why I'm part of a church

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I've been trying to formulate it into a blog post in my head. And I can't quite figure out how to do it in one neat, tiny post. So this may just be part one of this topic. So beware.

There are so many reasons NOT to go to church. Like too busy, boring, hypocritical, conservative, heads stuck in the sand, irrelevant, tiring, same old same old been there done that, and sleeping in on Sundays. And then there's the whole "I can find God in nature" one. I'm sure there are tons more. All of these have been excuses at some point in my life.

Church can be a struggle for me. Like when I was younger and was told by someone at church that doubting was not good. "Real Christians don't doubt," he said. But doubting has been a path to faith for me. As I've grown up, I've learned that there's room in the church for all: doubters and believers alike. And as an adult, I've chosen to be part of a church. In particular, the Mennonite church.

Here are some reasons I go to/am part of church, in no particular order:

* It cracks me open. Sometimes in big ways, sometimes in tiny ways. But the cracks let in a little bit of light. Like this quote:

There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen

* I get a weekly dose of hope. And a vision of how the world could be.

* Sometimes a song or a sentence will bring a tear to my eye. For no good reason. Probably light getting through a crack.

* I want to be part of a caring community that nurtures faith and looks for glimpses of God in the everyday. I want that for my kids too.

* I want my kids to think outside of themselves. To know there is a larger world out there. Sometimes a prayer will bring a world event into our awareness in a different way.

* Potlucks.

* Peace, justice, and service to others are spoken of, encouraged, and modeled. I'm challenged to engage in my world. To change my world. To make a difference.

* I get a brain re-boot each week if I let myself. If I'm open to being changed by a word or a song, it's amazing what can happen. After I fight with my husband (yes, we fight) I need to hear something of grace, forgiveness, and moving on.

* The silence can be profoundly loud. I am less selfish in the silence, and I hear whispers of God's voice. Sometimes. If I'm quiet enough. I wish there were more moments of silence at church. Being silent together with others is a profound experience for me. When I let it be.

* It helps me dive deep into the mysteries of life.

in a light-filled chapel in Elgin, Illinois

Tortellini

I'm still on the topic of the weekend fair. We enjoyed so much about that day, but the best part about going to the fair was that we found a baby turtle and named it Tortellini.

This baby painted turtle was adorable. I'd never seen one so small - about two inches in diameter. We found it on the gravel near the bleachers after the horse show. No water in sight, and lots of big feet everywhere.

Eden picked it up and cared for that little thing like her life depended on it. She carried it around - bringing it on the ferris wheel and carefully cradling it as she walked around the fair. She plopped it down beside her for the demolition derby.

The man at the reptile tent (yes! There was a reptile tent!) told us to bring it to some freshwater - a shallow creek or a pond - within the next week.

So the next day, Eden bravely released the turtle at my aunt and uncle's pond after our Thanksgiving meal. And could it ever swim! It was so wonderful to watch.

We a created a little movie last night to remember sweet little Tortellini (for short: Tort). Because releasing is hard, but the memory is sweet.

For short, Tort from Rebecca Seiling on Vimeo.

thanksgivings

I was so absorbed with the fair on Sunday, that I didn't take much time to pause and think about what I'm thankful for this year. So I'm doing it now. What a perfect, perfect Thanksgiving weekend it was: sunny, warm enough for shorts, and colourful leaves all around. I felt like the thankfulness was bubbling up inside of me all weekend, and now it's about to overflow:

* for colour, for another beautiful autumn.

* for family: for a stronger marriage, and 3 beautiful girls to share life with this year.

* for new experiences that stretch and form us - our latest: hosting a teenage daughter from Afghanistan.

* to live in a place where I don't fear for my life or my family's lives.

* for creative, fulfilling work.

* for a house, even if it's not my dream home. It's a home, which is more than many have.

* for time to think and read and worship and write.

* for friends.

* for inspiration from others.

* for more than enough: food, time, money, love.

* for the moving of the spirit that gives life.

the magic of a fall fair

Some friends tipped us off to a great little fall fair happening this past weekend: the Rockton World's Fair. I had this craving for an autumn small town fair. It had been years since I had been at one. We went on Sunday, and we were not disappointed. It was everything I'd hoped for and more:

healthy food like caramel apples,

gravy-smothered poutine,

and many deep-fried possibilities

a peaceful ride on the ferris wheel, a stunning view of the Niagara escarpment
complete with heavy metal music in the background

horses

and, of course, a demolition derby

The afternoon was magic. Pure magic. At first, I scoffed at the idea of sitting through a demolition derby. But after the first round, I was hooked. The noise, the smell of gasoline - these almost faded into the background. I was rooting for the underdog - or sometimes just the one in second place. And things could turn in a second - the one you thought was a shoe-in would all of a sudden get hit, spin around, and be unable to move. We could NEVER predict who would come out on top. And I liked that. I also loved how all of the cars came out to start the race looking like this yellow one above: like crap. Wheels wobbly, tires on the front but not the back, bumpers barely hanging on, coughing, sputtering, ready for one more round of glory.

yoga as worship

I remember the first time I did yoga, about 16 years ago. I loved it. But I remember hearing some people say that it wasn't a Christian kind of thing to do, and that if I open myself to yoga, who knows what might creep into my spirit. I could be opening the door to the occult, encouraging demons to reside inside of me, and worshiping false gods, just to name a few.

Well, here I am: 16 years later, and I've taken yoga classes off and on over the years. And still loved it. Except for one teacher who I couldn't really quite believe was real. She told us, "Everyone has India inside of themselves." (She wasn't Indian, and had never been there.) I asked her after class, "What about Switzerland? Does everyone have Switzerland inside of themselves too?"And she just smiled and told me that India is a state of mind, and you can have it or not have it. She had it.

She was more than a bit distracting during some of the poses in class. When I'd just want to breathe and calm my mind, she'd be encouraging us, "That's it! Just reach up, up, up, like a great big flower. Can you feel it? Ahhhh! That's it! Stretch up to the sun! Feel its warmth! Feel its heat pulsing and its rays warming your skin. Drink it in! Stretch, little flowers!" A bit too much for me.

So that was not such a worshipful feeling, to be mocking her in my head while trying to get something out of the yoga class. But I've had other teachers who have made me think and believe and dig deeper inside myself and have pointed the way. And the beauty of it was that they weren't pointing to their way, but helped me point deeper into my way. Am I making any sense, or am I sounding like India-flower-yoga-teacher?

Anyway, I was reminded again this evening of how worshipful yoga can be. With my body stretching, hand raised up, my gaze following it, I can feel like I'm doing the best thing I can be with this temple-body I've been given. Tree pose is a favourite too - with hands together above my head in prayer position, my foot rooted into the ground, my vision focused on a single point in front of me. It can feel like genuine worship.

"The whole person, with all his senses, with both mind and body, 

needs to be involved in genuine worship. " 

- Jerry Kerns

heroes: Mother Teresa

After supper last evening, we talked about heroes. Who are your heroes? One who always comes to mind for me is Mother Teresa. I had the chance to meet her in 1995 while I was in India.

I enlarged the photo on the left so that it focuses on that wonderful face, and those strong, worn, gentle hands. I keep this photo in my kitchen to remind me of what's important in life. 

I admire Mother Teresa and her tireless efforts to work with, and bring the world's attention to, the poor. Many of the things she wrote are inspiring, and here are a few that resonate with me:

"Reach high, for stars lie hidden in your soul. Dream deep, for every dream precedes the goal."

"I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples."

"I'm a little pencil in the hand of a writing God, who is sending a love letter to the world."

"People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, People may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God;
It was never between you and them anyway."


These are all lovely quotes, but I'm reading "Come Be My Light" by Mother Teresa right now, and I almost like it better than these uplifting writings. It's her correspondence with others about her dark nights of the soul, her doubts, her lack of belief, her struggles and spiritual dryness. And it didn't seem like it was a blip here and there, but there were long years, even decades, of pain and darkness in her soul.

Who would have known that this sweet, smiling nun was struggling so? But it gives me courage and pause - her optimistic writings give me hope, but even more, these sad laments do too. Comfort that I'm not alone in my doubts.

the call of autumn

In the changing season of autumn, I hear a call. Like the call of the Canada geese flying south. Wake up, they honk at me, listen, heed this call...

A call to newness. To set new goals, to try new things, to be made new.

A call to discern. To use my time in wise ways. Not to waste it and not to stuff it too full. Both can be mighty temptations.

A call to walk and to experience. To hear the crispy crunch of dried fallen leaves underfoot. To inhale the pungent smells of autumn. To taste apples and pumpkins and squash and kale and sweet potatoes and cinnamon and cloves and grapes and to be grateful for another year here. To see - to notice - the small changes in colour every day. Take note! Because soon they'll be gone. Sooner than I can imagine if I don't stop and look.

A call to rest. To harvest the dying plants of summer. To make the land ready for winter rest. To quiet my mind. Because busy is so easy, and rest so hard. To slow down. To savour.

This year, this is the call of fall.

called by name

I was privileged to be at a friend's ordination last evening. It was beautiful and inspiring and made me think of calling. Am I called? What am I called to do? This post comes closest to what I can define right now - my most clearest calllings for this phase of my life are to tend the hearth here at home, and to give voice to stories.

But it is hard for me to sometimes claim these as callings. Or to even think that I COULD be called. Because maybe only others get called, or get talked to by divine beings. Not me.

If I search deep enough, I can feel it though. Only in the quietest moments, which tend to be few and far between lately.

Thus says the Lord, the one who formed you, the one who created you:

"DO NOT FEAR

for I have redeemed you.

I HAVE CALLED YOU BY NAME. 

You are mine.

When you pass through the waters, 

I WILL BE WITH YOU.

And through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you. 

When you walk through fire, you shall not be burned and the flame shall not consume you.

For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your saviour.

YOU ARE PRECIOUS IN MY SIGHT, 

and honoured, and I love you." 

Isaiah 43:1-3, paraphrased