Meeting Mr. Wolf

I know, I know, it's been a long time.  Life's been busy--sorry!

A couple of things...
The week before last, I participated in the funeral of someone whom I had visited.  It was a beautiful service, but what struck me most of all was what happened afterwards.  When I was much younger, I remember picking up a Time magazine that was talking about The Troubles.  There was a picture in it of a funeral and I can still see the the coffin being born along on the shoulders of six men through the street of whatever town it was.  I remember, even then, being moved by the scene.  At this funeral there was a remarkably similar scene.  Now, I'm used to pall bearers standing on the sides of the coffin, holding it by handles (?)...but here, six of the men from the family rested the coffin on their shoulders and grasped the man standing next to them almost in a one armed hug.  And slowly, they made their way out of the church and onto the main street through the town toward the cemetery, the rest of the mourners trailing behind in a slow procession.  It was a tremendous show of solidarity, of love and mutual support in the face of death.  The family coming together, bearing the deceased and holding one another all at the same time.  In its own way, it was beautiful, and I do not think that I will ever forget it.

My wee car and a rainbow :)

Another little bit of reflection...I've been here almost six weeks and though I haven't gotten homesick as such, there is a slight element of loneliness that has given me great cause to think.  While I have made friends here--and, indeed, there are many people with whom I enjoy spending time--there is no one here who really knows me.  Sure, people know my name and who I am and where I'm from, but they do not know my story.  They do not know the history that has brought me to this point and shaped who I am, as many of you do.  I suppose being known in that particular way is something that I've taken for granted.  Incidentally, the realization itself has given me some additional insight into pastoral care.  On a number of occasions (not just here, but in CPE and in other contexts as well) I've had people, in the middle of sharing a particularly painful or personal story, interrupt themselves to say, "I don't know why I'm telling you this, but..."  I've never had a particularly good response to that.  But I wonder, now, if part of the reason we so desire to tell someone those stories is actually because we desire to be known by someone and more than that, accepted in spite of what we've been through.  It is a powerful thing, to tell your story and have it heard without judgment.  It allows us, I think, to be more fully who we are; it frees us from wondering what will happen when people find out...

On a more lighthearted note...meeting Mr. Wolf...

The enormous Mr. Wolf

It is growing dark here.  When I wake up in the morning at 6, sunrise is yet an hour and a half away.  So even by the time I come back from running, there is only the faintest hint of the dawn to come on the horizon.  Earlier this week, standing with the light on in the far end of the kitchen (over the table, not near the cabinets) I opened the cupboard to get my cereal.  Something very large and very leggy and very close to my head scurried away from me.  I jumped, yes I did.  Turning on the other light, the better to see into the cabinet, I discovered that it was a giant spider.  Yes, giant.  And hairy.  And mostly legs, but that really didn't matter because it's mandibles were right in my face.  Even with my biggest glass, I almost took a leg off.  There was no hesitation.  It had to go out.  Never mind that it was pouring down rain.  Heartlessly, I heaved it out the door.  Of course, I took pictures for your benefit.  And in retrospect I've decided to name him Mr. Wolf.  Because it reminded me of a wolf spider, even though it wasn't one.

And that's most of my news for now...

Walking...but in the sunshine!