Honk If You Love Jesus

"Sitting in church every Sunday doesn't make you a Christian anymore than sitting in a garage makes you a car." - Joyce Meyer

Well I'll get right to it. My Christianity 101 class surpassed all my expectations. I really thought it might be quite dogmatic and glum. It was anything but, and one of the nicest and most interesting evenings out I'd had since Ragdoll's birthday dinner.

I arrived at St. Paul's just at 7:30 p.m. and I must admit I was somewhat puzzled. The minister with whom I had exchanged emails told me to go to the Peaker Room downstairs in the church. Now when I sang in the choir, we had to walk underneath the church and go up the stairs that brought us to the back so that we could sing our first hymn as we walked to the altar. The basement was quite cavernous and dark, with the original foundation stone showing and rusty pipes lining the ceiling.

It's now been completely transformed into administrative offices and meeting rooms. There is also a glass atrium being built that connects the main church to the side buildings. It's really something. In fact, St. Paul's is just majestic. There's simply no other word to describe it. I gasped a little when I first came in and saw the congregation area with all its stained glass, stone columns and ornately carved wood. I admit it. I'm shallow and vain and I expect nothing less in my place of worship. My church is duh-ressed y'all.

So off I trundled through the basement, the Peaker Room nowhere to be found. Just as I was about to turn around I heard someone laugh, went in that direction and ta da! The Peaker Room. Problem was my meeting had been moved and I had walked right by the room my meeting was in.

So I arrived, sat down and got my name tag. The minister, Jennifer, was talking about the purpose of the course, which was to give a basic introduction to Christianity's concepts. It doesn't focus on why Catholics do this and Anglicans do that and Baptists do something else. And she also said that no questions were off limits.

I really liked the structure of the course. Jennifer would speak for about 10 minutes on a given topic, and then we would discuss our thoughts about it in two separate groups. I thought the group would be full of newbies like myself, but it was the opposite. There were three senior citizens in the group, David and Christine, a lovely couple from Ajax and Frank, another fellow who lived close by. Funnily enough, they were all from England originally and had decided to take the course as a way of reconnecting with their faith. Then there were about four middle aged folks, Fred, Lisa, Monica and another lady whose name I can't remember. I think it was Stacy.

Monica had been introduced to the church early at Sunday school as a child and Stacy had worked for years on St. Paul's Out of the Cold program. Monica wanted to "go back to basics" as she put it and Stacy was really honest and admitted that her work on the Out of the Cold program had given her a case of compassion fatigue and she was trying to shake that.

Fred and Lisa were trying to get their heads around the concept of proof of God's existence and how they could see God in their everyday life. They are both very intellectual and analytical people who admitted they struggled with this, Lisa in particular.

Then there was Mark our group leader, who is studying at Wycliffe College to be a minister. We were the youngest people there, and I was certainly the only newbie. We got round the table introducing ourselves with nine minutes to spare. When Fred our timekeeper noted this, I said "Yah! Dream Team!" and everybody laughed. It broke the ice.

Our discussions through the evening covered such topics as: What is God? Are we here by chance or is there a purpose to our existence? Why would some people not be in a relationship with God? What is sin?

Actually this last question was my favourite part of the evening. I learned something very interesting, which was that in the Biblical context the concept of sin is not really about sinful acts per se. The Biblical concept of sin is primarily the idea of being away or apart from God. Acts of sin, lying, stealing etc. are indicative of a broken relationship with God. So it's like there's big S "Sin" which is a virus, and then there's small s "sin" or sinful acts, which are the symptoms.

Now those services I was in as a choir member make so much more sense. All that talk about, "we're sinners", "we're in sin". I remember thinking "Uh. Can we just lighten up a little here folks?" In this new context, it doesn't seem so morose frankly.

Another interesting topic for discussion was how people feel about God or the concept of God. Some of the reactions discussed were, hostility, indifference, fear and confusion. Mark asked if anyone would be brave enough to talk about if they had had any of these feelings. So I, who of course know no shame, said "Dude. I'm confused."

So Mark asked me why and I said "Because I feel as if God is with me and around me all the time but I don't have a way of really connecting. I've felt this same feeling in the middle of the forest or in a church and yet I feel as if I have no way of talking to God even though I know God, or at least some kind of larger, benovelent presence is there."

The group looked stunned and said nothing for a moment. Mark looked like he was contemplating asking me to marry him.

Then Lisa said something very interesting. She said that she was a social pyschologist and that in her world all feeling is pathologized. Bad feelings are problems to be fixed. She also said that her first introductions to religion were very negative so she has the opposite problem; how does she get the feeling of God? And then after that, how does she get to a point where she can trust her feelings even if there is nothing tangible for her to interact with? How can she trust that what she feels is enough?

"I really envy you." She said.

Monica noted that being with God can be like a road trip and sometimes you get lost. "Maybe" she said "you just need to enjoy the journey more and not worry so much about having the map right now."

Good point.

Then Frank said that he had struggled with a feeling of hostility towards God since his wife had died. You could see the lonliness in his eyes, and my heart just went out to him. It occurred to me that maybe he was trying to reconnect with the church to gain some fellowship and not feel so alone. Some people have some awful burdens to bear yet you wouldn't know to look at them. I always get a good reminder of this every once in awhile. Thursday night it was Frank.

Then we broke for tea, coffee and brownies. Brownies y'all.

Praise Jesus. Is this my church or what?

The evening was a smorgasbord of philosophy, history and debate. I really found it very interesting and stimulating. Jennifer then wrapped the evening up with a recounting of the Prodigal Son story and then we had a prayer to finish up. She asked God to give us all to have a safe trip home and a good night's sleep.

I got home in record time and slept like a rock.

Good Lord

I'm so tired.

But I gotta go to Christianity class. I think it will be informative, if not entertaining. I'll be home late Dear Reader, but more to come.

Farewell Little Thunder

Otherwise entitled Am I REALLY Meant to Drive Because My Wallet's Tellin' Me Otherwise.

This time last week, Little Thunder rolled off the driveway for the last time. My 1990 Grey Nissan Sentra gave up the ghost in November. And despite the fact that with a battery recharge she started no problem in March, it just wasn't worth the money to repair the transmission. AGAIN.

Funnily enough, I had always imagined what it would look like seeing her towed away, whipping round the left corner never to be seen again. I hate to be so dramatic, but I have a tendency to do this. I attach an awful lot of emotion to inanimate objects.

I remember when we first immigrated to Canada we lived in an apartment building the first few years. During the winter I would come home from school with my pockets filled with garbage. I thought it was cold, and if I threw it down the chute in my building, it would be warm. I did this for quite a few weeks until one night I was tired and forgot to dump off the garbage. My mother found my coat full of "stuff" and that was the end of that. She wasn't a bitch about it or anything, but did assure me that the garbage was just fine and I didn't need to worry.

Ahem.

Uh anyway, as I mentioned in my previous post Little Thunder and I shared a lot of miles and years together and I was a little misty seeing her go. But I was nowhere near as upset as I expected to be. In some ways, it was a relief to just move on.

That was until the car repairs rolled in this past week. I have spent over $2000 on, in no particular order:

A new battery.
A new alternator.
A new clutch.
A new bearing for the left back wheel.
A new pair of front brake pads.

I know the car is four years old but C'MON!!!!

I really REALLY seriously considered getting rid of Big Berry last week but it ended up I'd lose more money selling than I'd spend to repair. The reality is that as much as I want to be in love with her, I'm not. It's a great car, very versatile and Lord only knows how much I love that All-Wheel-Drive in the winter. And when you have "flow" there is nothing like driving a standard car. Nothing.

But the car has been somewhat of a disappointment. I did my research, thought I'd love it and I don't dislike it but....maybe there's just nothing like your first.

So we'll see. Maybe next year I'll sell it and get an automatic again. Maybe having a dedicated vehicle will render all these points moot and Big Berry and I will connect on some level.

Then we can go trawling the winter streets for garbage in need.

Go Tell It On The Mountain

Well at long last, I have finally decided to get baptised. I'm not exactly sure what has brought this on, but I am going through a period of spiritual hunger right now, and I'm exploring a number of different things including Buddhism, past lives, and Chritianity. Christianity is the one that resonates the most with me, although I believe in my Aunt Jean's philosophy that there are many paths to the same place.

So, the big dip is in January. Until then, I have to attend four Christianity 101 classes at my church, which is St. Paul's in Toronto. I sang in the choir there for a bit and really enjoyed it. It has a very welcoming feeling to it and a congregation of people from diverse backgrounds, so it seems like the most logical place to be brought into the fold as it were.

I guess most of all, it just feels like I'm closing an important loop. My mother is very happy about this. She always regrets not having my sister and I baptised. (Myrtle already is as my niece couldn't be baptised until she was.) My father, who is not religious, didn't see the point when we were babies. My mother wasn't hard and fast about it either, but over the years, it began to eat away at her, as if she had neglected an important aspect of our spiritual housekeeping. She told me last night that it would be good for my soul.

Even Ragdoll, who is not exactly Maria singin' in the Alps, told me it was a good thing to do. Heh!

And on another positive note, and it's just a gut feel here folks, I think I'm going to have some stories from 101 class to share.

Can I get an "Amen!".

Last Night A Psycho Cougar Saved My Life

I am an old woman, named after my mother
My old man is another child that's grown old.
If dreams were lightning, thunder was desire
This old house would have burnt down a long time ago.

Make me an angel that flies from Montgom'ry
Make me a poster of an old rodeo
Just give me one thing that I can hold on to
To believe in this living is just a hard way to go

- John Prine, Angel From Montgomery

Last Saturday afternoon I had one of my most brutal pilates classes ever. I've started taking privates once a week, which was a decidedly good move. No more last minute cancellations, no more needing to worry about what my work day will be like. But a private is that much tougher because the teacher has you all to themselves. I think I'm certainly getting more out of these one-on-ones; more fatigue, more aches and pains, more clarity on how galactically out of shape I am currently. But it has also been a good lesson in not being so hard on myself.

I tend to be very impatient generally, most of all when it comes to my own progress with anything. If I'm not running a marathon, holding down three jobs and finding the cure for cancer, I feel like I'm slacking off. Pilates puts me right in the moment. It shows me exactly where I am. It also gives me a real feeling of progress because next week, the exercises are that much easier and I have much more awareness of my body.

Last Saturday my awareness was absolute. I felt like I could sleep for a week after class. It had been very intense and I was faced with the prospect of attending John Prine's concert at Massey hall that evening. I love John Prine, but I was just not into going. In addition, I'd had to pay Ticketmaster a $25 charge to salvage the tickets I had lost. I NEVER do that but they were nowhere to be found [actually, Ticketmaster also charged me again for the tickets but I'll deal with that later.]

So off we went to Massey Hall. I got the tickets reissued, [well a slip to hand over to the ushers really] and then we travelled to Little India on the east side of town. I never want to go to our usual buffet place again. Every time we go I end up feeling awful afterwards.

Now exhausted AND naseous, we headed back downtown for the concert, fully availing ourselves of my reserved parking spot for work. It was sweet. We parked and walked down to Massey Hall in not even 5 minutes.

And let me tell you, it was a looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong climb up to the second balcony.

The crowd was as rowdy as I expected after having seen Prine previously at Convocation Hall. It's a little scary and a lot of fun all at the same time, sort of like that crazy uncle that shows up at family weddings. Part of you hopes he keeps his mouth shut. The other part of you sits in eager anticipation of whatever infamy he plans to visit upon this latest occassion.

Prine has quite a cross section of fans at any given show. There's stoners and drinkers [the 'down home' folks as I like to call them] old Folkies, uber Musicologists/Musicians - like The Marine, Along for the Riders - like me, and of course Psycho Cougars.

I refer of course to that woman of a certain age who at a Prine concert, takes it to the next level by getting absolutely hammered pre-show, applies enough hair spray to qualify as a one person fire hazard and whose shimmering pink lipstick blazes in all its fury against the backdrop of a salon engineered tan. The Marine also asked me to note that they had enough turquoise to raise the Inca dead. You know, good point Marine. Now that I think on it, I never checked for cowboy boots either. Damn.

We had two behind us who talked through the whole show like they were watching a video at home. One of them kept yelling out "Angels!" [for Angel From Montgomery] and when Prine started to sing it, she yipped and hollered like she'd just won at the casino. It was a little sad because it is such a poignant song, about a woman grown old who realizes she let all her dreams go because of fear. Somehow the emotional resonance of the song didn't seem to, well, resonate.

Despite this, Prine's show really lifted me out of my funk and I was really glad I went. I found myself on the verge of tears most of the night. Prine's songs are deceptively simple and really can pack an emotional whallop at times - well, in between the rantings of the Cougar Contingent.

At concert's end, we started heading out and I saw one of the women just as one of her compatriots yelled something about going out to drink more. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I'm not saying to not go out and drink. Lord only knows my exploits. But at the same time, there was something almost heartbreaking about seeing these obviously middle aged people acting like a bunch of school kids, as if they were pursuing some sense of their earlier selves. Maybe they have a greater sense of Angel From Montgomery than I could ever know.

Or maybe they just like to get hammered.

I don't know. But every once in a while, I see somebody who has arrived somewhere I know I don't want to go. And as much I can feel sad sometimes about the things I wanted to happen that didn't and that may still not, I know I'll be ok. I'll arrive at some state of realness. I'll be able to manifest in my external life some semblance of who I really am inside. What I don't want is to be older and avoiding the truth about my life.

To paraphrase Prine, to believe in that livin's just a hard way to go.

See You In A Bit

Well I'm at a work conference on Thursday and Friday and I have to make a presentation. Don't think I'll have much time for blogging between now and the weekend, but I'll be back soon with more Friendly Roman adventures.

Up next...Last Night a Psycho Cougar Saved My Life, Go Tell It On the Mountain and Farewell Little Thunder.

Peace out.

Happy Birthday to the Guru

Hear that stealthy creeping sound Guru? Yes! It's Forty and soon it shall pounce like Tina Turner at a 4-for-1 Fishnet stocking sale!!!

Hope your year is Namaste my dear friend.