Sun, Surf and Sanctuaries

-

Today’s offering comes to you from Portugal.

We are in the last week of almost four weeks of life in Portugal.

For the first 11 days of this adventure we were part of a bus tour with 42 fellow travellers along the way. Strangers on day one, became friends swapping contact info by day eleven.

Amid an eclectic group of travellers, it is interesting how the conversation changed as days unfolded. Polite dinner conversation prevailed for the first few days. Then politician opinions and idiosyncrasies began to surface. That’s when the conversations really got interesting... everyone trying to speak their truth while tip toeing around potential hot button issues.

Overall, moving amid people from many different countries, mostly European, has been a sort of Pentecost experience. That is, the air is filled with many different languages. Still... those from many different nations, speaking different languages are able to understand each other, each speaking in their own language. That is the gift of travel. If we listen, there is a common language of basic human needs - food, bathroom, what time does the bus arrive. We can understand and be understood.

There are many pictures to share of sun, surf and sanctuaries. For those readers on Facebook you may have seen a few photos from along the way.

The bus tour has taken us around the country to many places that served as sanctuaries for a time. Especially churches built many centuries ago. We see ancient walls built by various dynasties who have come and gone - the Celts, the Romans, the Moors (Muslim), the Christians. Today many churches are preserved as national historical sites. Throughout the centuries, each power seemed intent on destroying, then building upon what was built before. If there is a lesson to observe standing on the ruins of those who have gone before, it is that every empire eventually falls. Love and justice prevail.

I could go on and on listing historical sites. However, thinking of sanctuaries as places where people feel safe, I would rather share a couple of holy encounters. That is, ordinary places of sanctuary where strangers feel safe enough to laugh with one another and celebrate what it means to be human.

One such encounter was with Mersa, a server at a restaurant in Portimao, Portugal. A delightful Portuguese women filled with a lively Spirit and beautiful smile. (See picture. She gave me permission to use her picture) A snake is tattooed on her arm.

I asked about the snake. “It is for my daughter,” Mersa replied.

“Your daughter?“ I asked.

“Yes, my daughter.“ “She’s four.”

Mersa continued, “Like a snake sheds it’s skin, when I became pregnant, I changed. My body changed. My Spirit changed. I changed. I am a different person... for my daughter.”

Isn’t that the truth?

Another gift of travelling I enjoy is people watching.

Such as tonight. We were walking home to our hotel after dinner and happened to walk along with two beautiful black women. It was amusing to witness their attempts at selfies. (That is taking pictures of themselves.) One couldn’t help notice their make up. Especially the unique eye lashes. At least unique for these two country folk who found it difficult not to stare. Or at least not get caught staring!

As luck would have it, we ended up at the same hotel. And the same elevator ride. We chatted about the night.

David could not resist and finally asked, “How do you get such eyelashes?”

Without batting a lash, one of the women quickly responded, “Are they too much for you?”

After a nanosecond of awkward silence, David replied, “Nothing like that is too much.”

They laughed, rolled their eyes at us. And we all laughed. They graciously explained about the fake eyelashes.

We explained we were from Canada. They from London, England. Together we laughed.

It was another lovely moment of sanctuary - of strangers finding sanctuary in an elevator in a foreign land.

May it be so on whatever road you travel.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

From Solar Collectors to Strum Sticks

-
Image
For over 23 years, on most Thursday afternoons, you would find D ave, D avid and T ed, the DDT Team, gathered in Ted's workshop to build something. There you could find almost every tool known to humanity. Sometimes in triplicate! They would build things, complain about the state of the world, curse a few politicians and end the afternoon with a beverage often fortified with rum. The strength of the rum would vary as Ted sailed the seven seas - offering access to a diversity of flavours.   Construction projects began from a need. For example, Ted needed to haul heavy logs out of the woods, so their first project, a ‘yankee yarder’ winch was built.   Construction plans were discussed. Drawings created. The welder fired up. Metal bent and twisted. There you have it - a powerful piece of equipment ready to move any size log anywhere.    Earth needed to be moved. So the DDT team built a utility trailer. The strongest utility trailer you will find in NB. A trailer you could tip with one
Read more

Through the Valley

-
Image
These past few weeks I have been walking through the valley of death.   My oldest brother, Robert, who lived in PEI, had been unwell for the past few years and hospitalized off and on for the past few months. On March 17, I received word that he would be receiving ‘comfort care’ only. On March 18, a crazy weather day of hail, wind, rain, sun and rainbows, word came that my brother’s soul took flight. It’s strange this thing we call death. We know we are all going to take that trip. For as someone said, it is the “high cost of living.” Still. In recent years my brother and I were not particularly close. Time, distance and different interests, took us into different circles. Still when death happened, I became that 7 year old little sister and tears and memories flowed. Memoirs of playing ball with big brother. Building forts in the woods and hay loft. Walking home from the one room school house. Picking potatoes on cool September days.   Memories of driving in his first car. Walking dow
Read more

Not a Guy

-
Image
Rainbow photo from our back yard. It is with humility that I offer today’s thoughts from Chickadee Lane - a critique of the use of the word ‘guys’ to address all people - a bee in my bonnet, a thorn in my side. Some might say that I am the last one to critique how we use language. For with my Island accent I drive on ‘slippy’ roads and often drop the ‘g’ as "I am goin’ to town.” I who have confused every church music director by mixing up hymn numbers. I who can never quite understand when to use ‘I’ and when to use ‘me’. To the point that in my early ministry a women of the congregation, frustrated with my mixing up ‘I’ and ‘me,’ presented me with an English grammar book, “The Use of I”! And to you who read this blog, you already know I am not an expert in grammar and have never figured out when to use a semicolon.   Still… I am not a ‘guy’! My protest is about the use of the word ‘guys’ to address all genders. I am old enough to recall when male exclusive language was used for a
Read more