Tough Broad

How do I get tough? How do I grow a thick skin? How do I harness that fine edge of cynicism and doubt to do my job better? Do I have to?

Sometimes this job weighs on me. I find myself burdened by empathy rather than empowered by it...I feel so closely the pain and need that comes through our doors every day - the struggling single mothers, the wandering homeless, the lonely elderly. I want to help them all, help them completely, solve their problems. I understand I cannot, nor am I expected to, be the fixer of the situation - that is God's domain. I am a small part in a big story. It's just very hard to remember that when she's looking at you with tears in her eyes, begging for money for diapers and milk...When he's got multiple disabilities and is frustrated with not being able to work and having to beg for food money...When she has no family left and has nothing left to do with the days. Several days ago I helped a couple who said they were trying to find work but had no transportation or decent clothes...I gave them all the bus tickets I had, called around the city trying to find a store that would donate them clothes, and gave them a drive to the store. Later I found out their story was not reliable. I felt foolish and confused, embarrassed and a little angry, but my sympathy still was there. Was I taken for a ride? I don't honestly know. I lack the experience and the hardness to size up the situation and make a judgment not based on emotion.

Sometimes this job weighs on me.

Hired to clean the toilets? Sure. What do I really do at St. Paul's? Whatever God asks me to. He asks me to serve Him every day, see Him in the people that come here, honour Him through them. He doesn't ask me to save the world, or even save a life directly. He'd never do that, I can trust Him on that one. He asks me to love, to keep on loving even through my struggles...to serve His purpose by listening and being kind, and doing what I can at the right time. What I need is help discerning this 'what I can' and 'at the right time' business.

The Stories We Lose When Not Looking

Discouragement is such an obstacle in life. It's everywhere; it's in my lazy fingers not willing to write the stories that pulse through my head. Try to overcome it, try to be connected, just try.

Some stories I have neglected to relate over the holidays. I made an old man cry. He is the last surviving Elder For Life at St. Paul's, elected in '60-something, and was in to make a donation to his beloved traditional church. I was kind to him, served him tea while he waited for Cathy, the office administrator, to return from her lunch break. I sat and talked with him, asked him questions about his life, answered his. It was December 31 and the office was closing down early that day. I could easily have pushed him on his way; don't bother me, I'm going on vacation. However, I find value in these encounters with people, real people who have lived a long and worthwhile life. I left him in Cathy's capable hands to take care of his business, but passed him on his way out the door a few minutes later. He had a big smile on his face and told me 'Happy New Year, dear. Thank you. I have never been treated so well at this church!' Then he hugged me and when he pulled back, there was actually a tear on his cheek. That moment made me realize that we are important. We all have a precious gift to give to each other: respect.
It makes me think of another woman in the congregation. Some of our members are alone now. Due to age or life circumstances, a few are without close family and seemingly without purpose anymore. This woman has the classic name of a queen, or some proud heroine in a novel about women changing history, but she comes nearly every day for companionship and purpose. Out there in the world she has a very small ripple effect, but inside the walls of St. Paul's she is important and respected and I feel privileged to play a role in that transformation. That's what Jesus does for us too - transforms us from paupers to queens in an instant, through no act of our own. I embrace her because I'm embraced as well.
Don't be fooled by my appearance. I may look like I'm just pushing a mop or repeating the same chores day after day, but in reality, I am important. I help others any way I can. I take pride in my work. I make a special effort to be humble and reverent when talking to you. I love and respect as much as I can.

Snow Day

How many centimeters have come down so far? Reports of 15-20 seem reasonable. I took my daughter Georgia with me this morning to check on the boiler at St. Paul's. The boiler looks fine; I didn't perform any chem tests today but emptied the return valves and blew down the main part. The wind is whipping at the window....

Back outside again where Georgia and I gazed upon an expanse of white, undisturbed snow that is the Charlotte Street parking lot. Scratch that; the plow (Darrell Bruce) had made one sweep earlier and there was a good sized snowbank to the right which Georgia made a beeline for. I bent and tested the snow for 'packiness' - how sticky, or 'packy' the snow was for making snow balls. Perfect stuff! While Georgia tumbled down the snow bank I started work on a snow man. Eventually she joined me and we made two great big snow people and positioned them at the entrance to the Charlotte Street door. Hers is wearing an evergreen wreath. I know it will bring a smile to the regulars who come through that door to do their volunteer work, or attend exercise class, an AA meeting, a play group or a quilters' circle. I look forward to Cathy's reaction!

This is the first time I've ever been caught at work, when not working. This job may be turning into a vocation.

I have a donkey in my office!

It has been suggested to me that my one liners regarding Sextoning should be shared with the world at large. Indeed, being a sexton has some very unique challenges and rewards, not the least of which is the legitimate occasion to say "I have a donkey in my office!". I like this idea. It may also cross paths with some thinking and reading I am doing regarding service vs. servitude, and a nifty book that Peter Short gave me titled 'Shop Class As Soul Craft'. One challenge I face in maintaining a blog regularly is being regular - I often get distracted by fatigue, other projects, beautiful women and the like. I don't think there is a shortage of material...so perhaps you could help. Leave an encouraging one liner comment and I'm sure this will spur me on! One cannot create in a vacuum....

So back to the donkey in my office. The week before Christmas and the hooligans have come out; baby Jesus is missing and I had to dig out my spare (yes, He is a hot commodity apparently. Last year He was stolen as well, but returned after The Big Day. I can only imagine the hilarious photos of baby Jesus' travels those lawless hooligans took Him on...). A poor hapless donkey also got vandalized, and is awaiting repair in my office. Unfortunately, there is no replacement donkey as he is not central to the story...PETA will be up in arms, no doubt.

On my last day before vacation, on the last hour before vacation, a storm window in the bell tower blew off and shattered glass came flying down the roof onto the side walk. Thank God no one was walking underneath when it happened! Now the already fragile stained glass window is exposed to the elements, but I see no way of protecting or repairing it that doesn't involve scaffolding or fall arrest harnesses, or general danger and mischief. It's not something I want to take on, but I will have to figure out some solution or the stained glass window will not make it through the winter, of that I am sure.

So let me know what you think. Encourage me. Pummel me. Do what you will....

Ramblings of a Sexton

Today at work I had about 300 kids in my church and you could hear a pin drop - it was incredible. I love being a Sexton. I also learned a bit more about my building; a few years ago the east wall of the original church had to be restored and the masons removed each stone, numbered them, did the repair work and then rebuilt the wall exactly the way it had been...I find that a profound testimony to human resilience but it's also such a cool metaphor for the ultimate fallibility of the human church. A long time ago someone had a dream to build a beautiful symbol of worship to a God that loved everyone (if you did things 'right' anyway...like put this brick there,put that brick here). You know, so much love, so much posturing...the walls hold for a time, quite a long time till we think we even need them; but when the walls start to break down, the human design starts to fail....rather than find a new, better way to rebuild, rather than take the original dream of community worship and make it work today, we decide it would be best to make the same mistakes again. Put the bricks back in the same place, though they crumbled and fell and actually separated us from people, not brought us all together. Kind of a negative interpretation, but one way to look at it...

Who's the one rambling now? I love history, architecture and theology (among other things) so this job is great. Plus I get to explore the bell tower, which is amazingly fantastic. I plan to photograph it, once I clean out all the pigeon shit.