... our relationships ... and the connectedness to things that money can not buy.

The picture above is the inscription in a tiny black leather bound Bible that I found amongst the detritus and mementos from my Grandparents' house that my Aunt had put out on Boxing Day for the family to choose from ... for the last few years the various items had been stored in boxes in a basement, and my Aunt and her family decided the time had come to clean some of the stuff out and let us chose our mementos and tokens to remember Grandma, Grandpa and Uncle Drake ...

Oh what a trip down memory lane it was ... pictures and wall hangings invoked recollections about where in the house they once stood ... glasses and mugs called to mind family gatherings and favourite beverages (one set of glasses had me laughing at the recollection of Uncle Drake enjoying his 'garden cocktail and rum' at Work Day, or Christmas, or Thanksgiving ...) ... and over and over the comment was made - "I remember this ..." and a story would follow.

For a brief shimmering moment, Grandma and Grandpa were there ... smiling and joining in the fun as we were once again at HOME at 58 Austin Drive, even if we were still very much standing in a basement in New Hamburg !!

Such are the power of our memories and the mementos that connect that thread of thought and recollection that we might so easily overlook in our busy consumerist lifestyle ...

What I've come to realize lately, is that one can be overwhelmed with stuff, and need to build bigger shelves, larger rooms, and even rent locker facilities to tuck it ALL away ... but in the process, you lose touch with what it is, and you no longer are able to use nor appreciate it. The extreme of this collecting is the folks we see on the Hoarder shows who are utterly and totally overwhelmed by their "STUFF" and no longer can function ...

Alas, our culture though has become oriented to this acquisition cycle that sees people shopping and collecting and amassing huge amounts of stuff ... the newest and the best ... the biggest and the brightest ... over and over we measure the value of our existence, not by the relationships we have and value, but by the standards of how much, how big, how many and how valuable our STUFF is ...

Fortunately, there runs underneath all of this a current calling on us to simplify our lives and to declutter our world. We don't need to have the biggest house, the fastest car, the most up to date tv or computer ... instead we can and should find our contentment with a simple word: ENOUGH.

Having a warm comfortable bed is enough.
Having food to eat and share is enough.
Having a safe place to sit and enjoy the circle of family and friends is enough.
Having adequate clothing that is comfortable and clean is enough.

Over and over the self-help gurus are challenging us to realize a simple truth that is ALL around us if we simply dare to look.

We don't have to opt into the rat race of buying, shopping and collecting ... instead we can opt out and look back at the simpler times when having enough was a the ULTIMATE goal.

My Grandparents' home was never huge. But it was always comfortable.
Grandma and Grandpa always had enough to look after all of us and any visitors who came along, but they also lived very simply. There was little extravagance in their lives or in their home, but there was ALWAYS quality. Quality in the food consumed, in the furniture and household goods used, and in the clothing worn. But they never flaunted, nor did they live to excess ... they epitomized the very word ENOUGH.

There is a lesson there ... one that we've lost as a culture.

We've come to think that it is the normative way of living, to have a lifestyle that EXCEEDS that of our parents. Maybe, the lesson is to seek a lifestyle that matches that of our parents and grandparents.

My grandparents lived well ... they owned a car, but often walked ... they owned a single tv, but usually spent time reading ... they owned a single black phone hanging on the wall, but usually communicated by face to face visits and hand written letters ... they owned a house with lots of space, but never filled with with clutter and stored items ... they owned a yard and had gardens producing flowers, vegetables, and fruit that was used to pass on joy and delight to others ...

My Grandparents valued the good things in life ... but never let those things supersede their family and the wonderful relationships that were nurtured over time between us ... and maybe that's the greatest lesson they have left for us: that we should and must value each other more than any of the mementos, items and things that clutter our lives with stuff.

When I look at some of the things I've gained from mom's house, and from that of my grandparents' what I see is not their momentary value, but rather the memories that lie behind it ... the Irish coins from Grandpa remind me of his War stories about the places he'd been and the sights he'd seen ... the old green fountain pen of Grandma's reminds me of the letters she wrote and the hours spent poking through her brown writing desk in the corner of the living room ... and the celery vases and other items from Mom's remind me of how Mom loved to buy beautiful things to pass on to others in the hopes they would share her appreciation of them ... but over and over, I realize that ALL of these things are just stuff. The value is within me, in the stories and memories and recollections that come to mind when I see and touch those items ...

In 50 or 100 years, the true value of the stuff will be gone when no one is left to tell the stories. The stories, crafted from memories and recollections of what was, are what are truly important, and these stories will never be held within massive houses, or distant storage lockers, and these stories will never be found in a shopping mall, or at the big block store's latest sales. Instead these stories are found when we nurture and refresh the bonds of relationships that exist within and between us as family and friends.

One day, I truly hope our society and our culture will finally realize the foolishness of our consumerist ways, and take a step back physically, economically, spiritually and emotionally ...

I'm a TRUE Canadian ...

NOT once, but TWICE over the holiday shopping I got clobbered by someone pushing a shopping cart and BOTH times I said "Oh, I'm sorry!" in response.

To recap: THEY clobbered ME, and I apologized !!!!

I am SUCH a true Canadian!! It's a Canadian thing to say "Sorry" - and when someone hits you with a cart it's almost force of habit (though, it would appear this is a Canadianism that is waning - but that's a reflection for another day).

Looking back, I have to marvel that I did it not just once, but TWICE !!!

Only in Canada they say!!

Reflection on the year that has been ...

It was a year ago that Scott called first thing in the morning and said "Mom's coming home ..." I headed off to Stratford and with the help of our Aunt and cousins, Scott and I got home and settled back where she wanted to be ... we got her bed made, laundry taken care of and her meds readied ... She wasn't happy, but she was home ...

Less than two weeks later Scott would again phone first thing in the morning to tell me Mom was gone ... she had slipped away in her sleep that morning ...

Three weeks after that I made a late night drive after being called by one of his friends who said, "We haven't heard from Scottie since Monday ... and the snow at the house isn't shovelled ... something's wrong ..."

Wrong indeed.

In a little over a month I moved from the wonder of having a Christmas at home in Ontario for the first in over 20 years, to the profound sadness of standing in the funeral chapel twice in three weeks to say good bye to my Mother and my only sibling ... in days my family dwindled ...

Looking back, I still struggle to put into words the wash of feelings that continue to ebb and flow through my being ... some days are relatively easy to move through and are punctuated with joy and laughter ... other days drag on with the burdens of memory and sadness ... overarching all of it is a sense of relief that the physical suffering both Mom and Scott endured in recent years has come to an end, and whatever lies beyond this life is a place free of sadness, sorrow and the things that burdened them.

Words can not describe how much I miss them ... I still want to pick up the phone and call Mom to tell her what the kids have been up to, or to ask her a question about something ... and as I clear through the things from the house I wish I could ask her about the history of this item or that one ... and then there are the pictures, the cards, the new paper clippings and the countless other mementoes Mom put aside for a reason ... WHAT REASON??? Many of them are a mystery to me ... and in that moment I want to ask her ...

It's been a hard year ... but it's been a rewarding year in that through my cleaning and sorting of Mom and Scott's stuff, I've learned a lot about both of them and the challenges they faced in their lives ... I've learned how much Mom and Dad loved each other (the notes and cards exchanged by them in their marriage are legion) ... I've learned how hard it was for Mom to get ANYTHING from the OPP and the various levels of Government following Dad's death on duty ... and I've learned how incredibly difficult Scott's battle for adequate compensation was following his truck accident in the early 90's ... admittedly, he didn't help himself at times, but having read through the documentation of his physical injuries I can't help but wonder if he sustained for more injuries to his person than just the aches and pains of his bones and joints ... given the dent I remember seeing in the ROOF of the truck after the accident I think it's a given that he took a debilitating WHACK on the head too ...

As I read through the bits and pieces of their lives, I'm thankful that they were and will continue to be part of my life, I'm thankful that my kids got to know them both better in the six months after our move to Ontario, and I am very thankful that they are no longer burdened by the many hassles and aggravations that were so much a part of the last couple of decades of their lives.

I miss them ... but I take solace that they are at peace ...

This Christmas I approached the season with some hesitation and reluctance ... I knew that it would be a tough time emotionally, but I was looking forward to gathering with my extended family for a good reason. Our Boxing Day gathering, along with the traditional phone calls from those family members in the diaspora, brought a soothing balm to my soul ... I may have lost Mom and Scott, and then in the subsequent weeks Mr Baumbach Indigo and my friend and Mentor Rev. Don ... but I still have a strong circle of family and friends who have blessed me with strength and care through the last few months ...

Looking back, it's been a tough year, but a good year ...

Twenty Comments about God's Love for Goths ...

It will soon be the 6th Anniversary of the fire that destroyed the Building housing the congregation of Minnedosa United Church. A new building has replaced the old, but the congregation has never been allowed to truly heal ...

I marvel at how prophetic the advice received by an American pastor I contacted after reading his book about a Church fire he experienced truly was ... he cautioned that the fire would, if handled poorly, be the least of the problems the congregation and I faced ... hmmm, six years on I look back and see the painful truth in those words - words offered in love and care and faith ... words that the leadership waved aside and ignored.

In 2007, in response to an internet site that claimed God condemns and hate those with Goth leanings, I offered a reflection on what I believe in this regard. This posting (found here) continues to generate responses from people who follow the links from that hate-filled (and unfaithful site) through to my reflection. This past week I discovered the TWENTIETH comment offered. The comment (copied at the bottom of this posting) reminds us that issues of faith are seldom easy, and challenge us to grow past the status quo.

Yearning for things that are comfortable and familiar is not in itself a bad thing, but when we stand in a place of trauma we need to embrace the fragments of the comfortable while being open to the dynamic change that is possible when we experience the transformation faith promises. God calls us to much more than we can imagine ... in Minnedosa six years ago, we were offered the opportunity to cast aside the past and embrace the future ... but anger settled in, and the response within the community was often not that different from the nonsense sputtered by web pages that claim that God hates Goths or anyone else who is different than the writer. In the case of Minnedosa, the hatred was masked with a civil smile and couched in the bureacracy of the Institutional Church ... the end result remains the same - some are acceptable and accepted, while others are rejected and discarded ... In both cases though, God weeps and trusts in the work of the Spirit to continue to transform our world despite the best efforts of humanity to the contrary.

Over and over, I continue to marvel at the truth held in the simple statement: "With God ALL things are possible."

Comments like the one that follows reminds me to trust in God not in human creations like the Church ... thankfully, the Gospel calls us to embrace all, not just a select few. Regretably, this sentiment is too often forgotten in the Church ...

I do not consider myself emo but many if fellow students call me emo. I am a strong Christian. I feel that when many people who claim Christianity don't reach out to the other gothic and emo kids they are not dong there duty to share the love of God. Infact most "Suburban Gangsters" and "normal kids" make fun of me for not listening to Eminem or Lil Wayne. These kids normally cka Christianity. I try to explain that I don't worship Satan, cut myself, or any of that stuff. I just don't like dressing Un neon colors and listening to Hip-Hop. I'm glad that a minister (other than my dad) thinks I'm (not) just going to hell. And GOD BLESS YOU REV.

Bah Humbug ...

Right now I find myself struggling with the Season and all that it represents ... some days I really don't want to get out of bed, and even on my good days I'm not really looking forward to Christmas and all that it brings ...

I am looking forward to having all three kids here, and I am looking forward to gathering with my extended family/clan for something OTHER than a Funeral ... but I enter the Holiday Season acutely feeling the absence of Mom and Scott ... and that colours everything I do, think and feel.

I am feeling particularly Scrooge like ...

What bothers me though is the response I often get to admitting that I am not feeling very Christmasy.

"Oh why not? It's a great time of the year ..." is met with a deep sigh and a struggle to unload the sorrow I feel within.

"But it's Christmas. No one should be sad at Christmas ..." brings forth the urge to say that MANY people, myself included really don't like the Holidays and this year is even more burdensome.

Overarching this I have to wonder why people feel so insistent that the Holidays MUST be joyous and happy ... Even at the best of times I have never really enjoyed Christmas and have struggled to throw on a happy face ... this year at least I can stumble into the Season with those around me knowing and ACCEPTING that it will be a difficult journey for me, and that makes this more bearable.

This year, instead of wishing folks a facetious "Merry Christmas", I for one, will unapologetically be amongst those who stand in the deep darkness and know in time the words of the ancient prophet will come to pass, and we will once again find ourselves bathed in light ...

... and that is perfectly acceptable!