Thoughts from Chickadee Lane

Shifting Shadows Winter Solstice’s Longest Night has passed and for those of us in the northern hemisphere winter officially begins today! Each day forward will bring a few more minutes of daylight as this old tilted Earth once more   miraculously makes another trip around the sun. In one way, winter launches a new year.   For centuries people everywhere have looked toward the sky.   Fisherfolk, farmers, poets and mystics have paused to acknowledge that the season is changing. To mark the occasion, last night I gathered amid candle light for a Longest Night Blue Christmas worship with friends at Harmony United. It was a lovely time to be still, to watch, to listen, to be. To remember, to shed a tear or two and give thanks. The worship offered space to reflect on the words of Sandy Tomkos: “The winter solstice is the time of ending and beginning, a powerful time - a time to contemplate your immortality. A time to forgive, to be forgiven, and to make a fresh start. A time to awaken” I am

I read somewhere that a good story doesn’t just copy life it pushes back on it. And so it is with the annual Christmas pageant.   Last Sunday I joined worship with the Long Reach United Church congregation to behold the annual Christmas pageant. It was such fun to experience the old, old story once again. To hold our breath as one of the sheep almost ignited while brushing near the candles. To enjoy a heart felt belly laugh as Jospeh, who would ordinarily be unstoppable, suddenly became Mr. Shy Man. To chuckle with a parent as they took on the role of tax collector. To be in a room filled with awe. While the haloed angel stood before us, angels were everywhere - lending a hand, encouraging the children, surprising everyone with delightful moments of laughter and awe. No matter how many times I experience the ancient story it never gets old. Each time is delightful. Memory dissolves the boundaries of time, taking my imagination through the decades to my childhood and the one room school

On Tuesday of this week the country acknowledged the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women - remembering December 6, 1989 when violent misogyny shook our country when in Montreal, 14 women were  murdered because they were women.   With the news this week I am also reminded of a travelling art exhibit, Walking with Our Sisters created to memorialize Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women.   The exhibit, consisting of hundreds of vamps (moccasin tops), visited cities across the country to bring to light the tragedy of so many murdered and missing indigenous women and girls. In April, 2015 at the Kwanlin Dun Cultural Centre, on the banks of the Yukon River in Whitehorse, David and I had the privilege to attend one of the Walking with Our Sisters exhibits in what became one of those life changing moments. Before entering the exhibit we were gifted with a smudging ceremony. Outdoors a sacred fire burned continually. (seen in above picture) Then into a large dimly

Yesterday was my birthday. And while I cannot remember anything of that birthing miracle, at times like this my imagination does go back to the birth of my three children and their birth narratives. Each birth reminding me of their manger scenes; reminding me of the miracle, wonder, hard work and fragility of new life. Which takes me to the birthday we celebrate each Christmas. And I wonder, "What do mangers look like today?” Amid the chaos, "Where are the places of new life today?" Which bring memories of another manger scene - this time at the Saint John Regional Hospital. It was a day of waiting. Waiting while David was in surgery for a bit of carpentry work on a worn knee. The hospital certainly felt like a nativity scene.   Inn keepers were there - busy, juggling who needs what. A Christmas Tree was being rebuilt amid the line up at Tim Horton’s. Expectant and weary travellers were there in need of a place to rest. SUVs, sedans, pick ups and ambulances replace donke