Why do I have a variety of friends who are all so different in character? How is it possible that I can get along with them all? I think that each one helps bring out a “different” part of me. With one of them I am polite. With another I joke, with another I can be a bit naughty. I can sit down and talk about serious matters with one. With another I laugh a lot. I listen to one friend’s problems. Then I listen to another one’s advice for me.

school friends

I have learned more about God, His Father, like a head of the house role model. The father (God) teaches the son (Jesus Christ), who in flesh, speaks the words, and teaches us, his community of faith, to embrace as friends, Everyone! There is a higher level of respect and reverence we have for God, as again, we have for parents of our friends. We know that one’s character is shaped by the influence of one’s parents; therefore, we know that Jesus is the extension of God, his Father.

Jesus, needed a group of close friends to help spread God’s will, so as you know he recruited 12 friends, we also call “His Disciples”. They came from a variety of backgrounds and places and spaces within their own lives. But they all chose Jesus, to be “their closest friend”. They continued with Jesus Christ’s mission after He was gone, through word and deeds, like friends would do today. You will recall we do this in fights against cancer or heart and stroke awareness, and many medical issues, as families and friends rally against health awareness and other many injustices in this world today, in memory of past loved ones. Christianity is alive and well in the world, as well.

Real age doctors tell us that friends are good for our health. Dr. Oz, first promoted through Oprah’s shows, calls them “Vitamin F” (for Friends) and counts the benefits of friends as essential to our well being. Just Google: Dr. Oz’s Research on Friends, and read the “7 Steps to Reduce Stress”, note #1, which states “Meditation” and #7 which refers to “Enjoy the Company of Friends”. Oprah’s website articles from Woman’s Health links: The Hidden Benefits of Friendship and “More than a Shoulder to Cry On: The Surprising Benefits of Friendship…by Lauren Dzubow. This research shows that people in strong social circles have less risk of depression and terminal strokes, by reducing their stress levels.

If you enjoy Vitamin F constantly, you can feel up to 30 years younger than your real age. The warmth of friendship stops stress and even in your most intense moments, it decreases the chances of a cardiac arrest or stroke significantly. I’m so happy that I have a stock of Vitamin F! Some of my friends are friends online. I know I am part of their Vitamin F because their names appear on my computer screen every day and I feel blessed that they care as much for me as I care for them. So I forward this story.

In summary, we should value our friends and keep in touch with them. We should try to see the funny side of things and laugh together and pray for each other in the tough moments. We should work together in our church community and beyond the church walls into our world community. We need to expand our circle of friends constantly. We should take our turn at leadership, as disciples of faith, inspired by the words and deeds of Jesus Christ. We should do this out of love for our families and friends, and share the good news of the values of Vitamin F!
Thank You for being one of my Vitamins!!
“For Best Results Take Daily !!”

From one friend to another…this Blog is for you!

From the Pews blog

This fall has been a difficult time for me. I’m not sure all the reasons why, but lately I have been feeling very down in the dumps. It seems as though no matter what I do or how hard I try, things aren’t working out the way that I want or need them too. I have spent a lot of time feeling a bit sorry for myself, walked over, put upon and just not my usual cheerful self.

One of the areas that has been difficult for me is at Sunday School. We have done quite a few new things this year, and I have been worried that the lessons we are teaching and the activities that we are doing with the kids aren’t having much impact. The work that goes into planning and executing Sunday School is tremendous, and while I have always really enjoyed doing this work, the past few months have been tough.

In the last couple of weeks though, these kids have given some things back to me, which has taught me a valuable lesson.

The first was the Sunday School kids performing their songs and poems during our Advent celebration. They got up on stage and did a fantastic job and I was so proud of them. That they are willing to stand up in front of so many people in the first place is pretty cool, but then they just belted out those songs and poems and it made me feel so glad.

The second thing was one of our Sunday School moms told me that even though her son will stand very quietly during a performance, or during class, he goes home and sings the songs and talks lot’s about the things he does in Sunday School!
The last thing was a little girl who attends our Sunday School and also attends the same school as my son drew me a picture and gave it to me at school. This may seem as though it is a small thing, but on the day she gave it to me, I was having a really tough day, and it made me smile when not much else would. That she would think of me and want to do something nice for me was so sweet, and much appreciated!

So in the end, I have been feeling much happier as Christmas comes closer, the problems that seemed so big a couple months ago are working themselves out and I am sure fit into God’s plan somewhere. In the end, the kids who I was worried weren’t getting the lessons, ended up teaching me a valuable one. And that truly is a wonderful gift.

From the Pews blog

“There will always be enough.”

After we all did our best to eat the prodigious amounts of food that had had been prepared for our annual Fall Supper last Sunday, and after a small band of dedicated volunteers had done the massive cleanup, there were still a lot of leftovers. Maybe we didn’t exactly feed five thousand, but there were close to twelve basketfuls left. The organizers, being the thoughtful and engaged folks that they are, immediately thought of the West Broadway Drop-in Centre; and on Monday morning Barb McMullen hauled the leftovers to Crossways in time for lunch, having let the staff know that food was on the way.

Meanwhile, a challenging day had begun to unfold at the Centre. The kitchen manager, a local woman who does this formidable task without pay (!!!) did not show up, nor was she able to tell us that she would be absent. The second-in-command (let’s call her Sally), a tiny, quiet woman with a military bearing and an impressive capacity for work, was there to receive the food and get it placed in the ovens of the three kitchens we share with the other tenants of Crossways, so it would be warm when lunchtime arrived. But she had previously made a medical appointment for the noon hour, and so further preparations had to be made by a cobbled-together group of volunteers, some more experienced than others and some more vocal than others. Unfortunately, the more vocal are not necessarily the wiser ones, and no one was exactly in charge. Soon, a kitchen fire broke out. It was not serious enough to summon the Fire Department, but it gave the Centre an unpleasant smell, and it did nothing to bring a sense of calm to the kitchen staff.

I arrived on the scene after the fire was extinguished, about a half hour before our UCiM leftovers were to be served. Lynda Trono, our interim minister now nearly two months into the position, was bravely and wisely trying to bring order out of what was beginning to look like chaos. Her day was already full before any of these developments had begun. Knowing her as well as I do, I thought I could see her figuring out how much attention she could give to the matter at hand without abdicating other important responsibilities. I did not envy her the dilemma. While I could imagine her rising sense of panic, she was displaying a calm but vigorous and encouraging presence to the volunteers, many of whom have a well-practiced aptitude for feeling like failures. The question was: how can we serve these elaborate meals from the numerous aluminum pans while confined to our tiny, smoke-saturated kitchen? It answer was to try something we never do at the Drop-in Centre – a buffet dinner.

Soon folding tables had been set up in the hallway leading to the sanctuary. Volunteers were dispatched to begin bringing the trays of food from the distant ovens, and scrounging whatever could supplement our too few serving spoons. Lynda and Bill, our most senior member of the Pastoral Care team, were organizing the order of serving: the physically handicapped first, the volunteers second, the rest called one table at a time. Except for the first category, everyone was expected to serve themselves. This turned out to be a questionable decision, but it seemed to make sense at the time. Grace was said, some enthusiastic “amens” were heard, and the meal began.

A half-hour before it looked as if it might be a fairly slow day. By now things had changed dramatically. One of the fascinating things I have observed at West Broadway is how quickly the word spreads outside the building when a hot meal is served or some other unexpected opportunity occurs. Within a few minutes of the beginning of the feast, the line-up was out the front door. We had expected sixty; now we had over one hundred mouths to feed. What would happen when we ran out?

Some have argued that those who experience injustice have a stronger sense of justice than those who are privileged. That has not been my experience. Our feast this week rather illustrated how those who have been treated unfairly by life continue to expect such treatment. Some respond passively; others with overt hostility. Those who came early to the table – our volunteers from the community, people I consider my friends, people who know first-hand how needy the folks are who visit us – these folks loaded up on food as if at a buffet they had paid for, with little or no heed of the scores in line behind them. Other folks, seeing the food disappearing, got into line without being called. Some voices of protest were raised, some looked sullenly resigned. The efforts of the minister and pastoral team were largely overcome by the sheer volume of voices and bodies. “This will be a learning experience for us,” I thought.

Then came the small, quiet miracle. There was enough. Somehow, everyone who stuck around got fed. When the turkey was gone, the meatballs continued. When the stuffing was gone, folks seemed pleased to eat turnips. When the gravy was gone, the folks at the back of the line enjoyed their mashed potatoes with some of our cheap margarine. I thought how easy it is for us who know that eventually we will be fed to be patient at our feasts, whether at church or with family. But for these folks at West Broadway, it is not easy to wait at the end of the line for leftovers. I remembered the sermon on food security last Sunday. Suddenly, its meaning took on a new depth for me. I realized how well I had been fed.

Finally, it grew quiet in the Drop-in Centre. It was mid-afternoon, and the crowds had eaten and gone. The ones who worked in the kitchen were tired, and Sally, who had returned in the middle of the feast, was feeling as if her wisdom and experience had been shoved aside in the decision to serve a buffet. But as we sat down together to take stock, a quiet sense of surprising accomplishment settled upon us. Everyone had been fed. And there were no leftovers.

From the Pews blog

Too often we speak of the need for prayer only when it becomes clear that we do not know what to do.

This morning we had a meeting of the Pastoral Care team at West Broadway Community Ministry. It was our first meeting with our interim Community Minister, Lynda Trono. Some of you will remember her from her days on Conference Staff, especially her work with youth. Everyone was glad to greet Lynda and wish her well. The two volunteers who have borne the brunt of leadership duties since Bob Gilbert left for Augustine United Church two months ago were thanked for their labours. They seemed genuinely relieved to put down their burden.

 The two months without a professional, full-time leader have left some problems. These are in addition to the usual summer problems of too little in food donations, too few volunteers, and lots of new faces. Many of these are transients. We are glad to serve them, but, in a community largely composed of folks made fragile by illness and poverty, the assimilation of newcomers brings extra volatility to the mood of the drop-in centre. The presence of our new Community Minister will bring a greater sense of stability.

One of the problems we wrestled with this morning was the poisoned relationship between Barry and Rod (from here on, these are not the real names). Barry is a large, formidable looking man who has been in the community longer than I have. He is present regularly, sitting quietly near the center of the room, where he visits with some of our other regulars. Over the years, but especially in recent months, he has come to be appreciated as a calming presence, someone the pastoral care team can count on make his presence quietly obvious on those thankfully rare occasions when we have to ask someone who is being troublesome to others to leave. You might call him a bouncer, but we don’t have bouncers in the United Church, and he has never actually had to lay hands on anyone, at least in the Centre.

Those with whom Barry chooses to converse learn at least one thing about him: there are people he likes and people he doesn’t like. I have learned that if I spend much time talking with someone he doesn’t like, he will still tolerate me; but he makes it clear that he suspects my friendship of being promiscuous. Ordinarily, Barry’s division of his social world into the acceptable and the unacceptable causes no problem for the Centre, because he is quiet, and simply ignores those whose ways offend him.

The present problem emerged with the arrival of Rod, the newest member of our Pastoral Care team. Unlike me, who had no previous acquaintance with the community and took the better part of a year to be fully accepted, Rod was already familiar with the West Broadway area, and already knew many in our drop-in community, having helped them in another context. Rod instantly had some authority at the Centre, and that offended Barry. Over the summer, with no Community Minster on the scene, both Barry and Rod were called upon to fulfill greater roles than ever before, and these roles brought the two into situations of conflict. Barry began to let the rest of us know of his negative judgment about Rod in ways we cannot ignore, and Rod feels attacked in a way we would never choose to ignore.

That was the problem as it came before us this morning. Many views of the matter were expressed, all having some wisdom to contribute, but some seeming contrary to others. Some saw verbal behaviour and attitude that calls for rebuke and correction. To do nothing would be to enable a poor behavioural pattern, and bring extra stress into the community. Others saw Barry as one who has been thrust into responsibilities for which he was ill-prepared and constitutionally unsuited. They recognised the role given to Barry had given him a kind of social recognition, even status, which he had never before experienced. The change had perhaps awakened within him a destabilising sense of self-importance, now being expressed through his surprisingly vocal negative comments about Rod.

Faces turned toward Lynda expectantly, even as we realised we were asking her to find a solution for a problem we had helped to create. Lynda listened carefully, but wisely had no wisdom to offer before she got to know and work with the parties involved. It was obvious that we would all need to pray about our situation.

Too often we speak of the need for prayer only when it becomes clear that we do not know what to do. We ask God to clean up our mess, or at least let us know how to do it, but with little conviction that our prayer will be answered. This morning’s meeting was a good reminder that prayer needs to be constant, and that, as with any good conversation, prayer requires a generous amount of listening, both to the still, small voice that speaks within, and to the voice that speaks through the wisdom and the pain of others.

From the Pews blog

“Time, like an ever rolling stream, bears all her sons away”
from Isaac Watts’ paraphrase of Psalm 90

We travelled West earlier this month, as far as Lethbridge and Calgary. The countryside between Winnipeg and the foothills is reputed to be flat and boring. We have never found it so. Everywhere the Canadian prairies are marked by the mile-deep sheet of ice that covered it 20,000 years ago, by the massive glaciers that were left when the ice sheet retreated, by the mighty rivers that carved out awesome valleys from western Manitoba to the foothills. The land has a history, a past that speaks itself to all those who take the time to look.

The Bow River gave us a little lesson as we drove from Lethbridge to Calgary. Approaching Calgary from the southeast by anything other than a major highway will lead to the realisation that bridging the Bow is not something to be undertaken lightly. The several dead-ends we encountered were at least scenic as well as frustrating.

One city defined by a river valley is Saskatoon. Just over 100 years ago people of European origin began to settle there in the aftermath of the second Riel Rebellion, in which the exercise of military might had made First Nations’ claims to justice moot until our own time. Exactly 100 years ago some forerunners of The United Church of Canada established St. Andrew’s College to educate Christian ministers to serve those increasing numbers of settlers. Lynn and I were there for the celebration, as Lynn represents our Conference on the St. Andrew’s Board. The College has served well through many changes, and continues to offer both academically sound and culturally relevant theological education.

Graduates of that institution, and of United College here in Winnipeg, were prominent among those who began in the 1970s to raise the issue of recognition for the injustices done to First Nations by the European invasion a century before, and continued by our failure to recognise and respond to the dreadful damage we had done. These efforts led in the 1980s to the formal apologies by the United Church to our First Nations sisters and brothers, apologies that led other denominations and the Federal Government to take similar steps. Since then we have been walking a path toward reconciliation and renewal with First Nations people, a path that is far from ended, but which gives the promise of justice.

One of my greatest teachers, Hannah Arendt, wrote that human actions are irreversible. Our choices and deeds set us on paths which, once taken, allow no return. That is part of the tragic dimension of human life. But, Arendt went on to write, humans have been gifted with a power that allows us to overcome the irreversibility of action, to swim upstream against the rivers of time that bear us all away. That power is the power of forgiveness. Those who have heard the Good News know that the power of forgiveness is a gift from God who, in Christ, has shown us most clearly the human face of forgiving love, and offered that power to us. The Good News proclaimed by the graduates of schools such as St. Andrew’s has helped begin the process of repentance and forgiveness that will overcome the irreversible consequences of a century and more of injustice.

Forgiveness as a human power can only be given to others. How tightly bound our lives would be without this power! We would be forever at the mercy of the irreversible consequences of those flawed human beings with whom we are fated to live. Offering forgiveness allows us to begin again in our relationships, something we surely need every day.

But what about that flawed human being from whom we are never apart? If we cannot forgive ourselves, and those around us are either unaware of our need for forgiveness or are unwilling to give it, how can we not be swept away by the current of our past? In Christ, we become aware that God has forgiven us, even before we know our need for it. Where the Bow Rivers of our past choices and deeds have cut great valleys in our lives, God’s forgiving love provides the bridge we need to get to the other side, to a life of peace and justice. Our gratitude for that gift motivates our forgiveness of others.

From the Pews blog