The Rhythm of Summer

I remember lying on the grass in front of the band shell at Ontario Place under a summer night sky, listening to Canadian jazz legend Oscar Peterson relax every bone in my body at the same time as he energized every corner of my spirit. I was so happy to be alive and so grateful for the memory I knew I was making.

Maybe because we Canadians know just how valuable summer is, most of us have memories like that—a hot sticky day that ends in the cool lake, a quiet canoe moment floating alongside a loon, a breezy ride in a convertible, a bite of ripe peach that squirts juice down your chin, a sunset seat on the end of a dock—those magical summer seconds when time holds still and we “feel” our own presence in the world with more joy than usual.

Summer creates a space for most of us to step back a little from the pace and de- mands that crowd the rest of the year. Summer begs us to remember that creation is good, that we are good, and that hope is an awfully good traveler—because it remains resilient come what may.

As I write those words I know that some may not be so sure about hope as I am. Perhaps it’s the season of my own life that gives me such bravado, but I’m pretty sure that when we release hope from our expectations, and let them be different, hope comes with an unfailing truth. And that’s what I think brushed up against me at Ontario Place many years ago, but also many years since in different ways. Hope says “hello” every time I drive with the mountains as good company. Hope nudges my elbow when a crusty soul cracks open with a laugh. Hope passes over with the hawk that dances with the air currents. Hope tucks me in at night when I read my evening prayer from the book Celtic Benediction that my soul sister Gerry Scharff gave me a few years ago.

This summer, how will hope come to you? And how will it lead you forward for all that lies ahead at work, at home, at school, and yes, at Lakeview United Church? Look for it. Wait for it. Greet it with a warm welcome. After all, it’s summer.

with you in ministry, Diane.

The Cradle of Lent

Dear friends in faith,

Lent is well-launched with Communion and a great sermon by Vicki McPhee.  Through Vicki, God invited us to embrace this season before Easter as a waiting time in which grace has “elbow room” to accomplish the things we weren’t even thinking about. 

But even before the first Sunday in Lent, something special had already happened. As in years past, some of us went over to St. Laurence Anglican Church for their Ash Wednesday service and Holy Communion. It’s always special to me because I get to be present in the congregation singing and praying beside my own parishioners, walking with them to the rail for the imposition of ashes, and then a second time for the elements of bread and wine. The Rev. Anna Greenwood-Lee is a gracious presence who makes us feel so welcome. Her words are deep and wise. Her faith—obvious. Each year I receive something special from this ministry, but this year there was a new clarity.

As I heard the familiar words “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” I felt my vulnerability—not just to sin—but to so many things. I wanted to cradle my mortality—hold it carefully so that I could really know it. And if I lived each day of Lent cradling my mortality, what would I discover?

So far, every single day has felt more significant. I live a whole day, lungs breathing, heart beating. Then I close my eyes, fall asleep and with no effort I keep going through night—lungs breathing, heart beating. It’s a gift every single day and night, because during the day I spend time with people living on the edge of their mortality, in the drama of facing real limits, succumbing to them and occasionally surpassing them. Family, caregivers, medical personnel and I try to cradle their mortality with reverence, skill, commitment and love.

But there was more to come. The catastrophic devastation of earthquake and tsunami in Japan seemed to mock the very idea of cradling anyone’s mortality. But even in the face of such unimaginable loss, within hours there were pictures on the news of Japanese adults passing babies and children from arm to arm, getting them to safety—cradling their youngest ones’ mortality. Within days more pictures of people from around the world getting off airplanes with supplies, medical teams, others leading recovery teams of specially trained dogs—everyone ready to cradle the mortality of a whole nation, one way or another.

For me, Lent has become a cradle in which my mortality rests just long enough for me to grasp the miracle of its persistence and the love that is required to respect it.  Will I ever be careless with it again? Perhaps. But when Lent is done and death has done its worst, I will hear again in the Gospel that found me years ago—the Holy miracle of God’s persistence and the Holy love that makes Life stronger than death. I will “Remember that I am dust, and to dust I shall return”. But I will also remember that I am a child of God, and loved with a love that is stronger than death.

And into that cradle of Lent, let us lean back into grace of God together.

With you in ministry,
Diane.

The Undivided Life

At Christmas, we celebrated the birth of Jesus, in whom we see full humanity and full divinity revealed and living in unity. Jesus shows us what it looks like to live an undivided life.

In these weeks since Christmas, we are exploring what it means for us to live an undivided life—a life in which all that is human and all that is holy work together in harmony. What kind of spirituality will enable us to live that way? What are the spiritual practices with which we create undivided and abundant lives of meaning, joy and growth? How can we avoid becoming in conflict with ourselves? What does it really mean to follow Jesus, and live an undivided life?

These are not new questions: they are ancient and enduring questions that belong to every generation. How is your generation answering them? How are you answering them?

With open hearts, souls and minds, we come together at Lakeview United Church to challenge ourselves and each other to the path of the undivided life. And in Christian worship, service, study and relationships all ages may come to experience God’s life-changing love.

With you in ministry,
Rev. Diane Strickland

Together at the stable door, together under one roof — A Special Christmas offering

For some years now, Lakeview United Church has been living with a leaky roof that has lived well past its lifespan. We have “worked the pots” and “patched the spots” in every effort to manage one year more. We are so grateful to everyone who has contributed to getting us through to this point. But now, we have to deal with the roof.

The Board of Lakeview United Church, after reviewing a roof inspection replacement report established a capital fund-raising campaign of $150,000. Don Rigby announced this campaign on the last Sunday of Pledgefest and introduced our mascot, “Roof-Us”, the dog who only has one message—Roof! Roof!  This year, we have designated the Christmas Offering Envelope to this purpose. It would be great to end this year with a good start on this large and necessary project.

Our goal is to have the roof replaced and paid for by our 50^th Anniversary in 2012. We hope everyone will be inspired to help keep a roof over our heads. Tax receipts are issued. Please find a special Christmas Offering Envelope for this purpose enclosed in this mailing.

Thank you and may God bless us, everyone!

Daryl Sedor,
Board Chair

Advent and Christmas 2010

Dear Sisters and Brothers,

We are now moving in sacred time. Advent has us in its beam of blue light; holding us, preparing us, awakening us to a story of unlikely wonder and unreasonable purpose.

Christmas is coming, and we will have yet another opportunity to follow the journey of an ancient hope into the lives of a poor young woman of great faith and the man she will marry. We will hear again of their struggle to trust God and each other, the arduous trip to Bethlehem to fulfill a bureaucratic requirement that transforms into the fulfillment of God’s promise to be with us. We will stand near the stable under a night sky stuffed with stars and our spirits will see one special star over all of us. And then we will decide. Will the humility of God’s love be enough to bend us toward it—a little closer, for a little longer?

Every shiny decoration, every great Christmas chorus, every favorite carol, every string of lights, every lavish gift, every laden table and every great place of worship, must lay down its greatness at the stable door, and bend to the God who is bending toward all creation. Let us be a part of that company this Christmas. And let us take the journey together. See you at the stable, on Christmas Eve.

Blessings to you and all those you love, from your minister,

Diane